#bundle up tonight just to remove it all tomorrow

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

the low tonight is 3 degrees the low tomorrow is 13 degrees this weather has problems

[kieran-granola]

Sweet Sorries

(This is a little JayTim Chanukah gift for @silver-snow-77! Thank you for being a lot of fun 💕)

“We missed you at the Manor.”

Jason doesn't flinch but he tenses, his shoulders drawing up as he sets his helmet down on the table. Slowly, he turns around to find Tim sitting at his kitchen table all bundled up in a cozy sweater and scarf. The plate of sufganiyot that Jason cooked and abandoned earlier that day is waiting in front of him, the shape of it somehow accusing in the semi-darkness.

“Who’s we exactly?” Jason asks as he unholsters his guns. 

In the kitchen, Tim shrugs. “Alfred. Bruce. Damian. Me. Take your pick.”

Following his well-practiced routine, Jason unloads his weapons and puts them away in his safe. He'll need to clean them later — to make sure everything will be in working order tomorrow when he heads out into the streets again — but he's got more pressing concerns for now.

“You see me practically everyday, birdie.”

“We don't celebrate Hanukkah everyday, though.”

Jason shrugs off his leather jacket and sprawls on his couch to work on removing his boots. “Technically, for a week, we do.”

Tim's tongue clicks. “Jason.”

“Timothy,” Jason deadpans.

They stare at each other in silence for a minute, then Tim sighs. His shoulders droop, hurt clear on his face. When he speaks, his voice is thin.  “Why didn't you show up? I wanted to spend the night with you. I thought—I was hoping that you wanted to celebrate with me too.”

Shame and guilt bloom in Jason's stomach. Fuck. He's an asshole. He was so caught up in his insecurities, so worried about Bruce's judgment and Alfred's disapproval, that he didn't stop to consider whether Tim would be hurt by his absence. Stomach turning into a mess of knots, he kicks his boots off and stands up. 

“I'm sorry. I was planning to go. I mean—” he gestures to the plate of pastries, “—I even baked. But then I just… I don't know. I couldn't do it.”

Tim bites his lip. “You got scared.”

“I guess.”

“You could have told me. I would have spent the evening with you, we could have—”

“No!” Jason blurts out. “No. It's—You shouldn't have to skip family celebrations just because you decided to fuck the local pariah.”

Tim goes stock-still, his expression smoothing out into an impenetrable mask. “Is that what we're doing? Fucking?”

Dozens of memories flit through Jason’s mind — Tim's smile over shared fries, his strong fingers digging bruises into Jason's hips, heated debates in front of the TV, and days spent curled up together in bed — and his heart stutters. Dammit. He didn’t mean to imply that what they have isn’t serious. 

“No, it's not,” he says slowly. “You know it's not. You're as much of a detective as I am. You’ve got to know how I feel about you.”

“By that logic, you have to know how I feel about you too. But you still left me hanging at the Manor tonight.” 

Jason looks away. Maybe he does know. Maybe he remembers the way Tim took care of him when he was sick despite his own weakened immune system. Maybe he can picture the smile that blooms on his face whenever he wakes up next to Jason. Maybe he knows the shape of Tim's feelings intimately. Maybe he's let him write them across his bones with every kiss and touch.

Maybe it's not enough to compensate for his fear of Bruce anyway.

“I'm sorry,” he repeats. “I should have warned you. I was too caught up in my issues with B to think about you and that was unfair of me. I'll do better next time.”

Tim gives him a long, inscrutable look. Then he sighs. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve got my own hang-ups when it comes to Bruce, so… Apology accepted. On one condition.”

“Anything you want. Just say the word.”

“I want a sufganiyah,” Tim replies lightly. “And a kiss.”

Gratitude fills Jason’s chest with sunshine. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t Tim’s playful answer. To be forgiven so easily and reminded that Tim cares for him all in one fell swoop… It’s a gift he never thought he’d be given.

Eyes stinging, he moves closer and pushes the plate towards Tim. “Take as many as you want. Hell, eat them all. I can always make more.”

Tim grabs a beignet. He takes a bite, and powdered sugar sticks to his mouth, bright and enticing. 

Jason leans in reflexively at the sight. Every inch of him longs for a taste of Tim’s sweetness. As clumsy with his words as he can be, he knows exactly how to touch Tim by now. How to handle him with the care and reverence he doesn’t know how to express when he’s not borrowing a poet’s words. 

(Art commissioned from the lovely @coffeexrage)

Tim notices him staring. He lifts his chin and gives Jason an expectant look, his blue eyes impossibly bright. “Well? That’s only half of what I asked for. Where’s my kiss?”

Laughing quietly, Jason crosses the distance between them and kisses the tip of Tim’s freckled nose. “There.”

Tim scrunches up his nose. “I meant a proper kiss.”

“Finish eating, you gremlin. I’ll kiss you as many times as you want after.”

“You sure about that?” Tim grins slyly. “Because I might need a kiss every day until I die.”

Jason rolls his eyes even as his heart misses a beat. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Oh, I can drive it harder.” Tim gives him an exaggerated wink.

Flushing, Jason takes a sufganiyah and pushes it against Tim’s lips to shut him up. “Eat or you won’t get any kisses at all.”

“Yessir.” Half-laughing, Tim takes a bite and the two of them share a smile. 

Jason doesn’t know what tomorrow will be like — whether Tim will insist on going to the Manor to light the candles again, and whether he’ll have the strength to accompany him if he does. What he does know, though, is that Tim’s gentle warmth is enough to make him want to keep making an effort. He might never be able to mend things with Bruce, he still damn well intends to nurture his relationship with Tim.

One kiss at a time.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Happy New Year!! a kiss for each of you! 🤍 (this ficlet is nsfw btw)

✨✨

Do you think I’d get in trouble for killing Brian?

Steve smothers a smile as he leans against the kitchen counter, his thumbs tapping a quick reply.

If you kill your boss, who’ll pay you?

I’d become the boss. And I wouldn’t make anyone work on New Year’s Eve.

It’s cute how irritated Billy is about working for a mere 5 hours instead of 8. Sure, he had to wake up at his usual time (at the asscrack of dawn) but at least he’s off earlier and off tomorrow.

It doesn’t stop his boyfriend from complaining, of course

Only two more hours and then we can spend the rest of the night snacking and watching movies :)

They don’t have any ‘real’ plans for tonight. They went out last year, to some bar with Robin and Heather, and it had been so goddamn busy that after Billy got a drink spilled on him, they promised each other to stay in next year.

And here Steve is, in their apartment, decorating for their cozy evening and preparing the snacks and drinks. He even got a bottle of champagne to pop at midnight.

Billy doesn’t text back so he figures someone came to pick up their car from the shop, so Steve continues his attempt to string up the small ‘Happy New Year’ banner across the wall above their couch.

✨

Stupid fucking clients and their goddamn cars.

Billy frowns to himself as he clocks out, waving ‘bye’ to his boss and throwing a “Happy New Year,” back at him as he ducks out into the cold.

Parked right in front of the shop is the Beamer, waiting idly, and Billy rips open the passenger door to get in — and freezes as the lights come on inside and Steve’s sitting there with a smile, looking cozy and warm and happy.

It makes the tension bleed out of his body just to see his boyfriend.

And then he flicks his gaze down to the seat and there’s a bag of McDonald’s waiting for him. His usual order, probably.

His empty stomach rumbles with hunger and he sighs in relief as he picks up the bag and sits down, shutting the door before leaning over to pull his pretty boy into a hard kiss.

He feels Steve hum in surprise but reciprocates easily, chuckling as Billy pulls away and all but rips open the bag to stuff a few fries into his mouth.

“I figured you’d be hungry and cranky,” Steve grins, “So I got your usual.”

“You mean you came prepared,” Billy smirks softly as he opens up the little box of nuggets.

It’s fucking sweet how attentive Steve is to him. How he knows how to cheer him up after a stressful day. Billy’s beyond lucky to have him.

Five years and still going strong.

“Thanks, baby,” Billy hums as he leans over again, gives Steve a salty french fry kiss as they’re pulling out of the spot.

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Steve smiles, loving him.

✨

They get home and Billy heads to the shower to wash off the scent of oil and grease from the shop as Steve gets into his usual soft shorts and a worn t-shirt — his usual ‘stay in’ clothes.

They’re also easy for Billy to remove, if needed.

He slips on a pair of sweats and nothing else, joining his boyfriend on the couch amongst the blankets, pulling Steve against him immediately and kissing at his cheek and jaw, mumbling into his ear, “I didn’t kill Brian.”

A soft laugh leaves his pretty boy before he turns his head, pecking his lips and humming, “Good, ‘m glad.”

The TV isn’t even on yet and they’re already making out like teenagers, bundled up under the duvet pulled from the bed and rubbing their hands along each other’s bodies, warming up from the cold.

It’s sweet and slow, soothes Billy’s nerves from his stressful day of last-minute clients showing up with broken whatever’s and busted this and that’s. All easy fixes, but annoying people rushing him and constantly checking in on him — and Brian telling him to ‘hurry up’.

It was the old bastard’s fault for opening for half a day.

But, none of it matters now, not when Steve’s pressing his lips to his ear and mumbling ‘missed you’ into his ear like the lovesick man that he is.

“You missed me while I was at work?” Billy grins, sweet on him and gently brushing the tip of his nose against his boyfriend’s.

Steve gives him a quiet nod and whispers, “Missed my baby.”

Because Billy is his baby. Steve’s to spoil, to love, to care about. It’s soft as fuck and so pussy, but Billy loves it. He loves that he can be soft and sweet with Steve like this, in the privacy of their home.

His eyes half-lidded and staring into those brown doe eyes, Billy smoothes his palm along Steve’s thigh and whispers back, “Missed you, too, sweetheart.”

And they smile at each other, both filled with that mutual love and adoration, sitting in that warmth together until Steve finally gets up to turn on the TV.

✨

It’s close to midnight and they’re on their third movie, Billy laid back across the couch with Steve half on top of him, both of them watching the screen until Billy feels restless.

Maybe it’s the warm, tipsy feeling he has from the snacks and drinks. Who’s to know.

But, he smoothes his hand down Steve’s back under the covers and goes lower, dipping his hand underneath the soft shorts to grab at the flesh of his boyfriend’s ass, feeling firm muscle and soft skin.

“Mm,” Steve hums, acknowledging but not protesting.

Billy gives the muscle another squeeze, a little harder, and mumbles, “Cute decorations.”

Steve hums again, replies with a soft, “Thanks.”

“Did it take you long to put them up?” Billy asks, feeling his boyfriend’s dick begin to press into the side of his hip.

Count on Steve to get hard with just a squeeze of his ass. The guy is hornier than Billy, despite what their friends believe.

“No,” Steve whispers as he turns his head to press his mouth against Billy’s throat, licking across his skin, inhaling the scent of shampoo there.

Billy grips the flesh in his hand again, inches his fingers down to rub at his boyfriend’s rim, feeling the heat of him there and hearing the soft sound he makes.

Steve ruts his hard dick into Billy’s hip again, sighing out a moan into his neck.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Billy hums playfully, feels the flutter of Steve’s hole against his touch.

“You,” Steve huffs, pulling away just to look at him, and that’s when Billy gets to admire the flush on Steve’s face and the way his eyes are half-lidded. “You gonna shut up and do something or you wanna keep talking about the decorations?” He asks in that bitchy tone Billy likes, even quirks a brow.

Billy’s smile grows at that and he pulls his hand out of Steve’s shorts, licks two fingers before putting them back against his hole and humming, “Okay, I’ll do something. I’ll play with your hole until you cum in your shorts.”

The press of his fingers is made slick with his spit, his fingertips rubbing circles against the puckered skin while Steve stares at him, slack-jawed and his blush going from pink to red as the words settle in his brain and he hooks his leg across Billy’s hips, rolling his own to grind his dick there.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Steve whispers, as if he doesn’t love it, panting as Billy doesn’t stop, rubbing and rubbing while they never look away from each other.

Brown on blue the entire time, until Steve’s panting open-mouthed and his face twists pretty, cumming in his shorts just like Billy said he would.

“Mm, there we go, that’s it,” Billy praises softly as Steve ruts his hips, feels warmth bloom against his hip as the cum soaks through Steve’s shorts and against his sweatpants.

Steve’s pulling him into a hard kiss then, sucking on his tongue and still moaning, let’s Billy take over and kiss him deep, licking into his mouth and gently biting his lips.

From the apartment downstairs and above them, they hear cheering, and both of them glance over at the clock on the wall.

12:00am.

They look at each other with matching grins and chuckle, sharing another kiss — this one chaste and sweet.

There, on their couch, they whisper ‘Happy New Year’ to each other between kisses and quiet laughter.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter Six: One Helluva Party

Gale Cleven × Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: John Egan’s birthday was always a special affair, even when Ruth is causing the whole base stress trying to arrange a surprise party. But Hope doesn’t mind, she’s able to spend some time with her beloved fiancé, Gale and they might even get some time alone.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

Wednesday, September 8th: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 2200 HRS

Ruth’s boots thudded against the cement floor of the girls’ hut as she paced up and down the center aisle. The blonde held a slip of paper, pouring over the list on it endlessly.

“Streamers, check. Distracting John duty, check. Cha-”

“Ruth,” Hope groaned. “Go to bed. You’ve looked over that list a million times.”

Her steps halted and she turned to her friend with a sigh. “I just want his party to be perfect.”

“I know you do, but you have nothing to worry about. Tatty and Helen are getting everything taken care of until we can get up there tomorrow. Please go to sleep, Rue.” Hope rolled over on her small cot, turning away from her pacing friend.

“Fine,” Ruth relented, tossing the list onto her nightstand before sliding beneath her covers. She rolled over to face Hope, her lips pursed in thought. “Do you think-”

“Go to sleep.”

Her mind wouldn’t shut off as she continued to worry about the party. “But what-”

“Ruth! Just shut up and sleep.” Hope didn’t even open her eyes to scold her this time, and she pulled the covers up over her head.

“Okay,” she sighed quietly, turning onto her back, her mind still racing over all the events for the following day. She only hoped that everything would go according to plan.

The Next Day: Sep. 9th: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich: 1500 HRS

The previous night was filled with restless sleep for Ruth, and her nervousness battled excitement in her chest when Frank discreetly pulled up behind the Red Cross hut.

“I’m not your personal chauffeur, you know,” he sassed, turning off the engine. “I don’t like wasting my day passes to take you two up here.”

Hope rolled her eyes as she got out of the car. “But you still do it each time we ask, don’t you?”

Frank mumbled some choice words under his breath, helping the girls unload their bags from the trunk of the car. “I only do this so I know you get here safely. With your navigation skills and Ruth’s nerves, who the hell knows where you’d end up.”

Hope just glared at him with narrowed eyes. She wasn't that bad of a navigator but they missed one turn once and he’d given her hell for it ever since.

Helen and Tatty hurried down the steps to greet them, both quickly embracing the girls. The four had become good friends over their multiple visits to Thorpe Abbott and their reunions always resulted in a big hug.

“You two ready for tonight,” Tatty asked, hurrying Ruth and Hope inside.

“You betcha, Ruth’s been driving me up the wall planning the damn thing. I’ve been waiting for her to have a nervous breakdown over it.” Hope smiled fondly at Ruth who just continued to chew her lip anxiously.

The blonde sighed. “I just want everything to be perfect…it has to be.”

“And it will be Ruth,” Helen placed an arm around Ruth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, everything is in hand.”

“The boys are on a mission and won’t be back until around four this afternoon. I’ve got Cleven and Armstrong on diversion duty to keep John as far away from the Officers’ Club as possible,” Tatty informed them, bundling a box of bunting underneath her arm. “We’ve got our work cut out ladies, but I think we can pull this off.”

The first order of business was to get the decorations up.

The women carefully draped colorful streamers from every surface possible, and by the time they were through, the bland dance hall and bar were vibrant with color. Ruth removed the wrinkled list from her pocket, checking off the “decorate club” box from her to-do’s.

“Alright. What do we have left?” Tatty asked, walking over to Ruth.

The nurse glanced down at her list with a hum, then suddenly her eyes widened and she gasped, throwing a hand over her mouth. “The banner! I can’t believe I forgot! It’s in the car, I’ll be right back.”

She left the club in a tizzy, the door closing behind her with a slam. Hope, Tatty, and Helen all shared a worried glance as the loud sound echoed through the hall.

“You’re right, Hope. She’s too wound up about this,” Helen said as she picked up the box of leftover decorations.

A sigh left Hope’s lips. “ She wants John to have the best birthday possible. He means so much to her.”

“I think the feeling’s mutual,” Tatty chuckled, thinking back to when the pair rumbled up to her hut the week before. “I’ve never seen John wrapped around a woman’s finger before, but Ruth’s done it. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Smiling softly, Hope twisted the engagement ring around her finger and thought about how much their lives changed in such a short time. “Yep. She’s something else, alright.”

“And I’ve never seen Gale as happy, either,” Helen added with a smirk.

Hope ducked her head blushing as she glanced down at the engagement ring adoring her finger, “I know things may seemed rush, but when you know, you know. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.”

Tatty groaned in the background about how sickeningly in love they were, causing the two girls to laugh.

“Well, I’m very happy for you, Hope, and looking at that ring your man has taste.”

Hope chuckled, “Actually…”

The back door swung open, and Ruth rushed in holding a folded-up sheet. The woman’s curls were disheveled and her cheeks were bright red as she leaned against the door, out of breath. “They-,” she panted, her chest heaving. “They’re back.”

“Rue, you alright?” Hope asked, concern etching her face. “Why are you breathing like you just ran a marathon?”

“Because I was getting out of the car and then I saw John on a truck, so I dove back into the back seat and wait-,” she held up a hand to them, pausing to breathe heavily. “Waited for him to go into a building and then I bolted.”

Tatty eyes flicked down to her watch quickly. “They’re right on time, then. It’s already 16:30.”

“What?!” Ruth blurted as a wave of panic coursed through her. “Everyone will be here in an hour and we still haven’t gotten the banner up!”

Hope put a hand on her shoulder. “Rue.”

“And I still need to get-”

“Ruth!”

Finally, her worry-filled sky-blue eyes snapped to her friend’s. “What?”

“You need to calm down,” Hope said gently but firmly. “Everything looks perfect. Johnny’s going to love it.

Just as the night before, Ruth’s mind refused to turn it down a notch, and she sighed. “We still need to hang the happy birthday banner, Hope.”

“We’ll do that and then we’re done, alright?” Hope asked, squeezing her shoulder comfortably before looking at the two other women. “You two good to hang up the banner? I’ve got to get her all dolled up.”

Ruth opened her mouth to object but Hope shot her a glare, sending the blonde’s gaze to the floor. She couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety that gnawed at her insides. She knew she was being irrational, but the pressure to make everything flawless was overwhelming.

Helen nodded with a small smile, taking the banner from Ruth. “That sounds like a plan. You two go get ready in our hut! We’ll see you in a bit!”

The dark-haired nurse practically dragged Ruth from the officer’s club to the Red Cross hut where they quickly got ready. Hope helped re-curl the falling waves in her best friend’s golden hair, and from the way she chewed on her bottom lip, Hope knew she was thinking about her Major.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” she asked quietly.

“Rue, you could have one measly streamer hanging from the ceiling and he’d love it just the same. He’s gonna be more excited to see you than anything.”

“I hope so.”

Hope smiled at Ruth reassuringly in the mirror, “I know so.”

John groaned, stepping out of the interrogation hut. He hated interrogation, as if it wasn’t bad enough experiencing everything the first time, you then had to relive it. He stretched his aching arms above his head, all he wanted was a shower and a drink.

It was his birthday after all.

Gale and Hugh soon appeared from the hut after him, they too stretched out their aching muscles, and the three made their way across to the shower block.

“You got any plans for tonight, Bucky?” Hugh asked, a smirk plastered across his face and Gale elbowed him warningly. He couldn’t have Hugh giving the game away, not after all Ruth’s hard work.

“I don’t know, Sparky. I was just going to shower and then head over to the club for a drink. You boys in?”

Gale and Hugh glanced at each other, a silent question passing between the pilots.

“Sure thing, Bucky,” Gale responded first, throwing his arm over his friend's shoulder, “Can’t have you celebrating alone now, can I?”

“Good, because I plan for this to be a night we remember,” he thought for a moment, rubbing his hand over his moustache, “Or more like a night we don’t remember. But don’t worry, I won’t go too off the rails,” He cackled, strolling ahead of them.

Hugh turned to Gale, his eyes wide as he hissed, “How the hell are we supposed to keep him out of the club?”

Gale shrugged his shoulders, seemingly very calm about the whole situation, “We’ll find a way.”

“Hey,” Bucky called out, stopping with his hands on his hips as he waited for them to catch up.

The pair shared a wary glance, panicking at the possibility of his overhearing them.

Ruth would kill them if he found out.

They reached him, and John pursed his lips in thought, “You got a letter from Hope today or yesterday?”

Buck and Hugh nearly sighed in relief at the question. The cat wasn’t out of the bag yet!

“Yeah,” Gale replied, “Got one yesterday. Why?”

Johnny nodded once, his gaze falling to the dirt beneath their feet. “Nothing.”

Hugh cocked an eyebrow at the man’s sudden change in demeanor. “What is it?”

“I guess I thought Ruth would’ve sent me a letter for my birthday, that’s all,” he shrugged.

Trying to keep a sly grin off his face, Buck threw an arm over his shoulder and got the trio moving toward the shower block again. “The night is still young, Bucky. There’s still time for a letter to get here.”

“Yeah, you never know,” Hugh added with a smirk, ignoring the sharp glare Buck gave him as he walked past the duo. He then checked his watch.

17:00…One hour til’ showtime.

17:15 HRS

Hope and Ruth took a shortcut behind buildings on their way back to the Officers' Club to stay out of sight. Ruth’s hair was once again curled to perfection, and she wore victory red lipstick that Hope let her borrow.

She wasn’t one for bold statements, but this night, she wanted to do something special.

When they snuck into the club through the back door, Ruth’s eyes widened in awe at the final decorations Helen and Tatty finished. String lights hung below the streamers above the tables, giving the room a warm, soft glow, and the “Happy Birthday John” banner hung high at the front of the stage.

“This is amazing!” She squealed, her heart fluttering with excitement as she pulled Helen and Tatty into a tight embrace. “Thank y’all so much. I’m sorry I lost my head earlier.”

The two women returned the hug and laughed quietly, sharing a knowing gaze with Hope over her shoulder. If there was one thing Hope Armstrong knew about Ruth Morgan, it was that she cared about those around her so much. It was what made her a good teacher, a good nurse, a good friend…a good person. This was often the underlying cause of the worry that ate away at her.

“We have a surprise for you,” Tatty said, gesturing over to the bar.

Ruth’s eyes drifted over to the area to find a small box on the counter. She and Hope made their way over and opened it, grinning from ear to ear at a small cake inside with cursive icing on the top.

“Happy Birthday Bucky,” Ruth read aloud before turning back to them. “How did you two get this?”

Helen shrugged her shoulders. “I might have to go on a date with the cook, but it’s worth it.”

The group broke out into chuckles and Tatty went behind the bar, grabbing four glasses and pouring them each a shot of whiskey. “I say this is a cause for celebration.”

Helen and Tatty raised their glasses in a toast. “To John,” they chorused, the clinking of their glasses filling the air.

“To John,” Hope and Ruth grinned, throwing back their shots.

Hope was unphased, but Ruth’s eyes watered slightly as the fiery liquid burned down her throat, leaving a warm trail in its wake. She’d grown more accustomed to the taste of alcohol since she started going out more, and she found that it wasn’t as bad as she once thought.

As the minutes ticked by, airmen started to trickle into the hall, and with each one, Ruth’s nervousness swirled again in her stomach. Sensing her discomfort, Tatty poured her another shot with a wink, “It’ll help.”

A smirk formed on Hope’s face watching the blonde throw back the shot. Ruth was not good at holding her liquor, and the one time Hope had seen her overdo it in Berkshire, she had to almost carry her back to their hut at the end of the night.

Before long, the alcohol warmed Ruth from the inside out and melted away her worry, leaving behind a tingling feeling that made her feel lighter than air.

“It’s almost time!” she squealed loudly to Hope who sat beside her at their table.

Hope chuckled under her breath, noting the way she’d become more talkative and bubbly, even starting a few conversations with the men around them.

It was going to be a good night.

“Hey Buck, what was this ‘way’ you have planned to keep Johnny boy from the club? Because now might be a good time to know about it,” Hugh hissed, yanking his underwear onto his still wet body as he continued to fight his clothes on in his haste.

“I didn’t say I had anything planned. I said ‘we’ would find a way, so if you’ve got any ideas, Charlie, now would be a really good time to share them,” Gale spoke in a hushed whisper, gracing back down the hut to check the water was still flowing in Bucky’s cubicle.

Hugh threw his hands in the air, “Well I don’t know, do I? I think half the time John just wants to punch me in the face.”

Gale hummed, “Maybe that’s what we should do then.”

Hugh glared at him through the hole of his shirt, pulling it violently over his head before he responded, “Gee thanks Gale, maybe I should tell my sister that her future husband is a brute and he got me duffed up.”

“I think Hope would be inclined to agree with me…”

“What’s Hope agreeing to now? She already agreed to marry you Buck, what more can she agree to?” John asked, wandering up to them with just his towel draped precariously around his waist.

“Bucky!” Both men called out, their voices a little higher than they would have liked. John cocked an eyebrow at them and Gale stared wide eyed at Hugh, waiting for their next move.

“So Bucky, we’ve got a nice birthday treat for you planned…” Hugh began, hoping that Gale wasn’t about to tackle him to the ground. “We thought it would be nice to head back to the hut, crack open a bottle of my old Vat 69 and make a night of it. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you don’t know me very well at all, My Dear Sparky,” John rested his hand of Hugh’s shoulder and within a split second Hugh folded.

“It was Gale’s idea.”

Gale glared harshly at Hugh before meeting John’s gaze with a simple nod.

John sighed, “Buck, I get that you’re not a big drinker, and that’s fine, why don’t you go write a letter to Hope or something while Sparky and I head down to the club to have ourselves some fun?”

John wasn’t sure why he ribbed Gale about writing letters to Hope. He wrote just as many letters to Ruth, if not more. With Gale though, it was the time he spent pouring over the letter, changing little bits and then rewriting it until it was perfect. He’d sit in the corner for hours, his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth as he pen flowed effortlessly across the page.

Gale sighed, “Okay, we’ll head down to the club at 18:00, okay? Let’s go back to the hut first so we can drop this back. Maybe I will have some time to finish my letter to Hope too, and then we can go. Sound good?” Gale really hoped this sounded like a fair deal because he was all out of options if not.

John thought for a moment before nodding, “You know, you drive a hard bargain, Buck. Good thing I like you.”

Six o’clock rolled around quickly, and Gale found himself sighing with relief as the trio walked towards the officers club. They’d managed to keep the secret and everything had gone to plan. He’d have to have a word with Hope regarding no surprises at their wedding, his heart couldn’t take the suspense.

John was out in front with Hugh, bickering again about the Cardinals and the Yankees, an argument that Gale had heard so often he managed to tune the whole thing out now.

As they neared the club, Gale took the lead, winking at Hugh as he hurried passed to reach the door first. If John noticed anything suspicious he hadn’t let on, but from the way he’d been watching his every move across the Nissan hut earlier he definitely knew something was up.

“Hey Buck, what are you in such a hurry for, they’re not gonna run out of ginger beer,” John called out, cackling loudly at his T-total friend. Gale ignored the comment, he’d grown used to them over the years.

“Very funny, Bucky. I thought you’d be the one in a rush to get here. You wanted the drink after all,” Gale retorted, appreciating Hugh’s laughter.

“You two are like a old married couple, forget Hope and Ruth, it’s you two that sound like you live together,” Hugh ducked as John went to smack the back of his head, but he was unable to avoid Gale’s foot that he’d stuck out to the side and Hugh stumbled over, recovering himself quickly.

“Good trip there, Hugh,” John chortled, and Gale just smirked cheekily.

Hugh brushed down the front of his uniform, despite it never actually touching the ground, “You’re lucky you’re marrying my sister, Cleven.”

As they reached the door to the club, it became obvious how unusually quiet it was, normally by this time the band had struck up a familiar tune, or there was loud laughter from inside. The silence was rather eery and John found himself growing uneasy.

What exactly was going on?

Gale’s hand reached out to the door, swinging it back on its hinges and standing aside. “Happy birthday, Bucky.”

John glanced up at his friend, before looking back inside the club. Everything in the small entrance looked normal, but the silence and the suspense only grew.

Why was Gale being so cryptic too?

Sparing his best friend one last wary look, Johnny stepped through the doors.

“Surprise!”

“What?!” A wide smile broke out on the Major’s face, his eyes widening as he took in the hall…the lights, the decorations, his friends.

‘Happy Birthday John,’ the banner read.

He was about to speak, but all the thoughts in his mind flew out the window when a familiar blonde rushed towards him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Happy birthday!” Ruth giggled, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. Surprised at her sudden forwardness, he froze for a moment before returning it, sliding his hands around her waist.

The sound of wolf whistles echoed around the club while Hope caught Gale’s gaze from behind the pair. A lazy grin pulled at the corner of his lips at the sight of his fiancée, and he sent her a wink as she made her way over to him.

When Ruth and the birthday boy finally pulled away, he peered down at her with a smile so filled with joy that his eyes were almost squinted shut. Her cheeks flushed rosy, but not from embarrassment. John saw the way her eyes were in a daze but still sparkled up at him like the night sky.

He knew that look.

“Someone’s had a few drinks, huh?” he grinned.

Looking over Ruth’s shoulder, his eyes met Hope’s and he tilted her head towards the woman in his arms with an amused brow raised. She simply shrugged, throwing a hand over her mouth when a laugh escaped her lips at the bright red lipstick stains that smeared on his mouth, some even up in his mustache.

“Happy birthday, hotshot,” Ruth whispered as she kissed his cheek.

Another lipstick stain.

John’s grip loosened on her waist, but Ruth’s hands slid around his torso, keeping herself tight against him. Chuckling under his breath, he turned them toward Gale and Hugh. “So this is why you two were acting weird.”

Buck saw the same lipstick stains on his face, and unlike his fiancée, made no effort to conceal his laugh. “You got a little something all over your face there, Johnny boy.”

He quickly did his best to wipe away the red marks, but only smudged them against his skin, leaving splotches of pink on his chin and cheek. “I thought you were up to something, I just didn’t know what.”

“Well, your girl, here, was the mastermind behind this whole thing,” Buck grinned, nodding towards Ruth. “Been planning it for weeks.”

John’s eyes narrowed playfully as he peered down at her. “You sneaky woman.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t somehow feel her worrying from here in Thorpe Abbotts,” Hope said from under Gale’s arm. “She damn near drove me and Frank crazy.”

“Oh, you’re full of it!” Ruth cried, her eyes widening dramatically as she shot Hope a wide-mouthed smile. “Don’t even get me started on you stressing about wedding planning!”

Above the women’s heads, Gale and John shared an amused glance, neither having seen them go at it before.

“Who wouldn’t be stressed about their wedding?”

“Well, I’m sorry for wanting Major Hot Stuff here to have the best birthday possible,” Ruth said plainly, patting John’s chest.

He was thankful that he hadn’t gotten a drink yet because it surely would’ve spewed from his lips and sprayed all over Buck. “Major Hot Stuff?” he choked out before he composed himself, a toothy grin tugging at his lips. “Just how much did you drink, doll?”

“Not much,” Ruth replied innocently, and stepped impossibly closer to him before tripping into John’s side, his hands instantly coming up to support her. She giggled happily and John couldn’t help the amused smile that spread across his face.

“She may have had a little too much for her,” Hope interjected, “To calm the nerves, you see.” Hope found the whole thing rather amusing in all honesty. Ruth had been so uptight ever since she’d started the party planning that it was nice to see her relaxing again.

Gale smiled fondly, watching as John guided Ruth to a table, settling her down in the corner.

“Shall we?” He offered Hope her arm and she gladly accepted, letting her fiancée lead her to the table where she seated herself between Gale and Hugh, opposite Ruth and John.

The rest of the men soon followed suit, all crowding around the table to find a seat. Harry Crosby perched next to Hugh, greeting Hope as he took his seat. Demarco sat on the other side of Gale, and Meatball found his way to nestle his head into Hope’s lap.

“Hey Meatball, who's a good boy,” Hope scratched behind the dogs ear and he flopped against her, whining and grunting as she hit the right spot. Gale watched the interaction adoringly.

How did he manage to find a girl so perfect?

“So Buck, tell me about this wedding you’re planning then. First I heard about it was from Croz this morning,” Demarco asked, leaning across so he could eye Gale and Hope suspiciously.

Harry looked sheepishly at Hope but she just smiled, he’d been in the infirmary when she’d dropped off supplies earlier and he’d noticed the ring.

“Couldn’t keep one secret could ya, Croz,” Hugh jested, grabbing Harry and ruffling his hair affectionately. Harry protested, smacking Hugh’s hands away and the pair began to squabble like children.

“Yep, it’s official. I popped the question and she said yes,” Gale replied, wrapping his arm around Hope’s shoulder, “She’s the only one for me.” He smiled down at Hope and she reached up, pressing her lips to hers, followed by a few low whistles and cheers from their fellow crew members, while Hugh merely made gagging noises.

“I’m happy for you, Buck, I really am,” John raised his glass, nodding towards his friend. “I would’ve paid to see this one’s reaction,” he chuckled, motioning to Ruth who was grinning beside him, tucked under his arm. She smiled fondly, thinking back on the day she found out her best friend was engaged to one of the loveliest men she’d ever met.

————————————————————————

Sunday, August 29th 1943: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 2000 HRS

Hope perched on the edge of the bed, her sore leg giving her some grief. She’d been on her feet most of the day, sorting things out around the base and she was paying for it now. Blood had seeped through the fresh bandages and she winced, peeling the fabric away from the wound.

“I told you not to do too much,” Ruth scolded, sitting down on her bed opposite Hope, “But you never listen.”

Hope just glared at her, Ruth was right but she wasn’t about to admit that.

“What would Gale say if he saw you hurrying all over base today? You know he’d be saying the same thing as me, Hope. We care about you, so please just take it easy,” Ruth pleaded, reaching over to squeeze her friend's shoulder. Her eyes trailed down to the wound on Hope’s thigh and she noticed the gold ring that adorned her ring finger.

“WHAT IS THAT?” She screeched a little too loudly, grabbing Hope’s left hand and holding it up to her face. “THAT’S A RING! AN ENGAGEMENT RING!”

Hope chuckled at her friend's enthusiasm, pulling her hand back and admiring the ring herself, “Gale popped the question in the infirmary while he was patching me up yesterday, and I said yes.”

Ruth looked at her dumbfounded before she smacked Hope’s arm, “WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?”

“There was a lot going on yesterday, it sort of slipped my mind,” Hope admitted, feeling guilty that she hadn’t told her best friend.

“Slipped your mind? You mean to tell me that your engagement just ‘slipped your mind?' Hope Armstrong, I am your best friend and you didn’t tell me first,” Ruth looked utterly betrayed as Hope moved to sit beside her.

“I’m so sorry, Rue, I should have told you. Everything was just so emotional yesterday and it all happened so quickly. Then we had to leave the base and things have been just as crazy here but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

————————————————————————

“It’s okay. At least I knew before Johnny,” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Just wait ‘til he finds out!”

Hope cringed slightly and Ruth’s smile faltered. “I did know before John, right?”

“Well…”

“That sneaky piece of shit!”

The guilt that swirled within Hope’s stomach dissipated as Ruth’s curse echoed through the hut. She didn’t swear much, so when she did on occasion, Hope could never keep a smile from her lips. “I don’t think he wanted to spoil the surprise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruth playfully frowned, waving her hand in the air. “He’s a doggone traitor.”

But the frown didn’t last long and quickly changed into a wide smile as she threw herself onto Hope, trying to avoid her injured leg, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m so happy for you, Hope. Gale is a great guy, and I know you two are going to have a long and happy life together.”

Hope smiled, “Thanks Rue, it means a lot that you support me.”

“I guess my question now is…” Ruth took a deep breath, “Can I be your maid of honour!”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Hope smiled, thinking back to the conversation she had with Ruth after her engagement. There was no way on Earth she could walk down the aisle without Ruth by her side, and Hugh of course. She glanced at her brother who was trying to loudly explain something irrelevant to Jack across the table.

The room was buzzing with life, laughter, and cheers of excitement filling the room as Tatty brought over the chocolate cake and laid it before John, a few candles stuck into the icing.

Everyone around the table erupted into a chorus…

“Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Bucky,

Happy birthday to you!”

Hoots, hollers, and laughter followed as John leaned forward with a beaming smile, extinguishing the candles in one breath. He fell back into his chair, laughing wildly. Ruth snuggled back in under his arm and he pulled her close, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead.

“Thank you, slugger,” he murmured against her skin. “Thank you for everything.”

Ruth looked delightedly back at him, “You deserve this, John. Happy birthday.”

He craned his neck to look down at her, trying to engrain the moment into his mind before he leaned in and captured her lips in his. It was short and sweet but conveyed all the gratitude and affection John felt for the nurse.

Although he may not have said it out loud, she meant everything to him.

Ruth glanced over at Hope as she pushed her chair away from the table, brushing the creases from her dress. Gale’s hand that had been resting on her thigh moved quickly, clutching her hand.

“Where are you going?” Gale glanced up at her, his long lashes casting shadows beneath his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Hope bent over, pressing her lips to his cheek, “I won’t be long.”

Gale released her hand reluctantly, his eyes following her across the hall as she disappeared behind the band. He was confused about what she was up to, her sideways glances between the stage and back all evening gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

John was laughing loudly at something Benny had said when her familiar voice came over the microphone.

“Could I have everyone’s attention please,” Hope spoke softly but firmly into the microphone, causing everyone in the room to turn. “Thank you.” Hope looked a little nervous, her hands clasped in front of her. She wasn’t used to public speaking, having never really been a fan of big crowds ever since she went to a baseball game with Hugh. It was probably one of the main reasons why she made a good nurse, the one-on-one contact with another person was something that came so naturally to her.

She cleared her throat, trying to avoid all the eyes that were suddenly on her and concentrate on the one pair of eyes that truly mattered to her. Gale’s.

“Like me, you are all here to celebrate a certain Major’s birthday. I’m sure all of you have many stories you could tell about Bucky.” The room erupted into a small chorus to ‘to rights’ and ‘hell yeah we do’.

“So what can I say about Major John Egan? I’ve only known him for two months and he sure does love to rock the boat. He’s quite the character,” a few mumbled agreements followed.

“He’s a damn good pilot and a good friend. I couldn't think of anyone more suited for Ruth,” Hope pointed towards her friend. “I would also like to thank the very lovely Ruth Morgan for putting this whole evening together for us.” Several cheers erupted around the table and for once, Ruth’s cheeks didn’t flush. She held her head high as John reached out and brushed her curls away, kissing her cheek with a chuckle, obviously noticing the change from her usual behavior.

“Thank you, doll,” he mumbled, a soft smile on his lips, but before Ruth could speak up, Hope began talking over the microphone once more.

“So without further ado, this one’s for you John,” Hope moved across the stage and placed the record down onto the gramophone.

The disk turned for a few seconds until the smooth trumpet began to play, Hope tapped her foot along to the beat, waiting for her time to start.

“Blue skies, smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see”

Hope’s voice flowed effortlessly into the microphone, playing through the horn, filling the long hall with life.

“Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on”

Hope’s eyes met Gale, as he beamed at her from the audience, a wide smile gracing his handsome face and his blue eyes sparkled in awe. She’d never felt so enamoured in her life than she did at that moment under Gale’s gaze, and the lyrics flowed easily.

“Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on”

Ruth and John were swaying beside each other from their cosy spot at the table. John’s arm was draped over Ruth’s shoulder as he spoke quietly to her.

Ruth beamed at something he said and Hope couldn’t help but smile along with them. After everything they had been through together, Hope never thought they would find happiness like this.

“Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on”

As the song came to an end the crowd burst into a round of applause, having Hope scurry back to Gale, blushing all the way. Gale’s arm instinctively wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into his side one more.

“That was beautiful,” Gale mumbled, pressing his lips to her temple.

Hope smiled up at him, “Thank you,” she chuckled, “Just wait until it’s your birthday, Major, I have a whole lot up my sleeve.”

Gale hummed in amusement, kissing her temple again, “I look forward to it.”

“Hey, hey,” John butted in, snapping his fingers at them over the table. “You two keep that for your alone time. We’ve got a cake to eat, and I’m gonna hurl like Croz here if you keep talking like that.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face. “I’m never gonna live that down.”

Ruth remembered Hope telling her of the poor navigator’s airsickness, and she was relieved that her own bout of projectile vomiting stopped in the early stages of her training at Bowman Field. The rumble of John’s chest against her broke her from her thoughts.

“But thank you, Hope. You almost sounded as good as me up there.”

“Well, that’s an insult,” Bill Veal scoffed, pulling up a chair to the table.

The table exploded in laughter and nods of agreement and Ruth nodded, snickering to herself as Johnny’s face screwed up in playful confusion. “I thought you liked my singing?”

“Oh, I do,” she smiled and patted his cheek gently. “But I never said you were Frank Sinatra, hon.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I’ll have to impress you with my dance moves.”

John stood to his feet, pulling Ruth with him by her hand. “See you, boys.”

He tugged her behind him to the dance floor where a few other couples were already dancing their hearts out to the upbeat tune of Glenn Miller’s ‘A String of Pearls.’ With a wide grin, John spun Ruth around the dance floor, watching her face light up as they got lost in the moment. With every spin, dip, and kiss, their laughter filled the room, and even though Ruth stumbled a few times, Bucky’s firm grip kept her steady, his smile never faltering.

Hope watched from her spot beside Gale, envious of all the dancing couples. She glanced at Gale but he was talking to Demarco, who was feeding Meatball scraps from the table.

A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump and Hugh’s outstretched hand appeared.

“May I have this dance?” Hugh bowed his head down and Hope couldn’t contain the laughter as she watched her brother's antics.

“Why of course,” she clutched Hugh’s hand, glancing back at Gale who looked a little saddened by her departure.

“Come on, Hope,” Hugh pulled her after him, “Gale never dances and you don’t want to sit around like a sad sack all evening.”

Hope nodded, she had to admit that she loved dancing and the thought of missing out did make her a little disappointed, but she also wanted to spend time with her fiancé, who thanks to the war she so rarely saw as it was.

A few more fast paced songs passed and Hugh had Hope spinning around the dance floor. He wasn’t very spatially aware and Hope often found herself apologising as they crashed into other couples.

“Good thing you don’t fly like you dance, Sparky,” Bucky called, “You’d take out the whole 8th Air Force with those skills!”

Hugh spun around, ready to defend his honour, but Hope quickly swung him away from Ruth and John with a small smile.

As Glenn Miller played loudly and Hope couldn’t help the infectious smile that spread across her face as the hall came alive. Despite all the bloodshed and suffering they had witnessed, moments like this made it all worth it.

Hugh had always been a rather good dancer, except for his special awareness, and he led her easily across the floor. It had been a long time since she had danced with her brother, the last time having been at a party back in the States before the war broke out. It was comforting and familiar really.

Hugh began chatting animatedly about a girl he’d met the other day in Dicklesburgh. Every time they spoke Hugh was supposedly ‘in love’ with a new woman. When he’d settle down, Hope wasn’t sure.

The whole time Hope could feel Gale’s eyes on her, following her around the room. She wished he would dance with her, but she knew Gale wasn’t much of a dancer and accepted her fate to always having to find a dance partner in Hugh, who was more than obliging.

Hugh turned to face her, “So have you set a date yet?”

Hope rolled her eyes at him, “Not quite, we’ve only been engaged twelve days.”

“And you’ve only known him two months but look at that, you’re head over heels.”

Hugh’s words resonated with Hope, she couldn’t believe it had only been two months and they were already engaged, it felt like she’d loved him for a lifetime. She never imagined herself to be the kind of woman to fall head over heels for a man and marry him within a year, but here she was head over heels for Gale Cleven.

She’d written to her family to inform them of her engagement, hoping they would be a pleased as she was. The reply she received was less than friendly, accusing her of getting ‘knocked up’ and ‘bringing shame upon their family’. Hugh had written to their parents too, vouching for Gale’s credibility as an honourable man but with Hugh’s track record after his breakup with his fiancée, they still weren’t convinced. Hugh had promised her that no matter what their parents said he’d support her.

“I see the way Gale looks at you,” he spoke softly, sensing that his comment had caused Hope to rethink their mother’s harsh words. “No man looks at a woman like that unless their completely in love and that right there,” he pointed towards Gale who was leaning against the bar with Demarco and Meatball, his eyes still on Hope, “that man is completely in love with you.”

Hope blushed, nodding in agreement, “And I love him, very much.”

“Then that’s all I could ever ask for, my little sister is happy and she has chosen an honourable man. My work here is done.”

As if Gale had read the situation, he began to make his way across the dance floor towards the two Armstrongs.

“Hugh, do you mind if I steal Hope away from you?”

“Be my guest,” Hugh released Hope, passing her hand over to Gale’s who took it instantly. Her hand seemed to fit into his as if they’d been holding hands for all their lives. Hugh drifted away across the dance floor towards Helen and Tatty, sending Hope a thumbs up as he disappeared.

“May I have this dance, Ma’am?” Gale asked, his spare hand already coming to rest on her hip.

“I didn’t think you danced, Major,” Hope retorted, eyeing Gale suspiciously.

“Who would pass up the chance with a beautiful woman, such as yourself?”

Hope blushed at his flattery, placing her head against the crook of his neck. “Well I can’t argue with that, Major.”

Hope swayed in Gale’s arms, not in time with the now slow beat the band was playing but to Gale’s pace, his heart beating rhythmically beneath her hand, keeping her in time. Her eyes followed around the room, catching Hugh’s eye as he danced with Tatty, he grinned at her, and she grinned back. Hope wished Hugh would settle down, find a nice girl and be as happy as she was with Gale, but Hugh seemed to appreciate the bachelor life, it never seemed to phase him.

Hope’s eyes searched the crowd for Ruth and John but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Did you see Ruth and John leave?” Hope perked up, glancing worriedly at Gale but he just gave her a calm smile.

“They only just left, Sugar. The birthday boy needed some alone time with his girl,” his voice was low and his chest rumbled under Hope’s hand.

“Some alone time, huh?” She cocked her eyebrow at him, biting her bottom lip, unpaused that the red lipstick might end up on her teeth. “How about we have ourselves some alone time, Major Cleven?”

“Hmm,” Gale mused, leaning down to press his lips to her ear lobe. “I like the sound of that.” Hope giggled, grasping Gale’s hand and pulling him along behind her.

They passed Hugh who gave Hope a thumbs up to which she responded by throwing him her middle finger as she passed, not looking back to catch his reaction.

Once outside, the cool evening air embraced them and Gale wrapped his coat around Hope’s shoulders, smiling down at his fiancée. “What did you have in mind, Sugar?” He asked, leading her down the road that led up to the officer's hut.

Hope pondered for a moment, she knew what she really wanted, but Gale was such a gentleman that she wasn’t sure what to ask him.

“How about we head back to the officer's hut, everyone will be out enjoying the party and we can see where the evening takes us.”

Gale nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Whatever you’d like, Beautiful.”

Gale led the way back to the officer’s hut, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back, guiding her all the way.

She stepped inside, and the familiar smell of body odour and aftershave hit her, it reminded her of Hugh’s bedroom back home in Missouri.

Hope made her way along the line of beds, “This is the second time you’ve broken the no-girls rule, Major. Whatever next?”

Gale snorted, closing the door behind them. His eyes followed Hope’s movements as she came to his bed, her hand running over the neatly concertinaed edge of the sheet before flopping down onto the mattress with a sigh. Her heels started to hurt her, and as if Gale knew, he stood at the end of the bed, his hands running slowly up and down her calves, before unbuckling her heels and removing them for her.

She sighed as the shoes slipped from her feet, but Gale’s hands remained firmly on her legs, trailing patterns up the smooth flesh just above her knee. Gale looked up at her through hooded lashes, his pulp lips sealed together and he looked deep in thought.

“Gale?” Hope propped herself up on her elbows, watching him curiously as he knelt on the end of the bed, his hands still on her thighs. “What are you thinking?”

Gale swallowed, his eyes making their way up her body until they landed on her face, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Just you,” he mumbled nonchalantly.

“You’re thinking about me?” Hope chuckled, pushing herself up further so she could lean over to him, her lips inches from his. “And what are you thinking about me?” She bit her lip and Gale’s breath faltered. He looked like he was having some sort of internal fight with himself, he opened and closed his mouth to speak and his forehead creased.

“I’m just thinking about how much I love you, how much I wish this damn war was over so we could be together,” Gale glanced up at her, his large blue eyes resembling a sad puppy. “I want to be with you, Hope, and not just fleeting moments but all the time.”

Hope sighed, pushing Gale back so she could straddle his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I wish we could be together all the time too,” she rested her forehead against his own, “But at least in these fleeting moments we can make the most of our time together, we’ll have memories to get us through the time we are apart.”

Gale's breath faltered as his hands came to rest on her hips, shuffling her closer to him. His lips were inches from hers, just brushing lightly as he spoke, “Hope Armstrong, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

She blushed, running her fingers through his tousled locks, “Why thank you, but I like the sound of Hope Cleven better.”

His lips pressed against Hope’s, a small moan leaving his lips. Hope could feel his fingers trailing up her spine, tenderly stroking the soft skin above her hips.

Hope moved her hand to Gale’s cheek, her thumb delicately stroked along his jaw, and Gale flexed under her touch. His lips immediately moved to her neck, kissing gingerly along her collarbone, his eyes darting up to hers in a silent question that she answered with a small whimper.

Hope’s cheeks grew flushed and hot, her eyelashes fluttering as she fought to keep her eyes open. She shuffled closer to Gale but he still her movements, a low groan leaving his throat. The energy in the room shifted, Gale’s desire evident on his face and his eyes burned, darker and stormier than Hope had ever seen before. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and her hand shook as she cupped his cheek, bringing her lips to his firmly.

“I want you, Gale,” was all she could muster before he rolled her over so she was beneath him on the bed, pinned down by his large arms on either side of her head.

“Gale,” she murmured before his plush lips met her mouth, teasing her lips until she allowed him access and he slipped his tongue inside. Their tongues fought for dominance, while their hands roamed each other's bodies, exploring every crease and every curve.

Gale’s hand roamed up Hope’s thigh, grazing over the scar that ran from her knee upwards. The wound was still fresh really, having only sustained it 12 days ago. Hope had removed the sutures herself the night before traveling to Thorpe Abbotts, and the wound had healed well but the flesh was still red and raised. Gale trailed his fingers around the edge of the scar, muttering softly.

Hope sighed, “It’s ugly, I know.”

Gale had never felt so heartbroken in his life, the look on Hope’s face resembling one of disappointment, as though she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“I’ll be disfigured for life, those scars never going away, Gale,” a silent tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Gale of course had, he could barely keep his eyes off of her.

His forehead creased and he gave her a sympathetic look, “Your scar isn’t ugly, Hope. It shows what you’ve been through and that you survived. None of us will get through this unscathed but our scars show that we got through it, and we will get through this together.” Gale leaned down, pressing his lips onto the raised flesh. “I told you that I love you, and that means all of you, Hope, no matter what.”

Hope pulled him towards her, wrapping his arms around his neck once more. The kiss this time had more feeling, more need, more urge to close the impossibly small gap between them. Gale hummed against her lips, his fingers beginning to work on the delicate zip at the side of her dress, while his spare hand began kneading the flesh above the hip.

Each moment their lips met, a new fire was ignited, a primal urge. Hope moaned and Gale happily swallowed any noise she made, and let out a low groan that only caused the fire inside Hope to burn brighter.

As they stripped each other down to their underwear, Hope rolled her hips experimentally, brushing against Gale’s crouch, causing him to bite down on her lip. Their chests were heaving from the effort, bumbling against each other, as Hope rolled her hips once more.

“You’re so needy,” Gale mumbled, resting his hands against her hips to slow her motions. Sweat trickled down his forehead and Hope had already noticed a large bulge in his underwear. “Hope, we shouldn’t, we’re not married yet and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I’m happy to wait if you’re not…”

“Gale, I love the sound of your voice but just this once would you please shut up,” Hope battered her eyelashes at him, and watched as Gale’s jaw slammed shut. He looked confused for a moment, as if he needed a minute to process what his next move was before he was back on top of her, his teeth grazing along her collarbone, while his hand slipped beneath her underwear, storming the sensitive flesh of her groin before moving lower.

“I’ll make this a night you’ll never forget, Hope Cleven.”

If Hope had been coherent enough to notice the nickname, she was sure she would have felt warm and fuzzy inside, hearing Gale refer to her as his wife, even though they were not yet officially married. Hope, however, groaned loudly, bunching the sheets on either side of her as Gale moved lower beneath the sheets and disappeared from view.

The pair were pleased that John’s party was such a hit, even if the man of the hour had excused himself early. The other men were clearly having a good time, drinking and relaxing without the worry of a mission hanging over them, enough so that no one returned to their barracks for a good while.

Hope sighed, finally catching her breath enough to glance over at Gale who had a massive grin plastered across his handsome features. He reached up, running his fingers through his messy locks, his chest still rising and falling rapidly from the effort.

He caught Hope’s gaze, smiling softly at her, he rolled onto his side to face her, his hand coming over to rub his thumb across her cheek. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Hope sighed, her emotions finally ebbing enough that she could think straight. A small whine slipped past her lips as she shuffled closer to Gale, resting her head against his warm chest.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Gale immediately asked, propping himself up a little, his eyes wide and his lip quivered as he spoke. “Oh no, I did. Oh, Hope, I’m so…”

“Hey, hey Gale you didn’t hurt me, you didn’t hurt me I promise,” Hope pulled him in close to her, “I’ve just never been with anyone before, I’m just a little stiff.”

Gale still looked sadly at her, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips pressing firmly to her forehead and his arms enveloping her in a loving embrace.

“Don’t be sorry,” she mumbled sleepily, “This was the best night of my life.”

Gale chuckled, running his fingers slowly through her brown curls. “I wish we could stay like this all night but the party ends soon. The guys will be coming back, and I don’t exactly want them all to see my future wife naked.”

Hope laughed, pushing herself off the bed and quickly gathering her clothes, “Well, we can’t have that can we?”

After their visit to the vacant shower block, where they’d continued to have trouble keeping their hands, they made the short walk back to the Red Cross Nissen hut. Tatty, Helen and Ruth were already back, sitting near the window with their curlers in their hair. Ruth stared at the wall with a dazed grin, and Hope smiled to herself knowing exactly who she was talking about, the same man whose arms she was most of the evening.

Hope stood on the step, her hand resting on the doorknob but she couldn’t find it in her to go inside, not yet.

“I truly had a wonderful time tonight, Gale,” she linked her fingers through his, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckle.

Gale sighed, stepping forward to bring her in for another searing kiss, “I want to kiss you every day for the rest of my life. Maybe we should get married before this all ends. I love you, Hope and you love me so what’s stopping us.”

Hope was a little taken aback, “You really mean it?”

“Of course I do, Hope. You’re the only woman for me and I love you more than anything. We should set a date. Does a month from now sound alright?”

Hope nodded, clutching hold of Gale and burying her face into his jacket, ignoring how her wet hair soaked his shirt and inhaled the sweet scent of his aftershave. His heart was pounding beneath her hand. She stared up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears in the moonlight.

“I love you too, Gale, with all my heart.”

Pressing one last kiss to his lips, Hope reluctantly pulled herself from him and entered the hut. Helen and Tatty sent her a few winks as she walked past them, but Ruth raised a brow skeptically from her bed, and Hope saw the questions shining in her friend’s eyes. The blonde managed to stay silent a few more seconds until her excitement and curiosity bubbled and broke free in her chest and she tugged Hope to sit down beside her. “Tell me everything!”

Gale strolled into the hut, his towel resting over his shoulder and his hair still dripping from his shower.

“Where the hell have you been?” Hugh asked, cocking his head to the right. “Was about to send out a search party to save you from my sister.”

Gale snorted, “I didn’t need any saving. The ‘future Mrs Cleven’ and I had a fine evening.”

Hugh rolled his eyes, “Oh Christ, you know what that means.”

Before Hugh could continue, Harding poked his head in the door with Major Bowman behind him.

“Evening Gentlemen. Everyone alright?” A chorus of ‘Yes Sir’ followed, and Harding nodded.

“Good. Glad you all had a good time. I just wanted to remind you all that the rule of ‘no women in the huts’ still stands. That goes for you too, Cleven.” He pointed at Gale suspiciously, eyeing him up and down before returning his attention to the rest of the men. “Have a good night, Gents.”

The door slammed shut and the room was left in silence, all the men looking at Gale, who was still standing in the center of the room in utter disbelief when John spoke up from his spot on his bed, placing ‘The Odor of Violets’ onto his nighstand.

“Buck, you sly dog,” he chuckled, pointing at his best friend with his brows raised. “You finally got some action!!”

A few moments later, the door opened again and it was Red’s face that appeared in the doorway. “And Egan,” the man sighed, fighting a smirk from appearing on his lips. “Next time you decide to give your girl a plane tour, make sure there’s no ground crewmen in the cockpit, alright? Night, boys.”

The second the door closed, the hut erupted into laughter and John’s was the loudest, his cackles echoing off the metal walls. “No one tell Ruth! She’d never wanna be seen with me again!”

Gale released a grateful sigh, thankful that the attention was no longer on him. John was used to that kind of attention, but he was not.

“Sounds like you’re the one who got some action, Bucky,” Demarco yelled from across the room.

“No action over here,” John shrugged, settling back down onto his cot and grabbing his book.

Bill scoffed on his cot beside Johnny’s. “I don’t believe that for one second. You two were all over each other at the party.”

“And you disappeared pretty early,” Bubbles added with a smirk.

“What? I swear! Is it that unbelievable?”

A chorus’ of ‘yeahs’ and ‘yes’ filled the hut at the question, and Bucky shook his head with a shrug, resuming his spot in his book. “Believe what you want, boys. Nothing happened.”

They continued to argue, but he just blocked them out, smiling to himself as he thought of the party and his evening spent with Ruth. John’s eyes drifted over to Gale across the room, who was seemingly doing the same thing, a small grin on his face that only appeared in Hope’s presence or at the thought of the nurse.

Feeling eyes on him, Buck’s gaze roamed around the room until it met Johnny’s over his book. The older man sent him a questioning eyebrow and when Gale shrugged with a smirk, he knew all he needed to know. When Gale sent him the same look, Bucky simply winked and went back to his book, and knew he was telling the truth.

It seemed the women in their lives brought out the other side of them…Hope brought out Gale’s bolder side, and Ruth brought out the loving and calmer John that Buck knew him to be.

The rest of the hut was still in disbelief at the atypical behavior of the majors, but Hugh just grinned from his position on his cot…he knew exactly why they both acted that way:

They were in love.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @blueberry-ovaries @forsythiagalt

[oleander-nin]

The Weight of a Letter(3)

A/N: Y'all I don't know a thing about basketball. My bad. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

Taglist? If you want to be added or removed, just say so: @ssak-i @sinister-things @ancreativename @t0ta11y-n0t-cup1d @idiotreblogger

Part 1 - Previous - Next

Words: 3617

Content warnings: mentions of stalking and paranoia, elevators, mention of not wearing a seatbelt(wear your seatbelt or I will smack you), my writing, multi-chap fic

Summary: The first one I received was innocent. Nothing more than a love letter from a secret admirer. But as more letters came, so did the fear and paranoia. Guess secret admirers aren't so romantic after all.

Chapter 3: A Watchful Eye

Silencing the countless reminders and notifications I had set to remind myself of Irma’s basketball game, I continued eating my breakfast. I chew through my cereal, scrolling through various social media apps as I wait for my brain to reboot. My head was heavy and throbbing slightly, most likely from dehydration. This morning was hard to recuperate, it was like my body shut down after the stress from last night. I frown, closing my eyes as I try to process my emotions. I knew this was coming for months, but now that they  actually left? Nothing felt real. I thought I would feel more free, no longer having my parents constantly looking over my shoulder and monitoring everything they did, but instead I felt numb. The world was too slow and fast at the same time, everything was too quiet but oh so mind numbingly loud. I didn’t like being alone. I didn’t want to be alone. Maybe Irma would stay over with me for a bit.

My phone buzzes again, another notification popping on my screen and bringing me out of my head. I tap on the messaging app, grinning at Irma’s good morning message. My leg bounces a bit as I wish her luck on the game and tell her my estimated time of arrival at the school. My phone gets set on the counter as I stand, my hands clasping above my head as I stretch and pop my back. I move through the kitchen, blinking tiredly as I set my cereal bowl in the sink. I quickly wash it, not wanting to cause a pile up of dishes for me in the future. If it sat in the sink for more than a day, I knew I would never touch it.

I move back to my room and grab my planned clothes, moving to the bathroom to take a shower with the bundle of clothes in my arms. I set my outfit in the sink, making sure it was dry before I did so. I look at the mirror for a moment, scanning my face. My hand comes up to touch my cheek, pulling at the skin as I tilt my head. My eyebags were evident, sleepless nights catching up to me and shouting my bad sleeping habits from the top of their lungs. I sigh, turning away from the mirror with a small frown. It would be fine, I just needed to ignore it. I will sleep better tonight and sleep in tomorrow. It would be fine.

I step into the shower, flinching slightly when the cold water from the shower head hits me. I reach my hands up to scrub at my hair, trying to ignore the bite of cold from the water. I dump a generous amount of shampoo in my hand, running it through my hair as the water finally starts to warm. Steam slowly rises from the water, filling the room with its heavy fog. I let the water run down my back for a moment, sighing softly as my hands rest at the base of my neck. I needed this, my brain finally calming as my eyes shut. The water continues to thrum against my skin as I continue to wash myself, being mindful not to slip on the tiles that lined the floor of the shower. 

I turn off the shower head, turning the knob until water stopped coming out. I run a hand through my hair, trying to dry it a bit before stepping out, water dripping off me and onto the small mat protecting the floor. I wrap a towel around me, drying off while I run a brush through my damp hair. Satisfied with the less tangled strands, I set the brush down and change into my outfit. The bright purple and red colors of our school adorn the jersey I wore over my hoodie, Irma’s number shown big and bright on the front. I run my hand through my damp hair one last time, trying to relieve some of the energy building up in my chest. My head buzzed with thoughts, not resting for even a moment. I needed to go, Irma was waiting. I walk back through the apartment and into the kitchen, grabbing my phone and slipping it into my pocket along with the keys I threw in the center bowl on the table.

I exit my apartment and lock the door behind me, resting my forehead against the cardboardy wood for a moment. I push myself off and start to walk down the hall and to the elevator. I hit the button once, moving to the side in case anyone needed to exit when the doors opened. The elevator arrives with a small ding, and I enter into the contraction, pressing the button for the first floor before moving to a corner and trying to press myself into the wall. The small chimes of a marimba sound as the elevator moves down. It was nice, being able to stand there for a moment with the light music sounding. The elevator doors opened again, allowing me to exit. I rush out, keeping my head down in case one of the older residents tries to rope me into a conversation.

The cool air of the outdoors hits me, the sky overhead cloudy and dark. Outside was damp, the sky showing signs of rain that threatened to fall. I scan the clouds for a moment, grimacing. I didn’t want to get caught in the rainstorm. I start to walk towards the school, debating whether or not I needed to run. I roll my shoulders before sighing. It was a ten minute walk to the school, and I didn’t trust those clouds. But if I ran, I would get winded by the time I was at the school and possibly sweaty. I didn’t want people to stare. But they would also stare if I was sopping wet from the rain. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath before nodding to myself. I would walk until it started to rain. Hopefully It would all work out in my favor.

I take one step when I feel a drop hit my head. Then another. Then another. I start to sprint towards the school as the sky opens up, unleashing its anger on the world as lightning starts to light up the world in place of the sun. I stick my hood over my head and run, grimacing as water starts to soak through my clothes. This was just my luck. I huff as I keep running, my arms pumping at my side as I stride forward in quick succession. A ten minute walk turns into a five minute run, my sneakers skidding on the pavement as I reach the school. A familiar chill runs down my spine, my head whipping around to look for eyes. I see nothing, only seeing cars pulling up with kids coming to watch the game. I scan the rooftops, thinking I would see the shadows as always, but the nearby buildings held none.

I open the door to the school and enter, the cold of the AC making me shiver. My dampened clothes clung to my skin, my hair pasting itself on my forehead and neck. I wipe my wet hands on my shorts, the squeaking of my shoes echoing through the dark halls of the school. I duck into the gym, making my way into the bleachers as I scan the bobbing heads on the court for Irma, both teams warming up with hoop shots and runs. I sit at the top, leaning my back against the white concrete wall of the gym. Taking off my wet hoodie, I sigh a bit. Being damp was not ideal. Hopefully I would dry off a bit during the duration of the game. I take the jersey off the hoodie and slip it over my shirt, holding my hoodie in my lap. The referee blows their whistle and the players line up, Irma shaking hands with the other captain. I lean forwards, resting my elbows on my knees as I watch the game start. Irma ended up being the one to get the ball between the captains, having jumped higher than the other and won the tip-off.

Watching Irma play was like watching a fish in water. She moves fluidly with her team, the ball seeming to be more of an additional limb than a random orange rubber ball. Irma had always tried to get me into basketball with her. I had tried, when we were both back in middle school, but had  given up after the ball rebounded from the backboard and went straight into my face. My nose was broken and my pride was too shattered to try and join the team. I played still, of course. Just never on a team. The local basketball court was my preferred way to play the game Irma and I's rounds of horse and around the world being superior to the actual game.

I cheered loudly when Irma got another basket, her lanky body dropping back to the ground after gravity caught up to her. I was convinced Irma was more rabbit than human, her quick movements and high jumps seeming inhuman. The game was going fast, Irma's team dominating as always. She passes to one of her teammates, who turns around and shoots the ball. I wince when she misses the basket, understanding her embarrassment. The opposing team gains the ball and the game goes on, Irma’s team doing their best to stop them from scoring a basket.

I watch the game with a wide grin, excitement building up in my chest, the impressive way the girls moved on the court sending shivers down my spine. My leg bounces, a constant thud of my sneakers against the metal of the bleachers bringing some peace to my jittery nerves. My hair raises on end while I watch, my brain stuttering to a halt. I glance around, peeling my eyes from the game and to the crowd, searching for the eyes I could feel burning into me. Down at the opposite bleachers, my eyebrows furrow as I make eye contact with someone who was shrouded in shadow, their face barely peeking out from where they hid under the bleachers. My heart sinks into my stomach as I continue to stare back at the figure, my mouth gone dry.

I couldn’t make anything out about them, their body distorted by shadows and the metal seats of the bleachers. I could tell they were wearing a purple hoodie, but that was it. I shift uncomfortably, looking back at the game as I try to focus once more. Irma’s team won the first half, taking a ten minute break for intermission. A part of me wanted to go down to Irma and tell her about the figure, to recruit her help in finding the person who was hiding under the bleachers. I glance back at where they were but see… Nothing. No one was there. I squint at the gaps between the seats, trying to find the mystery person. I couldn’t see anything, no one was there. 

I huff a bit, annoyed with myself. Of course they weren’t there, I was just seeing things again. I stand up and set my hoodie down where I was sitting, making my way down the bleachers to go buy some food from the concession stand. I wait in the short line while scanning the poster board menu, thinking over whether I should buy the slice of pizza or the hot dog.

I make my order, eating my food as I walk back over to the bleachers. My eyes drift over to the opposite side, looking at where I saw the figure standing. Watching. A shiver runs down my spine as I think about it, the feeling of the shadowed eyes raking over my skin was nightmare fuel. I quickly scarf down the rest of my food, wiping my mouth with the back of my wrist as I walk over to the opposite side of bleachers. I duck under them, looking through the shadows to see if I could find any proof of the figure. My hand rests on one of the poles holding the seats up, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I stare into the empty space. Nothing was here.

Sighing in defeat, I turn around. Running my hands through my hair, I walk out from under the bleachers and back towards my seat, patting at my legs as I do so. I pick back up my hoodie and sit down, leaning against the wall. My eyebrows furrow as I continue to stare at the spot the figure stood, racking my brain for a reason. Was I really just imagining it? It was plausible, knowing my history with the many shadows this past few months. Maybe my paranoia was just spiking and my brain filled in the blanks. I roll my shoulders and pop my back, my attention turning to the third quarter of the basketball game. It didn’t matter, nothing was there. It was just my imagination playing tricks on me. Again.

The last two quarters of the game go by fast, Irma’s team dominating as always. I stand up as the game ends, walking down the bleachers to stand on the sideline while all the players shake hands. Irma talks idly with her teammates, drinking at her water as she bounces on her feet. I see Irma’s dad in the bleachers, his arms crossed as he watches the players and audience disperse. Her dad meets my eye, a smile spreading across his face as he waves. I wave back. I was happy he came considering how much he worked. He was a trucker and was constantly on the road to deliver whatever he was hauling. I was surprised I didn’t notice him earlier, his large build and bushy red beard were quite eye-catching.

Her father finally stands up as Irma yells up at him, waving her long arms in a wide arch. Her father beams at his daughter, his booming voice sounding as he shouts back his praise. His sure steps thud slightly as he walks down the metal bleachers, his heavy work boots not helping the sound. Her father was always loud, his voice no lower than a boom. He was big, both in personality and person, able to captivate an entire room in an instant. 

I watch awkwardly as her dad picks Irma up, swinging her taller form around with ease as she laughs. His large hand ruffles her head, a small pit of guilt forming in my stomach. I wanted my parents to act with me like that, to hold me and celebrate my achievements. Irma’s dad might not always be with her in the moment, but he tried his hardest to support her in every opportunity. I admired that, his determination to make her as proud of him as he was of her. I remember when we were kids, taking us to the park to run around, how he gave Irma her first basketball and taught her how to play.

“You’re in your head again, you okay?” Irma’s dad takes me out of my thoughts, his large hand clasping my shoulder tightly as he shakes me gently. His gruff voice was comforting, Irma’s head poking over her fathers shoulder while she stares down at me. I shake my head, a wide grin spreading across my face. I shouldn’t envy Irma for her dad, considering he took me in as his second child years ago. He taught us both to drive, taught us both to cook, taught us both to live. In every way that mattered, he was my dad too. As far as he was concerned, I was just as much his kid as Irma. Especially considering he started introducing me as his kid years ago.

I shake my thoughts away, grinning up at the pair. “I’m all good Mr. Campbell, thank you.”

He nods, clapping me on the shoulder twice before straightening up. “Call me Tony. I’ve known you since you were born, you don’t have to be formal.” He says, as he always did. Irma’s dad hated the formality, hated the responsibility that he claimed came with ‘Mr’. His name was Antonio and he refused to even go by that, always saying it was ‘too fancy’ for him. I’ve only seen one person use his full name without correction, and that was the principal. He didn’t like the principal. 

Tony grabs both me and Irma by the shoulder, pushing us in front of him. Irma laughs slightly, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me forwards. Tony follows behind, Irma starting to babble on about her game. I listen closely, grinning as I compliment her on her impressive playing skills. We make it to the entrance of the school, Tony’s blue 1987 Chevy Silverado sitting in the parking lot. I look at it for a second, tilting my head. Tony notices my look, opening the door and ushering us in. “I thought we’d go for ice cream. I know you two go out for dinner after a game, but I wanted to take you both to ice cream for celebration. Do ya mind movin’ ya’s dinner t’ ‘morrow?"

“Not at all.” I say, sliding into the middle ‘seat’ of the Chevy. It’s more of a couch than a car seat, and I pull the small seatbelt over my lap while Irma buckles in on the passenger side. She was taller, so she got the side seat, her seatbelt pulling crossbody. Irma’s dad grabs the frame of the car, using the momentum of his pull to get into the car. He slams the door shut, jiggling it to make sure it was in place and wouldn’t swing open mid drive. Irma pulls out her phone and starts checking her notifications, leaning on me as she scrolls through her apps. Her eyes flick to her dad as he starts the engine, her brow furrowing.

“Seatbelt, dad.” She reminds. He grumbles, sticking his tongue out at her. I grin. Mr. Campbell was always fun.

“Can’t, ’s not fat friendly,” Tony pats his large stomach, frowning slightly as he puts the car in gear. “And the dang things are useless in this truck, they don’t lock like a normal cars.”

Despite his argument, he puts his seatbelt on, pouting like a small child. He was always one for car safety, being a trucker himself, but he always had a hard time with the seatbelt in this truck. It was tight over the lap and loose over the body. Tony’s larger frame made it more or less choke him whenever he tried to change gears. I lean back on the plush seat, looking over Irma’s shoulder as she scrolls through her phone.

“Why’d you go under the bleachers during the intermission?” Irma asks, glancing up at me inbetween her rounds of her phone’s game. I wince slightly, rubbing at my neck.

“Thought I saw someone down there. My eyes were playing tricks again.” I explain. Irma nods, patting my knee in quick comfort. Tony glances at me, a small frown bringing his lips down.

“You still seeing them shadows?” He asks, not moving his gaze from the road in front of him. I nod, fiddling with my fingers. Tony blows air out while his mouth is pressed together, making his lips rumble in a small vibrating noise. “Try put’ta mask on ya’s noggin’.”

I snort slightly. “That’s for tigers.” I say, shaking my head with a grin. Tony shrugs, patting the steering wheel.

“If it works, it works.” He says simply. Irma puts her phone back in her pocket, turning her attention to the both of us. The buildings went past as Mr. Campbell continued to drive, his hands steady on the wheel. 

“Do you want to stay with us tonight?” Irma suggests, looking at her dad in case he denies her suggestion. Tony seems to brighten at the suggestion instead, nodding eagerly.

He claps his hand as he pulls into the parking lot of the ice cream store, grinning widely at his daughter's suggestion. “Yes, yes, great idea. I was gonna make a big pot of spaghetti, and we need someone to help eat it. Plus, your’s parents left last night right? It’s only best you stay with us.”

I laugh slightly, Irma shaking her head at her dad’s enthusiasm to have me stay. We walk into the ice cream shop, waiting in line as her dad starts talking excitedly about the dinner he was planning on making. Irma leans into me, whispering softly as she watches her dad talk. “He wasn’t planning on making spaghetti, he just wants you to stay the night. He’d adopt you if given the chance.”

I snort at that. Tony had been trying to get me to call him dad for as long as I remember, joking with my parents at every chance that he’d just steal me so he could have a second kid. We move up to the counter, ordering our ice cream and Tony finally stops his spaghetti talk. We sit down at one of the booths, digging into our respective cones. Irma asks about a new pin on her dad’s hat, Tony starting on a new story about his trucking adventures and the gas station he got it from. I settle into the booth, eating my ice cream with a smile. Even if my own parents left, I would always have Irma and her dad keeping me close. Everything would be okay.

[bitchyfoxymama]

Valentine’s Day - Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, burnt food, Valentine’s Day, use of Wanda’s magic

A/n writing this on Feb 13 bc I work a double tomorrow at work and can’t post much so I’ve set this to post on Feb 14! Happy Valentines Day y’all

…

It was Valentine’s Day and lucky for you, no missions and no paperwork. You had a plan in motion, you had been scrolling through the Fenty x Savage website last month when you came across a gorgeous dark maroon lingerie set, Wanda’s color.

What better way to spend Valentine’s Day night than showing it off to your beautiful girlfriend. While she was distracted in the kitchen cooking a lovely dinner for the two of you, you changed into nothing but the lingerie set and a little on the nose but a trench coat.

You step out into the living room of your apartment and her here humming a Sokovian folk song.

“Wanda my beauty, I have one more present for you,” you let the words fall from your lips sultry.

“драга, could it possibly wait until we have eaten?”(Draga) She says without turning around.

“Oh this will definitely want to eat something,” you mumble out, “Well it is definitely something you’d like to see before we eat because you wouldn’t want it to get dirty.” You say louder this time while untying the thin belt of the trench coat.

She turns, spoon in her hand, and soon clatters to the floor once she sees you with your hands on your waist showing off the lingerie you are wearing.

“дефинитивно не желим да мој оброк пропадне”(i definitely don't want my meal to go to waste) she says as she roughly grabs you behind the head and kisses you. All the attraction and lust are in that one kiss. She uses her magic to pull the trench coat off you.

“Jump драга,”(detka) she commands, as she carries you to your dining room table and lays you back down. At this point your cunt is glistening from the dominant way she’s being with you. She once again uses her magic to rip away the lace underwear as you whine. “I’ll buy you a new pair later,” she flicks her wrist and both of yours are now held above your head, held together by her red magic.

You have to bite your lip to hold in the moan that wants to escape as she gently blows cold air onto your naked cunt.

“Oh no мала голубица, I want to hear those beautiful sounds fall from your lips,” she says before diving into her favorite meal. She licks up your pussy, swirling her wet, hot tongue on your little bundle of nerves as her nose rests in the hair just above. She keeps her eyes on yours as your face scrunches up in pleasure. You desperately wish to run your hands through her hair and ride her face but tonight she’s in control.

She runs one of her slim fingers through your folds collecting your slick, “would you like to taste how sweet you are драга?”

You mewl out a response before opening your mouth and accepting the tangy flavor that invades your senses. She dives back in and feasts on you as though tonight is her last day and you are her last meal.

“F-fuck Wanda, s’good, don’t stop,” your hips begin to close on her head but she stops you by using her hands to slip under your thighs and holds them open.

She brings her tongue to your entrance, licking and slurping. The sinful sounds only bring you closer to your own orgasm, and when she sticks her tongue inside you, you are a goner. Even with your hands pinned above your head you move your hips and begin to ride her face, causing her nose to continuously bump against your clit.

She brings one arm from your thighs as she removes her tongue, she lubes her pointer and middle finger with your slick and thrusts them into your gently. Her mouth going to your clitours, kissing and licking the little bundle of nerves. Your moans are music to her ears.

She curls her fingers inside of you, hitting that sponges spot your fingers can never reach. You arch your back and moan and she fucks you with her fingers.

“God, Wanda I’m so close, so close baby,” you moan.

“Oh? Are you мала голубица? Then let us get you there,” she says, kissing you as she continues her thrusts, her thumb going to rub fast, tight circles on your clit. The coil of pleasure builds, until it finally snaps and you become undone on her fingers. She releases you and you wrap your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue into her mouth, you can still taste yourself on her tongue.

It’s the smoke alarm and post orgasm clarity that pulls the both of you out of your little world.

“Fuck the Paprikesh!” You sit up quickly and try to stand but your legs almost give out.

Wanda wipes her lips with one finger while going to hold you with one hand, “That’s ok драга, I’ve already had my meal and a delicious one it was,”(detka) her words cause you to snap around and blush. With a quick flick of her wrists the burnt food is gone and the smoke alarms turn off.

“Now it’s time for my dinner,” you say as you walk back towards her.

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 14

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 5,847

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Read on Ao3

The day before the feast, you add the finishing touches to your gown and remove any stray threads you missed, until at last you can call it finished. You pack away your sewing things, regularly glancing at the gown to admire your hard work. Once all your tools are neatly tucked inside, you snap shut the lid of your sewing box when there’s a knock at your door.

“Just a moment!” You call out, bundling up the dress and taking it to your room, throwing it onto the bed before rushing to open the door to Gwaine.

“Harvest feast tomorrow,” He grins, clapping his hands together.

“And I have finished my gown,” You reply excitedly.

“I suppose I’m still not allowed to see it?” Gwaine quirks a brow.

“You need only wait one more day,”

“Then I await eagerly. But I have news of something before the feast. It has come to my attention that there will be food stalls and games in the tournament grounds during the day. I wondered if you might like to go together and see what it’s all about?”

“That does sound interesting… and I have no other plans,”

“Shall I come get you after breakfast then?”

“Sounds perfect,” You smile.

“Oh, and wear something you don’t mind getting dirty. The tournament grounds are muddy this time of year,”

“I’ll wear something that’s already brown,”

Gwaine chuckles. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, I’m meeting Percival at the tavern. See you tomorrow,”

~

Having requested water be brought up to your chambers that evening for bathing, and having paid the servants handsomely for their trouble in this busy time of year, you submerge yourself in the bathtub. You wash your entire body thoroughly as well as your hair, determined for everything to be perfect for tomorrow.

Once the water becomes tepid, you step out of the bath, dry yourself and get dressed, before tidying up for the night. Once your hair has dried some, but is still slightly damp, you apply the rags to your hair as Gwen showed you, and head to bed.

~

You rise the next morning, washing your face before getting dressed and covering your rag-wrapped hair with your regular cap, not wishing to reveal the new hairstyle until the feast tonight. You have breakfast and wash up, putting the last of the dishes away as there’s a knock at your door.

“Good morning,” Gwaine greets you, wearing his casual clothes. “Shall we?” He offers his arm to you with a grin.

You take your cloak from the hook beside the door, put it on, slip your arm through his and head out.

The tournament grounds have been transformed, the muddy ground hardly visible between the food stalls, tents, and other attendees. The grounds are already bustling with adults and children alike, with various mouth-watering aromas wafting through the air.

“Ah, here’s a good game,” Gwaine steers you toward a small tent with a bearded man, of about middle-age, standing by it. Under the shelter of the tent, you spot variously sized pails, each marked with a number, and by the tent’s opening, another pail is filled with apples.

“Welcome gentleman and gentlelady,” The man says cheerfully. “One silver for a turn, what do you say?”

Gwaine looks to you, brows raised in question.

“I’ll try it, if you support me from the sidelines,” You say.

Gwaine unfastens a pouch on his belt and removes the required coin, handing it to the gamemaster, who pockets it and nods his thanks.

“Has the lady ever played before?” He asks.

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” You reply.

“That is all well and good, for I shall explain the rules. To play this game, you shall take an apple,” He picks one from the nearby pail. “And toss it to the buckets yonder. As you can see, the smaller buckets toward the back are worth higher points, and the closer, larger buckets are worth less. Throw the apples until there are none left, trying to score the highest number of points you can. The more points you earn, the better the prize. Is the lady ready to begin?”

You look to Gwaine, who gives you an encouraging smile.

“I’m ready,” You reply to the gamemaster, fishing an apple from the pail.

It’s bruised and marked, clearly having been used for the game several times already. You toss the fruit with an underarm throw, and it bounces off the rim of the nearest bucket, into the mud. You grimace and grab another apple, using a little more force this time. It lands in the nearest bucket, worth ten points. On your third throw, you earn another ten points.

“You should try for the ones at the back,” Gwaine encourages.

You attempt it, your fourth toss overly forceful, the apple flying over all the pails and landing somewhere behind them, out of sight. You try again, but the apple bounces off the rim of one of the pails.

You look to Gwaine with a grimace. “Perhaps I should settle for a smaller prize,”

You throw the sixth and final apple, which lands in the pail worth twenty points.

“Forty points in total,” The gamemaster announces. “A good effort for the lady’s first time. Wait here a moment, I’ll get your prize,”

He turns and steps toward a wooden crate a few feet to the right of the pail of apples. Reaching into the crate, he removes a small item which he passes to you.

“Made by my wife,” He says. “To keep ladies’ clothes smelling nice while they are stored,”

You inspect the small prize in your hands. It’s a drawstring bag, made from a sheer fabric, with flower petals within it. Raising the bag to your nose, you inhale the floral aroma of roses.

“Please pass my compliments on to your wife,” You say. “This is a lovely prize,”

The gamemaster smiles widely. “She will be very pleased to hear it,”

After wandering through the grounds a while, taking in what the fair has to offer, Gwaine stops by another game tent.

“How about this?” He asks.

“I believe it’s your turn for a game,” You grin. “I shall cheer you on,”

Gwaine agrees and approaches the gamemaster, handing him a coin. Peering into the tent, you see a table at the far end, with ten cups stacked upon it in a triangular formation.

“What’s the aim of this game?” You ask.

“You take these,” Gwaine leans down to a hay bale beside the tent’s entrance, on which is a small pile of little sacks. He picks one up and bounces it in his hand. Judging by the sound of it, it’s filled with grain. “And toss them at the cups, trying to knock as many over as you can,”

He pulls his arm back and throws the sack. It hits the cup on the bottom right, but the cup only shifts slightly.

“I did wonder,” He murmurs.

“About what?” You ask.

“The cups are filled with water to make them harder to shift,”

“Ah, sneaky,” You smirk.

“Luckily, I’m the strongest knight,” He grins and grabs the next sack, throwing it with much more force this time.

Three cups tumble off the table. He throws the remaining sacks, knocking over eight cups in total. The gamemaster congratulates him and leads him to a small handcart nearby to choose a prize. Gwaine returns to you a few moments later, placing something into your hand.

“For you, my dear,”

Your heart flutters at the term of endearment and you look into your open palm to see a small whittled horse.

“Oh, that’s so sweet! I love it,” You smile.

You continue through the grounds and find another game to play, which consists of a tub filled with water, containing small wooden fish, each with a metal ring attached to it. With a miniature fishing rod (a hook attached to the end of a string, tied onto a stick), you’re given three chances to hook a fish, each marked with a number on the bottom which cannot be seen until it is caught. From this game, you win a handkerchief, embroidered with a simplified version of the golden dragon from Camelot’s crest.

After Gwaine purchases lunch for the both of you from one of the food stalls, you head back to the castle.

“Thank you, Gwaine,” You say once you reach your chamber door. “That was fun,”

“There’s more to be had tonight,” He smiles.

Slamming footsteps echo through the corridor, the sound causing you and Gwaine to turn your heads in unison to see Merlin rushing toward you. He skids to a halt a few feet away and pants.

“I saw you both coming this way,” He says breathily. “Just wanted to let you know that Erika won’t be coming tonight,”

Gwaine quirks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“She’s come up with a terrible rash, all over her face and everything,”

Gwaine presses his lips together into a line, but his eyes hold a twinkle of mirth.

“I see,” You say steadily, attempting to hide your relief and triumph from your face.

“Have a great time tonight!” Merlin beams, before turning on his heel and rushing back the way he came.

You and Gwaine catch each other’s gaze and chuckle.

“Well, I hope that eases any worries you might have had,” He says.

“As uncharitable as it may sound to admit, it really has,”

“It’s not uncharitable at all, considering who we’re speaking of,” Gwaine says. “Besides, her affliction won’t be anything that Gaius can’t clear up in a few days,”

“I suppose you’re right,” You nod thoughtfully. “Have you much to do before tonight?”

“Just polish my armour until it gleams,” He grimaces. “I already had my cloak laundered earlier this week, and you’ll be pleased to hear it’s still in top condition,”

“I am pleased to hear that,” You agree. “Well, I will let you attend to your armour and I shall see you tonight,”

“I’ll come and get you at six?”

“I will be ready,”

Gwaine reaches out a hand, cupping your face. Your heart quickens as you think he might kiss you, but he strokes his thumb gently across your cheek before pulling away, giving you a warm look and departing.

Once checking over your gown again, you idle away the next few hours, the sensation of Gwaine’s hand on your cheek still present. You have been yearning for his touch since his sensual hand kiss outside your chamber a few days before, finding yourself hoping for more every time you see him.

~

At last, the evening approaches. You go to your room, remove your clothes and swap your stockings, since the current pair is flecked with mud. In just your shift and clean stockings, you pull up a chair to the basin mirror and take off your cap to begin removing the rags from your hair. Once they are all removed, you begin the lengthy process of brushing through the fresh curls to tame them. Once you are happy with it, you slip into your new gown, using the mirror to aid you with fastening the side lacings.

The basin mirror too small to offer a full view, you move to the tall mirror in your main chamber by the work tables. As you gaze at your reflection, your chest swells with pride for your creation. The silver gown hugs your form to your waist, where it flares into a full skirt. The narrow sleeves on your forearms peek out from the wide scarlet sleeves of the over-robe, which forms into a cape at the back, and is secured at your throat with a gold clasp.

You finger the ends of your hair, anxiety about your appearance returning as the hour draws closer. You start to wish you had made some kind of head covering after all as a backup, but it’s too late now, you have no choice but to be seen like this.

You return to your bedchamber to brush through your hair again, manipulating it with your hands to form it how you want. Once that’s done, you apply some perfume to your neck and wrists before sitting on the edge of your bed, your stomach squirming with anticipation.

There’s a knock at your door and your mouth turns bone dry. Is it six o’clock already? You stand and lift your skirts to walk swiftly to the door. You open the door a crack, Gwaine looking back at you through the small gap.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks with a smile.

“I… suppose so,”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been stupid,”

“Stupid? How do you mean?” His brow creases with concern.

Seeing nothing else to do but show him, you swing the door wide open. He looks you up and down, lips parted, and you have the overwhelming urge to shrink away and hide, but before you can make any move, Gwaine rushes toward you, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips crash into yours. Your body goes rigid with shock and he pulls away, wide eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry, I –”

Flinging your arms around his neck, you pull his face toward you, your lips enveloping his, tasting him as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his. His hair brushes against your face as he deepens the kiss and your body goes slack in his embrace. You realise how much you’ve wanted this, needed this, to be so close to him, his arms around you, his actions, not just his words, showing how much he desires you.

You slowly pull away, eyes searching his to gauge his own feelings.

“(Y/N),” Gwaine says breathily. “I –”

“Took your time?” You suggest with a sly smile.

He laughs. “I suppose I did. I just,” He takes your hands into his. “Didn’t want to rush into anything. “Especially with everything that’s happened,”

“Let’s not dwell on falsehoods that were spoken about us. We know the truth,”

“You’re right,” He smiles, and takes a step back, looking you up and down. “You look magnificent. Your gown – knight’s colours?”

You nod.

“Give me a twirl, then,”

You chuckle, recalling your command to him to do the same when you made his new cloak, and spin around on the spot, your skirts flaring around you with the movement. Gwaine applauds and steps toward you, extending a hand to stroke your hair.

“I love it,” He says in a low tone.

“Really?” You look up at him. “You don’t think the other ladies will laugh at me?”

“I don’t think so. But if there’s anyone who does, they will suffer my wrath,”

“Your wrath? Goodness, will you strike them down where they stand?”

“I might, if pressed,”

“Well then, let’s hope you remain thoroughly un-pressed throughout the evening,”

Gwaine grins, before exclaiming. “Oh, I almost forgot,” He fishes in his pocket and procures a small item which he places in your hand. “I got you a little something,”

You look at the item in your open palm. It’s a small and ornate metal box. It’s oval shaped and engraved with a pattern of swirling leaves and flowers, a deep blue gemstone set in its centre.

“I thought maybe you could store your sewing needles in it,” Gwaine says. “Or whatever you prefer,”

You look up at him with a smile. “Thank you, Gwaine. It’s beautiful, and is the perfect size for my sewing needles. But I didn’t get you anything,”

“Don’t worry about that. You’ve done more than enough for me,”

You step forward and embrace him, the box still clasped in one hand.

“Shall we head to the feast?” He asks, his thumb rubbing small strokes on your back. “Or is the plan to be fashionably late?”

You pull away to see his smile, before you take the trinket box up to your room and place it on the bedside table. You return to Gwaine, who offers you his arm. You slip your arm through his and you both leave your chambers for the great hall.

The heavy double doors of the hall are propped open, allowing the golden candlelight to spill out to the corridor. Gwaine leads you within, where long tables line either side of the hall, the benches behind them already mostly filled with guests. At the far end of the room is another table, shorter than the rest, facing out, where the king and queen are seated, overlooking their guests.

Elyan spots you and Gwaine as you enter and approaches.

“Gwaine,” He says, giving his friend a playful smack on the arm. “Late, as always,” He turns to you and bows. “Good to see you, (Y/N),”

“Good evening, Sir Elyan,” You reply with a smile. “I’m afraid the blame for our lateness lies with me tonight,”

“Well, any extra time spent in preparation has paid off, (Y/N). You look stunning,”

“Thank you,” You smile. “You’re very kind,”

“Just stating facts,” Elyan winks.

“Go and woo someone else’s lady,” Gwaine shakes his head with a smile.

“Perhaps I will,” Elyan says with a grin, and returns the way he came.

“I didn’t realise Elyan was a flirt,” You remark.

“He’s not really, he just likes to rile me,”

“And are you riled?”

He chuckles. “No, it just makes me feel even luckier to have you on my arm,”

“Sweet-talker,” You nudge him playfully. Glancing to the front of the hall, you see that Gwen has spotted you. “You can greet your friends if you wish,” You say to Gwaine. “I would like to speak with the Queen,”

“Alright, I’ll save you a seat,” He unthreads your arm from his and kisses your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go.

You approach the royal table and Gwen stands, walking around to meet you, pulling you into an embrace as you approach.

“You look gorgeous, (Y/N),” She says. “Your gown is breathtaking; you are a true artist. And your hair looks beautiful,”

“Thanks to you,” You reply. “I wouldn’t have known what to do without your help,”

Gwen smiles and hooks her arm around yours, leading you around the hall.

“Sir Gwaine looks very dashing tonight,” She says, giving you a sly look.

“He looks just as dashing as he always does, only his armour is shinier than usual,”

Gwen chuckles. “It is a bit monotonous having the knights just wear their uniforms for special events. Perhaps I could submit a petition to change it? But then I foresee I’d receive some resistance from those who prefer not to have to think how to dress themselves,”

“Perhaps we should leave it then,” You reply. “So we need not witness any crimes of fashion. Monotony is more bearable than that,”

Gwen laughs as you turn at the front corner of the hall, approaching the knights’ table.

“I shall leave you with your dashing knight,” She stops behind an empty space between Gwaine and Sir Leon.

“Dashing knight?” Percival turns his head from beside Gwaine. “You must mean me,”

Gwaine elbows him before scooting over slightly, allowing you room to step over the bench and sit down, smoothing your skirts.

“Have fun,” Gwen smiles, before heading back to her place.

Shortly after, the hall goes quiet as the king stands, goblet raised in one hand. He expresses his gratitude and thanks to the kingdom’s farmers for a bountiful harvest, and urges everyone to enjoy the feast. Once he’s seated again, the chatter resumes and servants flood into the hall, bearing platters of food. The royal table is served first, then both the guest tables simultaneously.

“Can I get you something?” Gwaine asks, once another round of servants place down plates and cutlery in front of every guest.

You glance over the abundance of food laid out before you. “A bit of everything within reach,”

Gwaine grins and begins to load up your plate. A minute or so later, he places your plate, now covered with a mountain of food, back down in front of you, before attending to his own.

“Would you like something to drink, (Y/N)?” Leon asks from your other side. “There’s ale, wine and mead,”

“Oh,” You purse your lips thoughtfully, as you remember the delicious and warming drink you shared with Gwen during the intermission at the jousting tournament. “I’ll have some mead, thank you Sir Leon,”

“Just Leon will do, we’re all friends here,” He smiles and reaches for a flagon, bringing it forth to pour some of the golden liquid into your goblet.

You thank him and take a sip of the rich drink, before starting on the pile of food in front of you, sighing at the wondrous flavours that bless your tongue.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gwaine leans in to your ear to be heard, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“You must invite me to every feast from now on,” You reply.

“I was planning to,” His eyes twinkle in the candlelight.

You finish your plate, declining Gwaine’s offer of seconds only for fear that your stomach might burst. When the feasting is finished, conversation flows more steadily throughout the hall, guests’ mouths no longer occupied with chewing.

While you have some conversation with Gwaine and Sir Leon since they are beside you, you can’t manage much more above the noise. Your mind wanders to what occurred only hours ago. You glance beside you, watching his mouth as he brings his goblet to his lips, and you wish you could retire early and head back to your chambers, just the two of you. Gwaine catches your eye and you give him a quick smile, attempting to disguise the nature of your thoughts, before reaching for your own drink and draining the rest. You ask Sir Leon to pass you the mead flagon and refill your goblet before the king stands, the hall going quiet again.

“I have called in the minstrels, so the dancing may begin!” He offers his hand to Gwen, and she takes it and stands, the king and queen making their way around their table and to the middle of the hall.

Noticing movement in the corner of your eye, behind the royal table, you spot a small group of minstrels seated together. The king and queen get into position, the king turns his head to the minstrels and nods, and they begin to play. The king and queen dance as the guests, including yourself, look on, however your focus is not so much on their dancing, but their faces. Their love and adoration for each other is clear to see, and it brings a smile to your face.

A few minutes later, the music ends and the king and queen return to their seats, as members of the nobility gather in the centre, and the minstrels play another tune. The music is pleasing and you find yourself lightly swaying with the rhythm.

“Would you care for a dance?” Gwaine asks from beside you.

You chuckle. “Oh no, you’d better not ask me; I don’t know how,”

“There’s no one else I’d want to ask,” He replies and glances to the dancers ahead. “I haven’t danced like this for a long time, not since before my father passed. But I’m sure it’s all still in here somewhere,” He taps against his temple with the tip of his index finger. “I can teach you,”

He offers his hand to you. You glance between his open palm and eager eyes with a grimace.

“Not in front of everyone,” He clarifies. “There’s a quiet looking spot over there,” He inclines his head to the front left corner of the hall. “We can dance our own little jig with our own rules. What do you say?”

You look to the aforementioned corner, seeing that it is unoccupied, and out of the way. Surely no one would look there, when all the goings-on are happening in the centre of the hall.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I accept your proposal,” You slip your hand into Gwaine’s.

He grins, and you take two large gulps from your goblet before you allow Gwaine to guide you from the table. When you reach the chosen dancing spot, Gwaine lets go of your hand.

“Right, let’s see… first, we must stand apart,” He takes you by the shoulders and gently guides you a few steps back.

You stay in position as he retreats a few steps away and turns to face you.

“I bow, and you curtsy,” He continues, and you both do so. “Now we close the gap and take each other’s hand,”

You follow his lead as he approaches and extends his right arm, and you take his hand in your left. He turns his body and encourages you to do the same, so you are both facing the same way now, standing side-by-side and hand-in-hand.

“We take some steps forward,” Gwaine says, and you follow his lead as he talks through the steps. “And some steps back. Then, hang on, I’ll show you,”

He lets go of your hand and hops forward, then alternates between hopping on one foot while the other is extended slightly in front, leg bent, then does a larger hop with a flourish, before doing the same movements again, but moving backwards this time.

“I don’t know how I’m going to remember that,” You frown.

“It’s not so bad,” Gwaine replies. “Let’s go through it together slowly,”

You stand beside him and watch as he goes through the movements slowed down, before attempting to copy him. The two of you go through the slowed down version a total of three times, before Gwaine suggests to try it at full speed. You feel slightly foolish but laugh your way through the steps.

“You’ve got it!” Gwaine exclaims with delight. “Now do it while holding hands,”

You go through the steps again, your fingers enclosed in his.

“And now,” Gwaine says. “We do the same steps while moving in a circle,”

Gwaine guides you, doing the same leg movements as before but gradually turning as you do, until making a full rotation.

“And now, the really fun part,” Gwaine says. “We face each other,” He turns to you and you do the same. He puts his hands on your waist, your heart fluttering at the contact. “Now put your right hand on my shoulder,” He instructs, and you do as he says. “We do the same movements while turning, but on the fourth count, I lift you into the air,”

“You what?”

“Lift you,” Gwaine grins as his hands grip your waist tightly and the next moment, you’re about a foot off the ground.

You squeal with a mix of terror and delight, blushing on your return to solid ground when you notice some of the other guests are looking your way.

“And we do that four times,” Gwaine says. “The part after that is a bit complicated, so we can leave it out. Shall we do it all together now?”

“In a moment, I need some refreshment after all that!”

You return to your place at the table and drain your goblet, finding the flagon and refilling, taking a few sips from that, before returning to Gwaine.

“Nothing like a bit of liquid courage,” You remark.

Eying the dancefloor, you see the noble couples dancing, their movements fluid and graceful.

“Don’t worry about them,” Gwaine says, following your gaze. “They’ve had years of instruction from dancing masters.”

“Did you have a dancing master?” You ask.

“I did back in the day, if you can believe it,” He chuckles. “It’s all part of being from a noble family. You’re lucky you didn’t have to waste so much time attending lessons,”

“Lucky until today, where I have no idea what I’m doing,”

“But tonight, I am your dancing master,” Gwaine gives an exaggerated bow.

“I don’t think you’d be a good dancing master for me,”

Gwaine clutches his chest in mock offence. “Why would you say such a thing, dear lady?”

“Because… I wouldn’t be able to focus on the dancing,”

He smirks. “You’ve managed well enough tonight. Shall we put my instruction to the test?”

The minstrel’s tune finishes with his sentence, and you nod before taking position. The minstrels begin a new tune and you watch for Gwaine’s signal and begin the dance. You move in time with the music, though you stumble through the hopping steps, laughing as you do so. After the section where the steps are performed in a rotation, you face Gwaine and he grips your waist, lifting you into the air. In the next moment, you’re on solid ground again, doing the leg movements, then you’re in the air again, down, up, down and up, you feel giddy and light as air, looking into the face of the man who has become so dear to you as he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way you love.

After the fourth and final turn, you and Gwaine laugh, breath laboured from the exercise. Though you’ve reached the end of the steps you’ve been taught, the minstrel’s tune continues. Not wanting the dance to end, you move your hand from Gwaine’s shoulder around to his back, pulling yourself closer to him, so your body is against his. His hands shift from the sides of your waist to the small of your back and you both sway with the music, slowly turning on the spot with small steps. You relish the feeling of his body against yours, wishing you could stay like this forever, when the tune comes to an end. You pull apart slowly, as if waking from a dream.

“You danced well,” Gwaine says softly.

“My gown hid my terrible footwork,”

He smiles. “My favourite part was the bit you improvised at the end,”

His gaze is so tender, his words so sincere, you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks. You take his hand and return to your seats, Sir Leon giving a knowing smile as you sit down. You take another sip of mead as the minstrels begin their next tune. You watch the dancers, chin resting on your palm. If you could dance like them, you think you should want to do it every day. You conjure an image of minstrels set up in the corner of your chambers, playing a tune while you and Gwaine dance.

“You alright there?” Gwaine’s amused voice pulls you back to reality.

“Just daydreaming,”

“What about?”

“Silly things,”

The music stops and the minstrels stand and bow, marking the end of their performance. You join the other guests in applause as the minstrels gather their instruments and quit the hall.

“They were wonderful,” You comment. “There should be music every night,”

“I’ll bring it up to Arthur at the next council meeting,” Gwaine smirks.

“Then we shall have daily music and crimes of fashion,”

“What?” Gwaine chuckles.

“Oh, nothing. Just something Gwen and I spoke of,”

Laughter erupts from the opposite table, in response to some unheard jest. Glancing down your own table, you see Sirs Percival and Elyan arm wrestling. The murmur of chatter fills the hall again now that the dancing and music has come to an end, and your head buzzes from the hours of noise and recent physical activity. You sigh as fatigue hits you.

“It’ll probably be mostly drunken antics from now on, if you wish to retire,” Gwaine murmurs in your ear.

“Perhaps I should, if you don’t mind,” You drain the remaining contents of your goblet. “We wouldn’t want to add my own drunken antics to the display,”

Gwaine stands and offers his hand, aiding you up from your seat. You express your desire to say goodbye to Gwen before you leave, so Gwaine escorts you to the royal table.

“We’re leaving now,” You lean down to speak in Gwen’s ear. “I had a lovely time,”

“It looked like it. I enjoyed your dance,” She smiles between you and Gwaine.

The king leans out to speak from beside the queen. “I hope you enjoyed your first feast in the palace?”

“Very much, sire. I’d never tasted such delights before tonight,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He smiles.

“We shall bid you goodnight now, sire,” Gwaine says to the king. “My lady,” He bows to the queen.

You and Gwaine walk arm-in-arm down the length of the hall and through the double doors into the corridor. The sound of the festivities fade as you turn into a passage and climb the first flight of stairs.

Once reaching your chambers, you head inside, leaving the door ajar behind you. Feeling no presence at your side, you look back and find Gwaine still standing just outside the entrance.

“Come inside,” You beckon him, extending a hand, which he takes and closes the gap between you.

You cup your hand on his cheek, brushing against his short beard, lightly pulling him closer to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“My dancing master,” You sigh with a serene smile.

“As a general rule, I don’t think you’re supposed to kiss your dancing master,”

“I suppose not. But I am supposed to kiss my…”

Love. You shift your gaze from his as you think the unsaid word. You feel it with all your heart. You love him. But if he is not there yet, not ready to return the words… you do not want to force him into an awkward situation, or worse, have him say the words when he might not mean them.

“My sweetheart,” You settle for the lesser word, returning your gaze to his.

He smiles. “That, of course, is allowed,” He leans in and kisses you.

The sensation of his lips on yours sends a warmth through you, and once he pulls away, you wrap your arms around him. He does the same, cradling the back of your head in one hand.

“It feels so good being in your arms,” You sigh. “Though your armour is a bit hard and cold,”

“I don’t think they had embracing in mind when they designed it,”

You simply hum in response, feeling as if you might drift off in his arms.

“You need to get some rest,” Gwaine rubs your back.

“I’m not tired yet,” You lie.

“Yes, you are,” He laughs “You should get yourself off to bed,”

“But I want to stay with you,”

“You’ll see me again soon enough. We do live in the same castle,” He grins. “I’m going to go, then you can change in to your night things and go to bed,”

You sigh. “Alright,”

Gwaine pulls back to look at you. “Thank you for a wonderful time this evening,” You smile up at him as he plants a tender kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight,”

He lets go of you and heads for the door, stopping to look back from the doorway.

“Goodnight, Sir Gwaine,” You blink sleepily as he closes the door behind him.

[zablife]

Hi Lee, hope you are feeling better. I hope you have a lovely week ahead. I was wondering if I could make a headcanon request for how Tommy, John, Alfie, Michael, Luca and Jack surprise the reader for valentines day. I've also just seen Florence + The Machine live and was curious which Florence song you would designate to each Peaky character (women included)?

Hi darl, tysm for the well wishes and this lovely request! It was so much fun! I hope you enjoy my answers (below the cut).

Peaky Blinders Valentine's Day

🌹Tommy-It's a huge surprise when your workaholic bf takes the day off to spend it with you. He lets you sleep late, cuddled into his side, and has Frances bring breakfast in bed. You spend a leisurely day on the grounds of Arrow House laughing and talking without a care in the world. Tomorrow the hectic pace of Tommy's life will take over again, but tonight he's all yours. You end the day in the large clawfoot tub together sipping champagne.

🌹John-He finds a babysitter for the children and whisks you away in the vardo to remind you of a time before you both had responsibilities. It thrills you to go off wandering as though you were reckless teenagers. John picks wildflowers for you like he did years ago on your first Valentine's Day together. As night falls, you sit by the warm campfire, drinking from the same bottle and recalling all your happiest moments as a couple.

🌹Alfie-You wake up on Valentines' Day to find Cyril wearing a sign that says "Big Brother." When you tell Alfie you're confused, he brings you a small whimpering bundle and your heart nearly bursts. Inside is the puppy Ollie rescued a week ago outside the distillery. The same puppy Alfie insisted you couldn't keep. As Alfie leans in to offer an apology to you, the pup steals his make up kiss, licking your nose and making you giggle with delight.

🌹Michael-He knows a romantic evening at home won't be happening with his mum listening so he takes you out on the town for a night of dancing. You're shocked that he doesn't complain once the entire evening. Michael twirls and dips you on the dance floor as other couples look on enviously. When the band plays a slow tune, it feels safe and warm in his embrace. And when you rest your head on his shoulder, he whispers sweet words that make your heart flutter.

🌹Luca-You're stunned to see Luca in the kitchen, covered in flour when you return home from work. He explains that he's making homemade gnocchi for dinner and offers to teach you. He stands behind you, taking your hands in his as he shows you how to create the proper shape and can't help stealing a kiss when you make one perfectly by yourself.

🌹Jack-It's no surprise that Jack buys you the most beautiful diamond and ruby necklace you've ever seen for Valentine's Day. He loves to spend money on you and often buys you lavish gifts to show his affection. "Nothing's too good for my girl," he tells you. As he removes the jewelry from its velvet case, he clasps the cool metal around your neck carefully, placing delicate kisses to your shoulder that make you shiver with pleasure.

The second part of your request was to match Peaky characters to the Florence + the Machine song I associate them with, but I decided to use couples in honor of Valentine's Day. I hope that's ok.

Tommy + Lizzie - Cosmic Love

Arthur + Linda - Kiss With a Fist

John + Esme - Wish That You Were Here

Polly + Aberama - Heaven is Here

Ada + Freddie - You've Got the Love

Michael + Gina - Dream Girl Evil

[abyssal-zone-stares-back]

Once More Into Eternity with You

Night x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Part 1

Warnings - ANGST, cliffhanger

429 CE

In the beginning, you were one of his servants. A follower and caretaker in his temple. Back in the days when gods walked among men. 

You’ve seen him walking through the temple, of course you did, it’s his temple. Always afraid to approach him, you left gifts at altars instead to show your devotion. 

He became interested in you. Called you the “shy one” to the other temple helpers, trying to get information from them about you. They weren’t much help. So he just watched you from afar. Finally, when you were alone one day, he approached.

“Hello.” You startled, whirling around. “Night,” 

You were surprised to see him here. It was his temple, but he rarely was there when the sun was out, especially in the middle of the day. He was in his mortal form which was helpful for you to talk to him since his godly form was around 9ft tall. 

Could he only use that at night? Or maybe he was trying not to scare you. It kind of worked, you’re not as scared as you would be, you mused before you startled slightly again. Night had placed his hand on your shoulder. 

He smiled as you looked at him again. “There we go. You were a little star-struck for a moment Starlight. Although that is understandable, you are in my presence.” 

“I’m, I’m sorry about that, me um, getting distracted.” You replied. Night removed his hand, waving it to dismiss the thought. “It’s fine,” He grinned wider. “I’m used to it.”

“Now then,” He leaned closer. “I would like to talk to you.” From the close proximity you could start to feel the burn of embarrassment start to form across your cheeks. “Are, are we not t-talking now?”

Night leaned back, barking a laugh. “I suppose we are. I mean later. Meet me at the hidden altar after midnight tonight.” And with that he walked away, leaving you confused, still holding the offering you meant to give him.

—-

You showed up at the altar at midnight, intending to leave your offering there before he shows up. 

Turning the corner you look behind you, making sure no one is looking. It’s odd for anyone to be back here. It’s unused but cleaned with the others. Saved for special days. What days you aren’t sure, as they haven't taken place in your lifetime. Yet.

After you are sure no one’s watching you pull back the curtain. It’s different back here. Colder, and the skylights that are abundant everywhere else in the temple aren’t here. You can’t see the night sky. 

Walking closer you jump when a voice speaks. “You’re early Starlight.” Turning you see Night perched on a stone shelf. No, a stone altar. A big one. He stands up. Why is he back here at midnight? Walking closer he puts his hands behind his back.

He’s normally up in the main part of the temple at this time, with his followers. “Is that for me?” He nods at your hands. “Yes,” You replied. He said after midnight, not before, not during. You hand over your offering. A bundle of White bellflowers.

“They’re very nice, thank you.” He waved his hand holding the flowers and they were gone. “But that’s not why I asked you here.” “Why have you asked me here then?” The more you were with him the braver you got.

“To talk to you. Get to know you better.” He waved his hand again, summoning an apple. “I know all of my temple caretakers. Everyone except you.” He moved to sit on the altar, gesturing for you to join him.

“You want to get to know me better?” You took a seat on the edge of the altar. He nodded, inspecting the apple in his hand. After a second he broke it in half with his hands, offering you a half. 

“Thank you.” You took it but didn’t eat. Night chuckled. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re worried about.” He took a bite from his half, you doing the same.

He started up general conversation, the both of you eating your apples. After a while he had to go but asked you to meet him again tomorrow night. Needless to say, you agreed, after all who would say no to a god? And you didn’t mind his company.

Every time after a meeting Night asked you to meet him again. You went every time. You wondered when he would end it. It was to just get to know you. You brought this up to him once. “Do you do this with anyone else?”

Night just chuckled, looking away. “You don’t need to know that Moonbeam.” He ended that meeting sooner than the others and you never brought it up again. The days of meetings turned into weeks, the two of you sitting closer together with each passing day.

Tonight you were sitting the closest you had ever been. “Can I ask you a question, Moonbeam?” You nodded, swallowing your mouthful of food he gave you. “I’ve been feeling a certain way and I don’t know what it is.”

“A way that I haven’t before,” “Can you describe it to me? Maybe I can help.” 

“It’s, it’s like a churning in my stomach. And a strange pressure in my chest. But it only happens, it only happens sometimes.” The description seems familiar, but you need to be sure.

“Is it also the feeling of missing something, and you won’t be complete without it? The, need to be around someone if they’re not next to you?”

Night nods and you know. The realization makes your heart sink but you ignore it for now. “Well Night, I’d say it sounds like you’re in love.”

Night laughed, a sound you started to enjoy over the course of your meetings, but this one sounded forced.

“Me? In love? Who, who would I be in love with! You?” You jerked back shocked and Night's eyes grew wide. You stood up, Night standing with you.

“Now Starling, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean,” “Sure you didn’t,” You had walked to the door at this point, turning to face him. “I don’t think I can make it to our meeting tomorrow Night. Don’t show up.”

And with that, you left.

[part 2]

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.59 - Cut My Roots Away

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Simon pops the question.

"I'm not going to lie, Eva. I'm nervous." Simon admitted to Kiera's mother after a desperate phone call - a call he felt he needed to make - knowing that aside from Kiera, her mother was able to help ease his nerves with reassurance. 

"Don't be, dear," Eva giggled. "The worst she can say is no." 

Simon scoffed, "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of. I've never been in a situation like this before."

"It's okay, honey. I'm sure she won't say no. You make her too happy for her to do that. Where did you decide to ask her?" 

"There's a bridge that crosses one of the canals in town. We walked there on her birthday by complete accident. It turns out that it was a place I used to go to when I was younger. A place that I used to go to find closure turned into a place where I truly found it. Your daughter is my entire world." 

He heard her gasp from the other end of the phone, a sly whimper escaping her lips before she replied, "And you're hers, Simon. I know it's going to be special for the both of you. I'm proud of you, honey." 

He huffed in satisfaction, haven't hearing that before, he gained confidence knowing that her own mother approved of his decision. "Thank you." 

"You're more than welcome. You better send me a picture of the ring once it's on that pretty finger of hers!" Eva giggled. "How's she doing? You mentioned she got a little sick on the plane." 

"She's doing better. I think it was the long flight. She hasn't gotten sick since we've been here." 

He wanted to tell her so bad that she was expecting new grandchildren, but he knew better. I'm not going to take that surprise from her by telling her myself. 

"Good. What time were you planning on asking the big question?" 

"Tonight. We leave for London tomorrow and to get her dress altered. Since we're going tomorrow, I figured I'd plan a nice dinner tonight and to go to the bridge so she can see the city at night. I have a lot planned today." 

"That you do, honey. Just so you know, I'll be sitting on the edge of my seat until I hear from you or my baby girl." 

*

"You're taking a scenic route today." Kiera giggled as she looked out the passenger side window, admiring the rolling hills outside of Manchester. 

"There's somewhere I want to take you," He replied, reaching over to graze her growing belly, nervous about not only the proposal, but to finally tell her his entire backstory - the reason why he was nearly emotionally closed off - to show her that she was the only person to expose him in his true vulnerability - the only person who made him comfortable enough to make him willing to expose himself.

Only to her. 

Once he parked at the entrance to the cemetery, Kiera knew why he was bringing her there. She found herself sighing in relief, knowing that she had finally broken down the wall that he had built so high in an attempt to protect the last ounce of humanity he felt he had left. 

He assisted her out of his car, letting her grasp the sleeve of his jacket as he made his way to the trunk of the car to reveal a bundle of carnations and roses he had picked up to deliver to his mother's final resting place. "She'll love those, Simon." 

"She always loved roses," He sighed, frowning at how he didn't get to bring her flowers like he used to. She frowned along with him, knowing he didn't deserve to have to visit his relatives in a cemetery when all she had to do to visit hers was go to the house next door. It wasn't fair. "I haven't been here since my last deployment." 

"It's okay, Simon. You couldn't control that." 

She walked alongside him to the gravesite. His mother, along with Simon's brother, nephew, and his sister-in-law were all buried within the same plot, Kiera seeing no sign of a spot for his father. She frowned as they approached her headstone, seeing the previous bundle of flowers wilted from being there for so long. He kneeled to one knee, removing the old flowers and replacing them with the new ones, reaching to wipe away dirt that had caked on his mother's name engraved into the stone:

BELOVED MOTHER

VICTORIA ANNE RILEY

"SHED NOT FOR HER THE BITTER TEAR NOR GIVE THE HEART TO VAIN REGRET. TIS BUT MERE ASHES THAT LIE HERE. THE GEM THAT FILLED IT SPARKLES YET."

"I brought someone to meet you, mum. She's very special." She heard him whisper at a low tone after wiping away the dirt from her name and moving to where he sat in front of the stone, helping Kiera to sit between his legs. 

"It's quiet here." 

"Just how she would've liked. She always liked it being quiet," He breathed a chuckle, his eyes never leaving the sight of the stone, his heart breaking all over again knowing that he'd never see his mother again as well as his own brother and nephew. "Before you came along, she was the only person that gave me a reason. I can't begin to tell you how painful it is to not be able to pick up the phone and call her when I needed to talk to her. Or to see my nephew on Christmas. Even my own brother." 

She frowned, "I didn't know you had a nephew." 

"I didn't want to tell you," He huffed. "I kept this part of my life hidden for so long. A memory I never wanted to remember." 

"You don't have to tell me, Simon. I know this is hard for you." 

"You deserve to know, love," He frowned, taking it upon himself to adjust the jacket she was wearing to cover the bare spot on her wrist - a small detail that he picked up on to be against the cold chill of wind that she hadn't picked up on yet. "I joined the British Army when I was eighteen. Right after 9/11. I eventually qualified for the Special Air Service and served until 2003, coming home to find out that my father had been cheating on my mother repeatedly and my brother was addicted to drugs. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't go back into the service until I fixed the damage my father caused." 

"Was your father mean to you?" 

"I wish I could deny it, but yes. I remember him taunting me with exotic animals when I was a kid. He'd scare me with them - put snakes in my bed, spiders in my clothes, roaches in my shoes, would make me kiss snakes, put spiders under my pillow at night. My brother thought it was funny, eventually taking it upon himself to scare me with skull masks and throw darts at me. He was two years younger than me, so I guess I let him off easy when I grew up considering he didn't know better. I eventually beat my father for hitting my mother. Threw him out of the house and vowed to make my brother kick his substance abuse. Eventually, he found himself a wife and settled down. Gave me a nephew to spend my money on." He said with a chuckle, recalling the many times his heart would melt at the sight of Joseph running into his arms, expecting a new toy he knew Simon would always get for him. Whether it be a toy truck or a wooden horse, Joseph admired them. 

"Can-Can I ask what happened?" 

"Choices have consequences," He sighed, his left arm snugging her closer into his chest. "And consequences can turn into something insidious. Enemies don't care about what it takes to make your life a living hell. They definitely did," He began to explain, his voice nearly cracking. "In 2010, I was sent to Mexico to help hunt down a cartel leader. I was sent with Delta Force with four American Corporals and Sergeants. One of them betrayed our entire team and it lead to three of us being captured and tortured for several months. I still have nightmares about it - being hung by my ribs, shock torture, assault, attempted brainwashing, everything." 

She reached for his left hand, rubbing along his protruding veins with the pad of her thumb, looking down at the digits, wondering what all they had been through when it came to survival, admiring him for not only overcoming his fear of telling her about his past, but overcoming it altogether. She felt her eyes swell with tears, wishing she could've taken the pain for him. "Once all of that was over, I came home to find them taken from me. The only family I ever had, my reason for coming home. No amount of torture could've topped me having to see my nephew's feet laying against the floor with one of the many toys I got for his birthday or Christmas scattered around in his bedroom, seeing my mom slain the way she was, my brother on top of his wife where it looked like he was protecting her. I blame myself for it every day, knowing that if I could've done something faster, I could've stopped it." 

"You can't blame yourself for that, Simon. It's not your fault." 

"In a way, it is. I held myself back from getting revenge when I should've done it to begin with. I had every chance in the world to take them out but didn't because I would've died too. If I would've done that, they would still be here." 

Kiera didn't know what to say - she didn't know how to say something if it came to her mind. She had her own share of torture, but nothing compared to what Simon had been through. 

Nowhere near it.

"I'm so sorry, Simon." She frowned, bringing his hand up to her mouth to place a soft kiss to his palm. 

"No need to be sorry, love. Nothing can change what happened." 

"I know, but you don't need to blame yourself, Simon." 

"I will for the rest of my days, unfortunately," He sighed. "But for once I can admit that it feels nice being able to talk about it without the fear of being judged about it." 

"I can understand that. There's- There's a lot I haven't told you." 

"That's okay, love," He frowned, knowing exactly what it was that she was refraining to tell him. "You don't have to tell me." 

"I feel like I should-"

"I already know." 

She snapped her head over her shoulder to look at him - shock expressing her complexion. "How?" 

"Just know this: that ever won't happen to you again." 

She whimpered, bowing her head as she let the tears fall - except it wasn't tears for her own past. 

They fell for him. 

All walls were finally broken between the pair of them. Each knowing of the other's past - each admiring the other even more for not only overcoming their past but being able to continue forward in each other's future. 

*

"I see you got your appetite back, love." Simon snickered from across the table, thankful that she was eating without any hesitation. Granted she only got herself a salad, she swore it was enough to keep her stomach full. 

Even though she had constantly asked if his food was good, implying she wanted a bite for herself as it looked rather appetizing. 

Seeing that mischievous glare in her eye that he grew to love, he cut another piece from the lamb chop and reached it over the table, knowing she was going to ask for another bite after realizing that lamb was just as good as steak. "What made you want to take us out to somewhere fancy tonight?" She giggled, covering her mouth with her left hand as she chewed, unaware of the glance he was making towards her ring finger. I can't wait to see that diamond on her finger. 

"Figured where it was our last night here, we'd go out and have a nice dinner." He shrugged. 

"You definitely chose a nice place, babe." 

"I figured since you liked the breakfast here, you'd definitely like the dinner." He chuckled, sitting back in his chair to take a sip from his glass of water, chuckling at how Kiera grimaced at him drinking water - swearing up and down that "only Dr. Pepper is to be enjoyed with dinner." 

He chuckled at her, that familiar feeling of the world closing off around them consuming him as she was his primary focus. 

She always was. 

Since the moment he met her - she found ways to sneak into his mind without having to do anything at all. 

"Thank you for this, Simon. All of this. I've never felt so pampered before. I don't even think I deserve it-" 

"There you go talking nonsense again, love," He arched his brow. "Better get used to the pampering because when you get to where you're waddling around and struggling to put your shoes on, you won't have the chance to do it yourself." 

She giggled, "I don't think I'd be able to anyway. I'm already huge." 

"It flatters you," He smirked, licking his bottom lip free of water while he continued to watch her. "I'm still in shock there's two of them in there." 

"Believe me, I am too," She rolled her eyes. "I definitely feel like there's two babies in here. They're going to be fighting each other all the time. I feel it happening soon enough." 

"You're probably right. Although one of you is scary enough, I can't imagine another one." He poked. 

"I can agree with that," She scoffed. "Although with our luck, both of 'em will be just like me." 

"Christ." 

She laughed, "So, what time are we going to leave tomorrow?"

"It's about a four-hour drive. Considering I have to go the speed limit, probably more than that." He shrugged. 

"Didn't think it was that far." 

"We're in Manchester, love. Quite a bit away from the big city."

"This city is big enough." 

"You haven't seen anything yet," He chuckled. "After the ball, we'll be flying back home the next day given if Teeter hasn't gotten herself hitched." 

"I don't see that happening," She giggled. "Never saw her as the type to settle down." 

Never saw myself as the type to settle either, love, he mused to himself, smirking at the thought as well as gulping down his anxiety over asking her. "You never know. That lass is full of surprises." 

"Ain't that the truth," She scoffed. "I never know what's going to come out of her mouth let alone what her plans are." 

The couple chuckled in agreement, each wondering what Teeter and Soap were up to since they had been in England. Actually, no I don't want to know what they've been up to, she scorned to herself. "I just hope she knows she has to wear a dress." 

"She said she already bought one when we were on the plane. She wants to go with me to get mine altered." 

"Great, so that means I'm babysitting Johnny." 

"Better get used to babysitting, babe."

"I won't mind babysitting my own children, but Johnny?" He scoffed. "I'd rather watch triplets." 

"Quit pouting," She giggled, her eyebrow arching as she knew she was getting under his skin. "You know you love Johnny and spending time with your best friend." 

"There's only so much I can take. You don't know what all I've had to experience with that bloke." 

"I don't want to know," She giggled. "Considering how close you two are, I wouldn't be surprised if I was just a cover-up." 

He knew she was teasing him, "I can assure you, you're not a cover-up. That's the last thing I'd consider you to be." 

"I know, Simon. But that doesn't get you out of babysitting him." 

"That much is clear," His leg began to bounce in his chair, the ring feeling like it was burning a hole in his pocket as the moments of asking her began getting closer and closer. Don't fuck it up, Simon. You only have one shot. "You remember the bridge we went to on your birthday?" 

"How can I forget?" 

"The host told me that they were doing a waterworks show tonight if you wanted to go and watch?"

"I'd love to." 

*

Her arm was laced around his, leaning into him every time an ache shot from the arch of her foot up to her hip with every occasional step. Her feet were throbbing, but she wasn't about to ruin her last night in Manchester with complaints. After all, Simon had gone out of his way many times to tend to her in every aching need. 

However, the soreness in her feet and ankles didn't go unnoticed as Simon was extraordinarily observant for whenever it came to body language. I'll take care of that when we get home.

Once at the bridge, Simon stood behind her, the night surrounding them in a comfortable glow, finding the comfort of the darkness he once embraced to be to his advantage as it concealed the flush in his cheeks when the moments went by. "Are you comfortable, love?" He whispered as he stood behind her, his arms caging her between them as he smirked at how she immediately began to look for the family of ducks they saw on her birthday, wondering where they were. 

"Yeah," She sighed, shifting her weight frequently to rid the tension in her feet. "I think I wore the wrong shoes." 

He looked down, seeing how her ankles were swelled, nearly suffocating themselves within the confines of the straps on her favorite sandals, wincing to himself as he couldn't imagine how bad her feet were hurting. I have to ask her soon; I don't want her to be aching like this. But he also realized that it was the perfect excuse that she wouldn't expect for him to get on one knee as he recalled he was the one who buckled her sandals for her that morning. Perfect. "You should take flats to the ball." 

"Please, I want to show up looking decent," She giggled. "But I'll also take some with me because I know my feet will be hurting." 

"I know you'll only go because there's free food," He poked, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. "That's why I'm going."

"Is it really?" She giggled. 

"Part of it. The other to show you off." 

"Mhm, you won't have much to show off-"

"There you go again." 

"Can't help it." 

"We'll work on it." 

"What time was it supposed to start again?" 

"Hormones got you losing your memory, love?" He poked. "I just told you on the walk over here." 

"A lot happened between point A and point B, babe." 

He breathed a chuckle, "Eight. Just five more minutes." 

"Where is everybody?" 

"At the main pool, probably. They all gather there when the best place to watch is from here," He whispered, closing his eyes briefly as his nerves began to get the better of him. "It's not like Vegas, but it's close. Just less people and not as big." 

She hummed, her eyes immediately finding the ducks she had seen on her birthday resting at the bank, shifting her weight to lean over the banister to look at them, the yellow ducklings making her heart swell. They're all together. 

Simon took advantage of how distracted she was with the ducks, smirking at how she hadn't recognized the song that was playing to start the planned show. 

He knew she'd eventually recognize the song. 

The moments got closer and closer, the lights in the water turning to a mixture of blue and purple as the song continued to play. She furrowed her brows as she slowly started to recognize the tune of the song. Is this an instrumental version of Lady May? She thought. There's no way?

She watched, slowly realizing that, in fact, it was an instrumental version of Tyler Childers' Lady May. It went well with the show, a beautiful tune mixed with the intricate designs the water made with each gesture. "I didn't know Tyler Childers songs were popular here," She giggle. "Isn't that what it is?" 

"I don't know," Simon shrugged from behind her, a grin plastered on his face. "I don't listen to him, so you're asking the wrong person." He chuckled. 

"Those ducks don't like it," She giggled, referring to the constant disturbance of the water. "They're looking around like they're being evicted." 

"They're used to it, love. They do this all the time." 

"If you say so," She replied, wincing slightly as another ache shot through her leg, rolling her ankle in a desperate attempt to relieve the pain. "Is there a bench somewhere? I need to loosen these straps." 

"I got it, love." He replied, hastily kneeling to one knee to loosen the buckles on her sandals, making it seem like that's all he was doing. Never in a million years would he see himself doing this - doing the ultimate gesture of willing vulnerability, but to announce the ultimate pledge of giving himself to her - to vow for her to have him as her own. He loosened the buckles on her sandals, feeling her sigh in relief at his gestures. How oblivious you are for my only advantage, love, he sighed to himself. 

His hand grazed against her smooth leg while he presented the box containing the ring in his other hand, presenting it to her for when she decided to turn around to wonder what he was doing and why she didn't feel the safety of his chest against her back. "Oh, wow!" She gasped at the tall blast of water once the song was nearing its end. "Simon, look at this." She began to say, her head turning to look over her shoulder, the feeling of his hand on her leg bringing her to the realization that she needed to turn around. 

Her right hand immediately went to her mouth, tears beginning to brink in her eyes. I never thought I'd be good enough for someone to want to spend the rest of their life with me. She couldn't speak, even though she had a million words to say and more tears to fall in their place. "Kiera, I meant everything I said when I told you that I wanted to give up everything in my world just to be a part of yours. Will you marry me?" 

She dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck, hiding her face in his shoulder and staining his shirt with her tears before she grasped his face in her hands, kissing him like it was the last time. "And I mean it when I'm telling you yes." 

His right arm snaked around her waist, tenderly assisting her to her feet while he stood, letting her hands continue to grasp his face, unable to help himself as he smiled into the kiss. "I love you, sweetheart." 

She pulled back to look at him after wiping away her tears, "I love you too, Simon." 

She didn't get to see the ring fully until he put it on her finger, sealing his promise with a kiss to her knuckles, knowing that the ring itself didn't mean anything more than a promise of his commitment, having the closure that Simon was her soulmate - the father to her children - and soon-to-be her husband. He could've proposed with baling twine and I still would've said yes. "It's gorgeous, Simon." She smiled, holding her hand out to look at it on her finger. 

"It's been burning a hole in my pocket since I got it," He chuckled. "I wanted to ask the day I got it, but I wanted to make it special." 

"It's more than special, Simon," She smiled, rewarding him with another kiss. "You got it when you and my mom went to town, didn't you?" 

"My secret, love." 

*

Today, 8:20 PM

Simon: attachment: 1 image (a photo of Kiera smiling at the camera with Simon's hand holding hers, the ring dazzling in the night lights with the blue and purple lighting from the water show being the backdrop - a genuine sparkle in her eyes and smile - the same sparkle that Simon fell in love with)

Eva: It looks so good on her! I can't wait to see you two! We'll celebrate with dinner when you get back! I love you two to the stars!

[the-firebird69]

They are changing their tune in the Midwest and they're trying to figure out who we are and they're trying to locate us identifies and verify and try and capture and they're looking at people's bodies now in the process of looking around and looking at people's parties they notice they can recognize Trump and Max and differentiate so they're going after Trump just like he goes after them and it's what really is happening not really it's happening now because of what Trump did and in a big scale they're keeping an eye out and they're doing the studies and they know who the max are and they bring one in every room and they have information that matches it's very fast and it happened because of our son being brave and posting the progress. And there are a lot of comments all over the world they can't believe he's becoming big and he's actually naturally large and they're saying it too he's not eating that much and he's pooping a lot and he's getting big and it is the medicine and they're finding out who has the test and it is Trump and they're going after their people with murderous intent and they need tests of the blood and so forth and he is getting the s*** kicked out of him all over the world he is not doing well the stashes and cashews were already sought and now they found this information with him the test results the DNA and the DNA tests and more than going after him for a lot more and they're going to probably delete the stashes and caches overseas to 30% by tomorrow no it's fine tonight and the robots around 80% of the process will be breached including at the cities and an average of 30% of the robots will be removed but really there's about five huge stashes of them and around 70 or 80% will be removed from half of them that's most of the 30% and they're going after those the cities and they're shutting them down they have to see what these big balls are yeah they're going to check and they're checking elsewhere and right now so very mean world this idiot next door going to Sun wrapped up in his business and the idiot next door got torn to pieces and doesn't get it and won't back off so we continue.

-and we are going forth with a lot of their ideas and our mother and father and a lot of hours and a lot of them are the same ideas they have a few good ones we do too. We are increasing production of beer no we are not doing that on purpose we will in certain areas but not now we are starting to go over what they're doing more often is true. We have a lot of factories we're opening and we are at 3800% the other day now we're moving up to probably 4000% and it includes a lot of motorcycle factories and automobile factories and truck factories and trailer factories and equipment that moves materials and bundles them and to store them and more and storage facilities are opening all over the world it is becoming a huge huge movement and this economy is going to tear Trump a new one he's going to try and stop things and get ripped out of reality very soon he is a relic now and he's stuck there for some reason

-there are several other things happening and we're going to report them now there are massive attacks planned tonight on the pseudo empire and they are in the way of our son getting stuff unless they're in charge he won't get anything and yeah the pendulum is swinging back the other way and unless the more I can charge they you won't get anything and that's what you keep doing and it's not healthy your business at all you're more or less getting killed and fairly soon all of you will be dead from this asinine routine there's not much we can do about it you insist on doing it along with this week and it's very real we are going to start enacting a program to take people out who are being very destructive to others and we are going to make sure that they don't come back and it's permanent you will not be getting a second chance at this and you will definitely feel bad about what you've been doing but you're going to be removed from this area and it is happening to a lot of people and it's happening now we hate to say it but why are you people damned annoying and it's getting worse and for real people are not putting up with you anymore and you're going away in great numbers and we call it the attrition number and that's what it is and it's increased to 0.08% that is a very big number and a lot of you leave all day long? Been putting up with you it's an extremely hard assignment if it's a hard thing to do you're very difficult people you swear like you green a lot and people suffering you grin you make fun of people you push them around you boss them around they've been doing dumb things that supposedly will do nothing and for years you're doing that to him now you're starting to realize you were wrong but you don't think you're wrong in a certain way and we can hear it too and we hear Brad saying dumb s*** and he's going to get his ass handed to him a lot of you have lost your faculty and you lost your minds and you were killing Max and they killed you back and they try to direct you it off and you are trying to direct to us and you seem to be going after a son and that's a weak shift and your weak people what we're doing about it is killing you permanently and getting it killed and we have a full program going on that now tonight you're lending a hand in the rings and you are going out there and you are going to try and attack the pseudo empire and they will attack you we do need this desperately we needed it for a whole year it was mostly stagnated and you were saying you're going out there and you're really weren't his damned annoying and it's still annoying but you're actually going out there and you're going out there rather soon it's going to be a heck of a day and night too we are watching our son trying to get ready for dinner and he's thinking about what to make and it's kind of difficult potatoes don't go well with spaghetti or Chinese food so that's what's happening here and the idiot is back good Lord what a mess a guy is a disaster and it's starting to show but tonight 20 households are planted to go out and they're amazing in Miami-Dade a little to the north and a little to the South and a great deal to the west of Miami Dade and it is a huge Force they gathered in several other areas and they're actually growing and becoming very big people are worried about it they should be on the forces far too large to be here they should not be here they are outlawed as it goes for giant groups to be assembling and they were told not to get their proceeding we are part of the groups that were telling them not to and we have a right to say it and you don't really have very many rights because of what you've been doing this is going to happen now tonight is going to be a huge battle and it is going to be Non-Stop we do anticipate it being a massive massive war so that's what's happening we're going to tell you we cannot stand you but you know that more shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zeus

We have a lot of stuff to talk about but we need to talk about his dinner he's trying to think of what to do with a potato because he's already making spaghetti and I know they go together in some cases but not really well with red sauce you had a lot of tomatoes and doesn't need to use the red sauce but you can use spaghetti with chicken and some potato maybe half of it and in pieces it goes in the spaghetti with olive oil sauce garlic and some other things a little lemon and it tastes pretty good there's a certain dish and it's not American and it is pretty good if you make it right and you can look it up and he's going to do that so more later

Hera

[major-mads]

Chapter 6: One Helluva Party

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: as always, thanks for being patient! please comment or reblog and tell us what you think!! thanks for reading!! <3

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 9.6k

September 8th, 1943: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 2200 HRS

Ruth’s boots thudded against the cement floor of the girls’ hut as she paced up and down the center aisle. The blonde held a slip of paper, pouring over the list on it endlessly.

“Streamers, check. Distracting John duty, check. Cha-”

“Ruth,” Hope groaned. “Go to bed. You’ve looked over that list a million times.”

Her steps halted and she turned to her friend with a sigh. “I just want his party to be perfect.”

“I know you do, but you have nothing to worry about. Tatty and Helen are getting everything taken care of until we can get up there tomorrow. Please go to sleep, Rue.”  Hope rolled over on her small cot, turning away from her pacing friend.

“Fine,” Ruth relented, tossing the list onto her nightstand before sliding beneath her covers. She rolled over to face Hope, her lips pursed in thought. “Do you think-”

“Go to sleep.”

Her mind wouldn’t shut off as she continued to worry about the party. “But what-”

“Ruth! Just shut up and sleep.” Hope didn’t even open her eyes to scold her this time, and she pulled the covers up over her head. 

“Okay,” she sighed quietly, turning onto her back, her mind still racing over all the events for the following day. She only hoped that everything would go according to plan. 

The Next Day: Sep. 9th: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich: 1500 HRS: 3 PM

The previous night was filled with restless sleep for Ruth, and her nervousness battled excitement in her chest when Frank discreetly pulled up behind the Red Cross hut. 

“I’m not your personal chauffeur, you know,” he sassed, turning off the engine. “I don’t like wasting my day passes to take you two up here.”

Hope rolled her eyes as she got out of the car. “But you still do it each time we ask, don’t you?”

Frank mumbled some choice words under his breath, helping the girls unload their bags from the trunk of the car. “I only do this so I know you get here safely. With your navigation skills and Ruth’s nerves, who the hell knows where you’d end up.” 

Hope just glared at him with narrowed eyes. She wasn't that bad of a navigator but they missed one turn once and he’d given her hell for it ever since. 

Helen and Tatty hurried down the steps to greet them, both quickly embracing the girls. The four had become good friends over their multiple visits to Thorpe Abbotts and their reunions always resulted in a big hug. 

“You two ready for tonight?” Tatty asked, hurrying Ruth and Hope inside.

“You betcha, Ruth’s been driving me up the wall planning the damn thing. I’ve been waiting for her to have a nervous breakdown over it.” Hope smiled fondly at Ruth who just continued to chew her lip anxiously.

The blonde sighed. “I just want everything to be perfect…it has to be.”

“And it will be Ruth,” Helen placed an arm around Ruth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, everything is in hand.” 

“The boys are on a mission and won’t be back until around four this afternoon. I’ve got Cleven and Armstrong on diversion duty to keep John as far away from the Officers’ Club as possible,” Tatty informed them, bundling a box of bunting underneath her arm. “We’ve got our work cut out ladies, but I think we can pull this off.” 

The first order of business was to get the decorations up. 

The women carefully draped colorful streamers from every surface possible, and by the time they were through, the bland dance hall and bar were vibrant with color. Ruth removed the wrinkled list from her pocket, checking off the “decorate club” box from her to-do’s.

“Alright. What do we have left?” Tatty asked, walking over to Ruth.

The nurse glanced down at her list with a hum, then suddenly her eyes widened and she gasped, throwing a hand over her mouth. “The banner! I can’t believe I forgot! It’s in the car, I’ll be right back.”

She left the club in a tizzy, the door closing behind her with a slam. Hope, Tatty, and Helen all shared a worried glance as the loud sound echoed through the hall.

“You’re right, Hope. She’s too wound up about this,” Helen said as she picked up the box of leftover decorations.

A sigh left Hope’s lips. “She wants John to have the best birthday possible. He means so much to her.”

“I think the feeling’s mutual,” Tatty chuckled, thinking back to when the pair rumbled up to her hut the week before. “I’ve never seen John wrapped around a woman’s finger before, but Ruth’s done it. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Smiling softly, Hope twisted the engagement ring around her finger and thought about how much their lives changed in such a short time. “Yep. She’s something else, alright.” 

“And I’ve never seen Gale as happy, either,” Helen added with a smirk.

Hope ducked her head blushing as she glanced down at the engagement ring adorning her finger, “I know things may seem rushed, but when you know, you know. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.” 

Tatty groaned in the background about how sickeningly in love they were, causing the two girls to laugh. 

“Well, I’m very happy for you, Hope, and looking at that ring, your man has taste.” 

Hope chuckled, “Actually…” 

The back door swung open, and Ruth rushed in holding a folded-up sheet. The woman’s curls were disheveled and her cheeks were bright red as she leaned against the door, out of breath. “They-,” she panted, her chest heaving. “They’re back.”

“Rue, you alright?” Hope asked, concern etching her face. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“Because I was getting out of the car and then I saw John on a truck,  so I dove back into the back seat and wait-,” she held up a hand to them, pausing to breathe heavily. “Waited for him to go into a building and then I bolted.”

Tatty’s eyes flicked down to her watch quickly. “They’re right on time, then. It’s already 16:30.”

“What?!” Ruth blurted as a wave of panic coursed through her. “Everyone will be here in an hour and we still haven’t gotten the banner up!”

Hope put a hand on her shoulder. “Rue.”

“And I still need to get-”

“Ruth!”

Finally, her worry-filled sky-blue eyes snapped to her friend’s. “What?”

“You need to calm down,” Hope said gently but firmly. “Everything looks perfect. Johnny’s going to love it.”

Just as the night before, Ruth’s mind refused to turn it down a notch, and she sighed. “We still need to hang the happy birthday banner, Hope.”

“We’ll do that and then we’re done, alright?” Hope asked, squeezing her shoulder comfortably before looking at the two other women. “You two good to hang up the banner? I’ve got to get her all dolled up.”

Ruth opened her mouth to object but Hope shot her a glare, sending the blonde’s gaze to the floor. She couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety that gnawed at her insides. She knew she was being irrational, but the pressure to make everything flawless was overwhelming. 

Helen nodded with a small smile, taking the banner from Ruth. “That sounds like a plan. You two go get ready in our hut! We’ll see you in a bit!”

The dark-haired nurse practically dragged Ruth from the officer’s club to the Red Cross hut where they quickly got ready. Hope helped re-curl the falling waves in her best friend’s golden hair, and from the way she chewed on her bottom lip, Hope knew she was thinking about her Major.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” she asked quietly.

“Rue, you could have one measly streamer hanging from the ceiling and he’d love it just the same. He’s gonna be more excited to see you than anything.”

“I hope so.”

Hope smiled at Ruth reassuringly in the mirror, “I know so.”

John groaned, stepping out of the interrogation hut. He hated interrogation. As if it wasn’t bad enough experiencing everything the first time, you then had to relive it. He stretched his aching arms above his head, all he wanted was a shower and a drink. 

It was his birthday after all.

Gale and Hugh soon appeared from the hut after him, also stretched out their aching muscles, and the three made their way across to the shower block.

“You got any plans for tonight, Bucky?” Hugh asked, a smirk plastered across his face and Gale elbowed him warningly. He couldn’t have Hugh giving the game away, not after all Ruth’s hard work.

“I don’t know, Sparky. I was just going to shower and then head over to the club for a drink. You boys in?” 

Gale and Hugh glanced at each other, a silent question passing between the pilots. 

“Sure thing, Bucky,” Gale responded first, throwing his arm over his friend's shoulder, “Can’t have you celebrating alone now, can I?”

“Good, because I plan for this to be a night we remember,” he thought for a moment, rubbing his hand over his mustache, “Or more like a night we don’t remember. But don’t worry, I won’t go too off the rails,” He cackled, strolling ahead of them. 

Hugh turned to Gale, his eyes wide as he hissed, “How the hell are we supposed to keep him out of the club?” 

Gale shrugged his shoulders, seemingly very calm about the whole situation, “We’ll find a way.” 

“Hey,” Bucky called out, stopping with his hands on his hips as he waited for them to catch up. 

The pair shared a wary glance, panicking at the possibility of his overhearing them.

Ruth would kill them if he found out.

They reached him, and John pursed his lips in thought, “You got a letter from Hope today or yesterday?”

Buck and Hugh nearly sighed in relief at the question. The cat wasn’t out of the bag yet!

“Yeah,” Gale replied, “Got one yesterday. Why?”

Johnny nodded once, his gaze falling to the dirt beneath their feet. “Nothing.”

Hugh cocked an eyebrow at the man’s sudden change in demeanor. “What is it?”

“I guess I thought Ruth would’ve sent me a letter for my birthday, that’s all,” he shrugged.

Trying to keep a sly grin off his face, Buck threw an arm over his shoulder and got the trio moving toward the shower block again. “The night is still young, Bucky. There’s still time for a letter to get here.”

“Yeah, you never know,” Hugh added with a smirk, ignoring the sharp glare Buck gave him as he walked past the duo. He then checked his watch. 

17:00…One hour til’ showtime.

17:15 HRS: 5:15 PM

Hope and Ruth took a shortcut behind the buildings on their way back to the Officers' Club to stay out of sight. Ruth’s hair was once again curled to perfection, and she wore victory red lipstick that Hope let her borrow. 

She wasn’t one for bold statements, but this night, she wanted to do something special. 

When they snuck into the club through the back door, Ruth’s eyes widened in awe at the final decorations Helen and Tatty finished. String lights hung below the streamers above the tables, giving the room a warm, soft glow, and the “Happy Birthday John” banner hung high at the front of the stage. 

“This is amazing!” She squealed, her heart fluttering with excitement as she pulled Helen and Tatty into a tight embrace. “Thank y’all so much. I’m sorry I lost my head earlier.”

The two women returned the hug and laughed quietly, sharing a knowing gaze with Hope over her shoulder. If there was one thing Hope Armstrong knew about Ruth Morgan, it was that she cared about those around her so much. It was what made her a good teacher, a good nurse, a good friend…a good person. This was often the underlying cause of the worry that ate away at her.

“We have a surprise for you,” Tatty said, gesturing over to the bar. 

Ruth’s eyes drifted over to the area to find a small box on the counter. She and Hope made their way over and opened it, each grinning from ear to ear at the small chocolate cake inside with cursive icing on the top.

“Happy Birthday Bucky,” Ruth read aloud before turning back to them. “How did you two get this?”

Helen shrugged her shoulders. “I might have to go on a date with the cook, but it’s worth it.”

The group broke out into chuckles and Tatty went behind the bar, grabbing four glasses and pouring them each a shot of whiskey. “I say this is a cause for celebration.”

Helen and Tatty raised their glasses in a toast. “To John,” they chorused, the clinking of their glasses filling the air.

“To John,” Hope and Ruth grinned, throwing back their shots.

Hope was unphased, but Ruth’s eyes watered slightly as the fiery liquid burned down her throat, leaving a warm trail in its wake. She’d grown more accustomed to the taste of alcohol since she started going out more, and she found that it wasn’t as bad as she once thought. 

As the minutes ticked by, airmen started to trickle into the hall, and with each one, Ruth’s nervousness swirled again in her stomach. Sensing her discomfort, Tatty poured her another shot with a wink, “It’ll help.”

A smirk formed on Hope’s face watching the blonde throw back the shot. Ruth was not good at holding her liquor, and the one time Hope had seen her overdo it in Berkshire, she had to almost carry her back to their hut at the end of the night.

Before long, the alcohol warmed Ruth from the inside out and melted away her worry, leaving behind a tingling feeling that made her feel lighter than air. 

“It’s almost time!” she squealed loudly to Hope who sat beside her at their table.

Hope chuckled under her breath, noting the way she’d become more talkative and bubbly, even starting a few conversations with the men around them.

It was going to be a good night.

“Hey Buck, what was this ‘way’ you have planned to keep Johnny-boy from the club? Because now might be a good time to know about it,” Hugh hissed, yanking his underwear onto his still-wet body as he continued to fight his clothes on in his haste. 

“I didn’t say I had anything planned. I said ‘we’ would find a way, so if you’ve got any ideas, Charlie, now would be a really good time to share them,” Gale spoke in a hushed whisper, gazing back down the hut to check the water was still flowing in Bucky’s cubicle. 

Hugh threw his hands in the air, “Well I don’t know, do I? I think half the time John just wants to punch me in the face.” 

Gale hummed, “Maybe that’s what we should do then.” 

Hugh glared at him through the hole of his shirt, pulling it violently over his head before he responded, “Gee, thanks Gale, maybe I should tell my sister that her future husband is a brute and he got me duffed up.”

“I think Hope would be inclined to agree with me…”

“What’s Hope agreeing to now? She already agreed to marry you, Buck, what more can she agree to?” John asked, wandering up to them with just his towel draped precariously around his waist. 

“Bucky!” Both men called out, their voices a little higher than they would have liked. John cocked an eyebrow at them and Gale stared wide-eyed at Hugh, waiting for their next move.

“So Bucky, we’ve got a nice birthday treat for you planned…” Hugh began, hoping that Gale wasn’t about to tackle him to the ground. “We thought it would be nice to head back to the hut, crack open a bottle of my old Vat 69, and make a night of it. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you don’t know me very well at all, My Dear Sparky,” John rested his hand on Hugh’s shoulder, and within a split second Hugh folded.

“It was Gale’s idea.” 

Gale glared harshly at Hugh before meeting John’s gaze with a simple nod.

John sighed, “Buck, I get that you’re not a big drinker, and that’s fine, why don’t you go write a letter to Hope or something while Sparky and I head down to the club to have ourselves some fun?” 

John wasn’t sure why he ribbed Gale about writing letters to Hope. He wrote just as many letters to Ruth, if not more. With Gale though, it was the time he spent pouring over the letter, changing little bits, and then rewriting it until it was perfect. He’d sit in the corner for hours, his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth as his pen flowed effortlessly across the page. 

Gale sighed, “Okay, we’ll head down to the club at 18:00, okay? Let’s go back to the hut first so we can drop this back. Maybe I’ll have some time to finish my letter to Hope too, and then we can go. Sound good?” Gale really hoped this sounded like a fair deal because if not, he was all out of options.

John thought for a moment before nodding, “You know, you drive a hard bargain, Buck. Good thing I like you.” 

18:00 HRS: 6 PM

Six o’clock rolled around quickly, and Gale found himself sighing with relief as the trio walked towards the Officers’ Club. They’d managed to keep the secret and everything had gone to plan. He’d have to have a word with Hope regarding no surprises at their wedding…his heart couldn’t take the suspense. 

John was out in front with Hugh, bickering again about the Cardinals and the Yankees, an argument that Gale had heard so often he managed to tune the whole thing out now. 

As they neared the club, Gale took the lead, winking at Hugh as he hurried passed to reach the door first. If John noticed anything suspicious, he hadn’t let on, but from the way he’d been watching Gale’s every move across the nissen hut earlier, he definitely knew something was up.

“Hey Buck, what are you in such a hurry for, they’re not gonna run out of ginger beer,” John called out, cackling loudly at his T-total friend. Gale ignored the comment. He’d grown used to them over the years. 

“Very funny, Bucky. I thought you’d be the one in a rush to get here. You’re the one who wanted a drink, after all,” Gale retorted, appreciating Hugh’s laughter.

“You two are like an old married couple! Forget Hope and Ruth. It’s you two that sound like you live together,” Hugh ducked as John went to smack the back of his head, but he was unable to avoid Gale’s foot that he’d stuck out to the side and Hugh stumbled over it, recovering himself quickly.

“Good trip there, Sparky,” John chortled, and Gale just smirked cheekily. 

Hugh brushed down the front of his uniform, despite it never actually touching the ground. “You’re lucky you’re marrying my sister, Cleven.” 

As they reached the door to the club, it became obvious how unusually quiet it was. Normally by this time the band had struck up a familiar tune or there was loud laughter from inside. The silence was rather eerie, and John found himself growing uneasy. 

What exactly was going on? 

Gale’s hand reached out to the door, swinging it back on its hinges and standing aside. “Happy birthday, Bucky.” 

John glanced up at his friend before looking back inside the club. Everything in the small entrance looked normal, but the silence and the suspense only grew. 

Why was Gale being so cryptic?

Sparing his best friend one last wary look, Johnny stepped through the doors.

“Surprise!”

“What?!” A wide smile broke out on the Major’s face, his eyes widening as he took in the hall…the lights, the decorations, his smiling friends. 

‘Happy Birthday John,’ the banner read.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all the thoughts in his mind flew out the window when a familiar blonde rushed towards him, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Happy birthday!” Ruth giggled, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. Surprised at her sudden forwardness, he froze for a moment before returning it, sliding his hands around her waist.

The sound of wolf whistles echoed around the club while Hope caught Gale’s gaze from behind the pair. A lazy grin pulled at the corner of his lips at the sight of his fiancée, and he sent her a wink as she made her way over to him.

When Ruth and the birthday boy finally pulled away, he peered down at her with a smile so filled with joy that his eyes were almost squinted shut. Her cheeks flushed rosy, but not from embarrassment. John saw the way her eyes were in a daze but still sparkled up at him like the night sky.

He knew that look.

“Someone’s had a few drinks, huh?” he grinned.

Looking over Ruth’s shoulder, his eyes met Hope’s and he tilted her head towards the woman in his arms with an amused brow. She simply shrugged, throwing a hand over her mouth when a laugh escaped her lips at the bright red lipstick stains that smeared on his mouth, some even up in his mustache.

“Happy birthday, hotshot,” Ruth whispered as she kissed his cheek.

Another lipstick stain.

John’s grip loosened on her waist, but Ruth’s hands slid around his torso, keeping herself tight against him. Chuckling under his breath, he turned them toward Gale and Hugh. “So this is why you two were acting weird.” 

Buck saw the same lipstick stains on his face, and unlike his fiancée, made no effort to conceal his laugh. “You got a little something all over your face there, Johnny boy.”

He quickly did his best to wipe away the red marks, but only smudged them against his skin, leaving splotches of pink on his chin and cheek. “I thought you were up to something, I just didn’t know what.”

“Well, your girl, here, was the mastermind behind this whole thing,” Buck grinned, nodding towards Ruth. “Been planning it for weeks.”

John’s eyes narrowed playfully as he grinned down at her. “You sneaky woman.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t somehow feel her worrying from here in Thorpe Abbotts,” Hope said from under Gale’s arm. “She damn near drove me and Frank crazy.”

“Oh, you’re full of it!” Ruth cried, her eyes widening dramatically as she shot Hope a wide-mouthed smile. “Don’t even get me started on you stressing about wedding planning!” 

Above the women’s heads, Gale and John shared an amused glance, neither having seen them go at it before.

“Who wouldn’t be stressed about their wedding?”

“Well, I’m sorry for wanting Major Hot Stuff here to have the best birthday possible,” Ruth said plainly, patting John’s chest.

John was thankful he hadn’t gotten a drink yet because it surely would’ve spewed from his lips all over Buck.  “Major Hot Stuff?” he choked out as he attempted to compose himself, a toothless grin tugging at his lips. “Just how much did you drink, doll?”

“Not much,” Ruth replied innocently and stepped impossibly closer to him before tripping into John’s side, his hands instantly coming up to support her. She giggled happily and John couldn’t help the amused smile that spread across his face. 

“She may have had a little too much for her,” Hope interjected, “To calm the nerves, you see.” Hope found the whole thing rather amusing in all honesty. Ruth had been so uptight ever since she’d started the party planning that it was nice to see her relaxing again. 

Gale smiled fondly, watching as John guided Ruth to a table, settling her down in the corner. 

“Shall we?” He offered Hope her arm and she gladly accepted, letting her fiancée lead her to the table where she seated herself between Gale and Hugh, opposite Ruth and John. 

The rest of the men soon followed suit, all crowding around the table to find a seat. Harry Crosby perched next to Hugh, greeting Hope as he took his seat. DeMarco sat on the other side of Gale, and Meatball found his way to nestle his head into Hope’s lap. 

“Hey Meatball, who's a good boy,” Hope scratched behind the dog's ear and he flopped against her, whining and grunting as she hit the right spot. Gale watched the interaction adoringly. 

How did he manage to find a girl so perfect? 

“So Buck, tell me about this wedding you’re planning then. First I heard about it was from Croz this morning,” DeMarco asked, leaning across so he could eye Gale and Hope suspiciously. 

Harry looked sheepishly at Hope but she just smiled, he’d been in the infirmary when she’d dropped off supplies earlier and he’d noticed the ring. 

“Couldn’t keep one secret, could ya, Croz,” Hugh jested, grabbing Harry and ruffling his hair affectionately. Harry protested, smacking Hugh’s hands away and the pair began to squabble like children. 

“Yep, it’s official. I popped the question and she said yes,” Gale replied, wrapping his arm around Hope’s shoulder, “She’s the only one for me.”

He smiled down at Hope and she reached up, pressing her lips to his, followed by a few low whistles and cheers from their fellow crew members, while Hugh merely made gagging noises. 

“I’m happy for you, Buck. I really am,” John raised his glass, nodding towards his friend. “I would’ve paid to see this one’s reaction,” he chuckled, motioning to Ruth who was grinning beside him, tucked under his arm. She smiled fondly, thinking back on the day she found out her best friend was engaged to one of the loveliest men she’d ever met.

Hope perched on the edge of the bed, her sore leg giving her some grief. She’d been on her feet most of the day, sorting things out around the base and she was paying for it now. Blood seeped through the fresh bandages and she winced, peeling the fabric away from the wound. 

“I told you not to do too much,” Ruth scolded, sitting down on her bed opposite Hope, “But you never listen.” 

Hope just glared at her. Ruth was right, but she wasn’t about to admit that. 

“What would Gale say if he saw you hurrying all over base today? You know he’d be saying the same thing as me, Hope. We care about you, so please just take it easy,” Ruth pleaded, reaching over to squeeze her friend's shoulder. Her eyes trailed down to the wound on Hope’s thigh and she noticed the gold ring that adorned her finger. 

“WHAT IS THAT?” She screeched a little too loudly, grabbing Hope’s left hand and holding it up to her face. “THAT’S A RING! A ENGAGEMENT RING!” 

Hope chuckled at her friend's enthusiasm, pulling her hand back and admiring the ring herself, “Gale popped the question in the infirmary while he was patching me up yesterday, and I said yes.” 

Ruth looked at her dumbfounded before she smacked Hope’s arm, “WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?” 

“There was a lot going on yesterday, it sort of slipped my mind,” Hope admitted, feeling guilty that she hadn’t told her best friend. 

“Slipped your mind? You mean to tell me that your engagement just ‘slipped your mind?' Hope Armstrong, I am your best friend and you didn’t tell me first!” Ruth looked utterly betrayed as Hope moved to sit beside her.

“I’m so sorry, Rue, I should have told you. Everything was just so emotional yesterday and it all happened so quickly. Then we had to leave the base and things have been just as crazy here, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

“It’s okay. At least I knew before Johnny,” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Just wait ‘til he finds out!”

Hope cringed slightly and Ruth’s smile faltered. “I did know before John, right?”

“Well…”

“That sneaky piece of shit!”

The guilt that swirled within Hope’s stomach dissipated as Ruth’s curse echoed through the hut. She didn’t swear much, so when she did on occasion, Hope could never keep a smile from her lips. “I don’t think he wanted to spoil the surprise.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruth playfully frowned, waving her hand in the air. “He’s a doggone traitor.”

But the frown didn’t last long and quickly changed into a wide smile as she threw herself onto Hope, trying to avoid her injured leg, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m so happy for you, Hope. Gale is a great guy, and I know you two are going to have a long and happy life together.”

Hope smiled, “Thanks Rue, it means a lot.”

“I guess my question now is…” Ruth took a deep breath, “Can I be your maid of honor?” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Hope smiled, thinking back to the conversation she had with Ruth after her engagement. There was no way on Earth she could walk down the aisle without Ruth by her side, and Hugh of course. She glanced at her brother who was trying to loudly explain something irrelevant to Jack across the table. 

The room was buzzing with life, laughter, and cheers of excitement filled the room as Tatty brought over the chocolate cake and laid it before John, a few candles stuck into the icing.

Everyone around the table erupted into a chorus…

“Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Bucky,

Happy birthday to you!”

Hoots, hollers, and laughter followed as John leaned forward with a beaming smile, extinguishing the candles in one breath. He fell back into his chair, laughing wildly. Ruth snuggled back in under his arm and he pulled her close, pressing his lips to her hairline.

“You’re too good to me, slugger,” he murmured against her skin. 

Ruth looked delightedly back at him, “You deserve it. Happy birthday.” 

He craned his neck to look down at her, trying to engrain the moment into his mind before he leaned in and captured her lips in his. It was short and sweet but conveyed all the gratitude and affection John felt for the nurse. 

Although he may not have said it out loud, she meant everything to him. 

Ruth glanced over at Hope as she pushed her chair away from the table, brushing the creases from her dress. Gale’s hand that had been resting on her thigh moved quickly, clutching her hand.

“Where are you going?” Gale glanced up at her, his long lashes casting shadows beneath his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Hope bent over, pressing her lips to his cheek, “I won’t be long.” 

Gale released her hand reluctantly, his eyes following her across the hall as she disappeared behind the band. He was confused about what she was up to, her sideways glances between the stage and back all evening gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach. 

John was laughing loudly at something Benny had said when her familiar voice came over the microphone. 

“Could I have everyone’s attention please,” Hope spoke softly but firmly into the microphone, causing everyone in the room to turn. “Thank you.” Hope looked a little nervous, her hands clasped in front of her. 

She wasn’t used to public speaking, having never really been a fan of big crowds ever since she went to a baseball game with Hugh. It was probably one of the main reasons why she made a good nurse, the one-on-one contact with another person was something that came so naturally to her. 

She cleared her throat, trying to avoid all the eyes that were suddenly on her and concentrate on the one pair of eyes that truly mattered to her. Gale’s. 

“Like me, you are all here to celebrate a certain Major’s birthday. I’m sure all of you have many stories you could tell about Bucky.” The room erupted into a small chorus to ‘to rights’ and ‘hell yeah we do’. 

“So what can I say about Major John Egan? I’ve only known him for two months and he sure does love to rock the boat. He’s quite the character,” a few mumbled agreements followed. 

“He’s a damn good pilot and a good friend. I couldn't think of anyone more suited for Ruth,” Hope pointed towards her friend. “I would also like to thank the very lovely Ruth Morgan for putting this whole evening together for us.” 

Several cheers erupted around the table, and for once, Ruth’s cheeks didn’t flush. She held her head high as John reached out and brushed her curls away, kissing her temple with a chuckle, obviously noticing the change from her usual behavior.

“Thank you again, doll,” he mumbled, a soft smile on his lips, but before Ruth could speak up, Hope began talking over the microphone once more. 

“So without further ado, this one’s for you, John,” Hope moved across the stage and placed the record down onto the gramophone. 

The disk turned for a few seconds until the smooth trumpet began to play, Hope tapped her foot along to the beat, waiting for her time to start. 

“Blue skies, smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see” 

Hope’s voice flowed effortlessly into the microphone, playing through the horn, filling the long hall with life. 

“Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on”

Hope’s eyes met Gale’s, as he beamed at her from the audience, a wide smile gracing his handsome face and his blue eyes sparkled in awe. She’d never felt so enamored in her life than she did at that moment under Gale’s gaze, and the lyrics flowed easily. 

“Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on”

Ruth and John swayed beside each other from their cozy spot at the table. His arm draped over her shoulder as he spoke quietly to her. 

“You’re an adorable drunk, you know that?”

Her high-pitched giggles filled the air around them as she beamed up at him. “I’m not drunk.”

“Maybe not yet, but you’re sure tipsy,” he chuckled, sipping his second pint of the night. “I’m starting to think I’m a bad influence.”

“You? Never! It’s not like you got blackout drunk and pulled a Narwhal tusk off-”

Before Ruth could finish her sentence, John’s hand quickly covered her mouth, his eyes widening in mock horror. “Aaaand that’s it for you, Ruthie. Speaking privileges revoked.” 

“Hey!” She protested into his palm, trying to pry his hand away.

“Are you ready to be nice, now? You can’t be mean to the birthday boy. It’s against the rules.”

Ruth rolled her eyes, her words muffled against his hand. “And who came up with these rules?”

“Yours truly.”

Just as she started to snark back at him, the song came to an end and the crowd burst into a round of applause as Hope made her way from the stage to Gale’s side. 

Eyeing her skeptically, Bucky slowly removed his hand from her mouth and tilted his face down towards her. “You gonna behave?”

Before she could stop herself, Ruth’s mouth spat the first thought that ran through her inebriated mind. “Only if you want me to.”

The blonde’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as soon as the words left her lips, and she threw a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. Johnny’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, amusement and disbelief painting his features as he peered down at her.

“That did not just come out of my mouth,” she blurted. “Please tell me I didn’t say that.”

Bucky’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter as he nodded slowly, teasing her. “Oh, you definitely did.”

Groaning, she buried her still reddening face into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’m never drinking again.”

John decided that he rather liked tipsy Ruth…but not as much as his darling, sober, Ruth. This Ruth was more carefree, the almost ever-present flicker of concern in her eyes gone as she simply enjoyed what happened around her. 

The woman’s heart was so big, and John knew that was why she felt everything so deeply…because she loved so deeply.

Hope settled back down beside Gale, and his arm instinctively wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into his side one more. 

“That was beautiful,” Gale mumbled, pressing his lips to her temple. 

Hope smiled up at him, “Thank you,” she chuckled, “Just wait until it’s your birthday, Major. I have a whole lot up my sleeve.”

Gale hummed in amusement, kissing her temple again, “I look forward to it.” 

“Hey, hey,” John butted in, snapping his fingers at them over the table. “You two keep that for your alone time. We’ve got a cake to eat, and I’m gonna hurl like Croz here if you keep talking like that.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face. “I’m never gonna live that down.”

Ruth remembered Hope telling her of the poor navigator’s airsickness, and she was relieved that her own bout of projectile vomiting stopped in the early stages of her training at Bowman Field. The rumble of John’s chest against her broke her from her thoughts. 

“But thank you, Hope. You almost sounded as good as me up there.”

“Well, that’s an insult,” Bill Veal scoffed, pulling up a chair to the table.

The table exploded in laughter and nods of agreement and Ruth nodded, snickering to herself as Johnny’s face screwed up in playful confusion. “I thought you liked my singing?”

“Oh, I do,” she smiled and patted his cheek gently. “But I never said you were Frank Sinatra, hon.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I’ll have to impress you with my dance moves.”

John stood to his feet, pulling Ruth with him by her hand. “See you, boys.”

He tugged her behind him to the dance floor where a few other couples were already dancing their hearts out to the upbeat tune of Glenn Miller’s ‘A String of Pearls.’ With a wide grin, John spun Ruth around the dance floor, watching her face light up as they got lost in the moment. With every spin, dip, and kiss, their laughter filled the room, and even though Ruth stumbled a few times, Bucky’s firm grip kept her steady, his smile never faltering.  

They became aware of the Armstrong siblings' presence on the dance floor when a few “sorry’s” filled the air, and John cackled as he watched Hugh spin his sister into other couples, earning a few cross glares.

“Good thing you don’t fly like you dance, Sparky,” Bucky called, “You’d take out the whole 8th Air Force with those skills!” 

Hugh spun around, ready to defend his honor, but Hope quickly swung him away from Ruth and John with a small smile.

A few more fast-paced songs passed until the tempo slowed and the couple began to sway gently back and forth. Their faces shone with the lightest shimmer of sweat as they breathlessly smiled at each other. Bridging the gap between them, Ruth pulled John down by his neck and pressed another kiss against his lips. She could taste whiskey and a hint of mint lingering from his signature chewing gum.

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” she panted softly.

A smirk made its way onto his reddened face. “Yeah,” John nodded before leading them through dancing couples to the back door.

The cool September night soothed the heat of their cheeks as they pushed through the entrance, the sounds of Glenn Miller muffling as the door closed behind them. 

Squeezing her hand once, Bucky pulled her away from the building. “I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”

19:30 HRS: 7:30 PM: Muggs' Hardstand

“Up here?” Ruth giggled, pointing at the tall wing above her head. “I can’t even reach the thing.”

Johnny’s lips curled into a grin as he widened his stance and got low, lacing his fingers together. “Come on, I’ll give you a boost.”

After staring at him with narrowed eyes for a few moments, Ruth sighed and lifted one foot into his hands, bracing herself against his shoulders. “You better not drop me, Major.”

“I won’t. You’re light as a feather, doll,” he laughed, raising his eyebrows. “If anything, you’d be the one to make yourself fall, Miss Klutz.”

Ruth smacked his shoulder playfully with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, shut up.” 

Counting to three, he easily hoisted her up to the wing and handed her the small brown parcel she’d placed on the ground. Ruth sat at the edge of the wing, her feet dangling below her as she fixed the twine bow tied around John’s gift. She couldn’t deny the pang of anxiety that ran through her at the sobering thought of actually giving him the present.

‘What if he doesn’t like it?’ she thought.

She was pulled from her thoughts when John’s warm thigh pressed against hers. “You know, nobody’s ever done something like this for me.”

“A surprise party?”

“No,” he said quietly, staring out at the English countryside. “Just made me feel special, I guess…so, thank you, Ruth. This is the best birthday I’ve had in a while.”

Ruth leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing contently as he slid his hand to her waist. “You deserve it. I know things have been rough lately.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled absentmindedly.

“How was the mission?” 

He sucked his teeth and took a deep breath. “Mine got scrubbed over target, but Buck’s dropped. No casualties.”

“You split up? That’s not normal, is it?”

“Doesn’t happen much, but Buck being up there without me…I hate it. I know I shouldn’t worry and that he can take care of himself, but I feel better when I can watch his back, you know?”

Ruth sat up off his shoulder and turned to face him, tucking her leg beneath her. “He’s your best friend, John. It’s okay to worry about him.”

“I know,” he nodded with pursed lips. “I just used to think we were invincible, and then…”

‘Then Curt,’ Ruth thought, her heart clenching as she heard a twinge of pain in his voice. ‘Then they lost so many.’

Neither spoke for a few moments, the sounds of the party in the distance hanging in the air.

“Curt and I, we uh, used to come up here,” John said quietly, his mind flashing back to the night he’d asked his friend to punch him…begged him to make him feel something. “He liked you a lot. Told me I seemed happier since we met.”

Gently laying a hand on his thigh, Ruth waited for him to continue.

Bucky’s mournful gaze softened as his eyes drifted from the countryside down to her moonlit face. “I am, you know,” he admitted, running the back of his hand against the soft skin of her cheek. “Happier. Tonight especially, doll.”

“You make me happier, too, John. That’s all I wanted for tonight. For you to have a good time and enjoy yourself.”

“Trust me, I did...I am.”

He then tilted her chin up to him and kissed her softly, sighing against her lips as they pulled apart, foreheads resting against the others.

“I have something for you,” Ruth whispered, her heart skipping a beat in anticipation as she grabbed it off the wing beside her. “It’s not much, alright? Don’t get your hopes up.”

She held the small brown package between them with a nervous smile, watching John’s eyes brighten and a toothless grin tug on his lips. “Oh, Ruthie, you didn’t have to.”

Ruth shrugged before excitedly shoving it into his hand. “I wanted to. Now open it!”

With a chuckle, he took it from her and removed the twine, followed by the paper, revealing a book. 

“The Odor of Violets,” John read aloud, a line growing between his brows. “A mystery novel.”

Panic surged through the blonde at his reaction, or lack thereof, and she found herself rambling as she reached to take it back. “I’m sorry, this was a terrible gift. I-I can take it back if you don’t like it. It’s set in New York and has action, so I thought you’d maybe-”

Before she could finish her sentence, John cut her off with another kiss, his lips pressing firmly against hers. When they parted, he held her gaze with a soft intensity that sent goosebumps across her body. “Ruthie,” he murmured lowly, a soft smile painting his features. “I love it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”

Relief flooded her system and a radiant smile spread across her face as she scanned his for any sign of dishonesty. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Course not. You could’ve gotten me a damn pack of gum and I’d love it.”

Ruth’s heart swelled at his words, her doubts vanishing like wisps of smoke in the night as his eyes traced the delicate curves of her face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. His eyes flickered to her lips before closing the gap between them, kissing her gently with his hand cradling her jaw. Their movements were slow, each brush of their lips bringing warmth to her already rosy cheeks. 

As they pulled back, John’s face hovered just inches from Ruth’s, his breath mingling with hers in the cool night air. His grey eyes were full of longing and desire as he gazed into her baby blues shining with anticipation. Their close proximity sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn’t help but grasp his tie and tug him into another kiss, her heart racing with a feeling she’d never experienced before.

Immediately reciprocating the action, Johnny gripped her waist, and with a soft sigh, she leaned into him. The kiss deepened as he eased her onto the cool metal surface of the wing. With his hands braced against the wing on either side of her body, John hovered over Ruth, his eyes not leaving hers as their lips continued to meet. Their embrace grew slightly more intense, fueled by the growing passion between them, and Ruth’s mind went fuzzy as she tangled her fingers in his curls and tugged him closer, reveling in the sensation of his lips and body against hers.

His lips trailed from hers down to her jaw, placing delicate kisses along it until a giggle bubbled up from her. John’s face hovered directly over hers with a toothy grin. “What?” he asked breathlessly.

Ruth beamed up at him, her eyes shining with joy as she ran her thumb over his mustache. “It tickles.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip to contain her smile. “Yeah.”

“Well, in that case…” John grinned, peppering kisses all over her face and making sure to excessively brush his upper lip across her skin.

Ruth’s giggles filled the air and with each one, John’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. He decided her laugh was his favorite sound in the world, and that he wouldn’t be upset if he heard it for the rest of his days. 

“Hey!” Ruth exclaimed, mischief flashing in her eyes as she brought a finger to point at her lips. “You’re missing your target, Major.” 

Bucky’s brows raised and crinkled his forehead. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”

Once more, their lips met, but it was gentler than before, a kiss of pure adoration. John groaned softly against her lips, his open-mouthed sighs barely above the gentle English breeze as she played with the hair on the nape of his neck. 

He was like putty beneath her touch and he knew it.

Fighting every instinct inside him, John pulled away from her, pressing a soft peck on her cheek before rolling onto his back and staring at the moonlit clouds above them. Ruth followed suit, nestling into his side as he wrapped his arm around her, the other propped behind his head.

“Thank you,” John rasped as he squeezed her hip lightly. “For everything. Not just for tonight, either.”

Ruth lifted her head to get a better look at his face. His brows furrowed and he pursed his lips in thought staring into the sky. Resting her hands on his chest, she propped her chin atop them, studying his features. “You don’t have to thank me. You never have to thank me, John. I-”

The words that came to her mind hit her like a punch in the gut…I love you.

In all of her 24 years, Ruth Morgan never felt strongly about anyone to even think the words, but with John, her Bucky, her hotshot, the words almost spilled from her lips involuntarily. 

She loved him. She knew that, but a little voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to wait. That it was too soon.

“I-I’m here for you,” she finished instead, her stomach swirling with regret as soon as the words left her lips.

Johnny’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “I know you are. And that means more than you’ll ever know, doll.”

He brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, his touch warm against her skin. Ruth’s heart fluttered at his touch and her breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze. The moment stretched between them, neither able to tear their eyes away from the ones across from them. 

“I’m here, too,” he nodded. “Whenever you need me.”

Ruth’s lips formed into a bashful grin and she laid her head back down on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his shirt. 

“You know,” she sighed, allowing the steady beat of his heart to calm her racing one. “I never imagined I’d find myself here, lying on the wing of a B-17 with someone like you.”

John chuckled, the sound vibrating beneath her cheek. “Someone like me? So you’re sayin’ you imagined being here with some other chump?”

“You know what I mean,” Ruth groaned, playfully swatting his arm as her laughter hung in the air.

He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Yeah, I do. And I gotta say, I’m glad it’s me up here with you, too.”

20:10 HRS: 8:10 PM

The couple spent a while longer talking into the quiet night until the music in the distance stopped playing, and they knew it was time to return to their huts. They walked hand in hand to the Red Cross hut where the women were waiting inside excitedly for their last two occupants to arrive.

Stopping at the door, Ruth chewed at her lip and turned to face John, sliding her arms around his shoulders. “Goodnight, handsome. Happy birthday,” she whispered.

“Night,” he replied and kissed her softly. As Bucky pulled away, his eyes flicked to the window and he chuckled under his breath. “Tell Tatty that she needs to get her hut in line.”

Ruth followed his eyes to the window to see Tatty, Helen, and another Red Cross girl watching them through a crack in the curtains. Realizing they’d been caught, the curtains flew shut and their hushed laughter leaked from under the door.

A blush made its way to her face as she reached for the door handle, sparing John one more glance to which he just shot her a wink. Ruth closed the door behind her, and then the hut came alive, each of the women swarming her with questions. To her relief, Tatty shooed them all away and brought her over to the blonde’s bed for the night.

“Seems like someone had a good night,” she smiled, chuckling as she pointed to Ruth’s mouth.

Ruth wiped her hand around her lips and her eyes widened when her fingers came back bright pink. “I’m gonna kill him,” she blurted loudly, unable to keep a grin off her face as she quickly wiped the victory red smudges from her lips. “I don’t care if he’s the birthday boy or not.”

“Take a swing for me when you do, alright?”

Patting the nurse on her shoulder, Tatty left her to get ready for bed while the rest of them did the same. Ruth shook her head and snuggled under her blankets as her mind replayed the day. She didn’t worry about Hope, for she knew she was probably off somewhere with Buck, doing what lovers do in the night.

They were getting married, after all. They loved each other.

Staring off at the wall in front of her, Ruth’s lips tugged into a small grin at her ‘almost’ confession to John. The moment was right, she should’ve told him how she felt…but she didn’t, and she promised herself she wouldn’t take the next opportunity for granted.

Before long, the door creaked open, and in walked Hope, her long dark hair sopping wet as a barely perceivable blush dusted her cheeks. Ruth raised an amused eyebrow at her friend, her eyes scanning the woman suspiciously as she approached their bunks.  Staying silent for a few moments, Ruth’s excitement and curiosity bubbled from within her and she tugged Hope to sit down beside her. 

“Tell me everything!”

20:55 HRS: 8:55 PM

John sighed and sunk into his bunk, leaning against the wall as he reached for his new book. He smiled down at the cover at the thought of Ruth…her excitement to give it to him, her worried rambles when she thought he didn’t like it. He flipped open the cover and was met with her familiar neat cursive handwriting. 

‘A teacher’s handwriting,’ he always thought.

My Hotshot, Happy 28th birthday! I hope your day has been as amazing as you are, old man! I know this isn’t much of a present, but when I saw it, you immediately came to my mind and I knew I had to buy it. Not that you aren’t constantly on my mind, but…you get what I’m saying. You’d think as an English teacher, I’d be able to string together some eloquent words to make this sound good, but when it comes to you, hon, my mind gets fuzzy and I can’t ever think straight. Anyway, I know how much you love Guys and Dolls, and I think you’ll like this one, too. I adore you, John, and I hope you’ll think of me each time you open this book.  Happy Birthday, honey. Affectionately yours, Ruth Morgan

Warmth filled his body as he read the words for a second, a third, and a fourth time. Just like her letters, Bucky could hear her sweet voice reading her words. With a soft sigh, John grasped the cross around his neck as he leaned his head back onto the wall, his eyes fluttering shut. Ruth’s smiling face appeared in his mind, and he almost felt her soft lips against his.

It took him nearly twenty minutes of scrubbing to get the last remnants of her lipstick from his face once, but every second was all worth it.

Bucky’s eyes opened as Gale strolled into the hut, his towel resting over his shoulder and his hair still dripping from his shower. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Hugh asked, cocking his head to the right. “I was about to send out a search party to save you from my sister.”

Gale snorted, “I didn’t need any saving…the ‘future Mrs Cleven’ and I had a fine evening.” 

Hugh rolled his eyes, “Oh gosh, you know what that means.” 

Before Hugh could continue, Harding poked his head in the door with Major Bowman behind him.

“Evening Gentlemen. Everyone alright?” A chorus of ‘Yes Sir’ followed, and Harding nodded. 

“Good. Glad you all had a good time. I just wanted to remind you all that the rule of ‘no women in the huts’ still stands. That goes for you too, Cleven.” He pointed at Gale suspiciously, eyeing him up and down before returning his attention to the rest of the men. “Have a good night, Gents.” 

The door slammed shut and the room was left in silence, all the men looking at Gale, who was still standing in the center of the room in utter disbelief when John spoke up from his spot on his bed, placing ‘The Odor of Violets’ onto his nightstand. 

“Buck, you sly dog,” he chuckled, pointing at his best friend with his brows raised. “You finally got some action!!” 

A few moments later, the door opened again and it was Red’s face that appeared in the doorway. “And Egan,” the man sighed, fighting a smirk from appearing on his lips. “Next time you decide to give your girl a plane tour, make sure there’s no ground crewman in the cockpit, alright? Night, boys.”

The second the door closed, the hut erupted into laughter with John’s being the loudest, his cackles echoing off the thin metal walls. “No one tells Ruth! She’ll never wanna be seen with me again!”

Gale released a grateful sigh, thankful that the attention was no longer on him. John was used to that kind of spotlight, but Buck was not. 

“Sounds like you’re the one who got some action, Bucky,” DeMarco yelled from across the room.

“No action over here,” John shrugged, settling back down onto his cot and grabbing his book.

Bill scoffed on his cot beside Johnny’s. “I don’t believe that for one second. You two were all over each other.”

“And you disappeared pretty early,” Bubbles added with a smirk.

“What? I swear! Is it that unbelievable?”

A chorus of ‘yeahs’ filled the hut at the question, and Bucky shook his head with a shrug, finding his place in the book. “Believe what you want, boys, but nothing happened.”

They continued to argue, but he just blocked them out, smiling to himself as he thought of the party and his evening spent with Ruth. John’s eyes drifted over to Gale across the room, who was seemingly doing the same thing, a small grin on his face that only appeared in Hope’s presence or at the thought of the nurse.

Feeling eyes on him, Buck’s gaze roamed around the room until it met Johnny’s over his book. The older man sent him a questioning eyebrow and when Gale shrugged with a smirk, he knew all he needed to know. And when Gale sent him the same look, Bucky simply winked and went back to his book. Buck knew he was telling the truth.

It seemed the women in their lives brought out the other side of them…Hope brought out the boldness in Gale, and Ruth drew out the loving and calmer John that Buck knew him to be.

The rest of the hut was still in disbelief at the atypical behavior of their friends, but Hugh just grinned from his position on his cot…he knew exactly why they both acted that way:

They were in love.

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[rustedhearts]

crush (college!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: academic distraction comes in the form of one tall, handsome brunet named steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the scholar stud masterlist ✶ main masterlist

tags: college!steve, college!reader, fluff, a little cringe sometimes, steve's a cocky douche, smut!! silly ending because i just wanted to finish it.

a/n: why, yes. the notorious college steve has returned for this one day. i hope you enjoy his rebirth.

somewhere in indiana, october 1988. tillman university.

"And that concludes today's class. Folks, don't forget the exam tomorrow, bright and early eight a.m—"

The shuffle of notebooks and folders being swept from plastic desks drowned out the bellow of Professor Brown's instructions as the class scurried to leave. Everyone knew the pub just on the edge of campus was hosting 'Beer Olympics' tonight, and most of your classmates couldn't risk losing out on even one moment in that sticky, wood-paneled bar.

Including the handsome, silky-haired Steve Harrington, who sat in front of you and chewed on his pen for the entire hour of English 231: British Literature. At first, the incessant clicking of teeth against plastic and ink drove you insane.

But once, he whirled around when the cap went flying and landed on your desk, and the smile he passed you seemed sweet and bashful. The rosiness on his cheeks pretty, the hazel of his eyes against the fluorescents dreamy. He started murmuring to you during class discussions, begging for explanations on 'what the hell that Shakespeare guy was talking about.'

Steve Harrington might've shared a love for the stupid and the insane like the rest of the population on Tillman's campus, but he had the good grace to display it such a wonderful way that you didn't even mind.

You shuffled back to your dorm, bundled in a scarf and wool-lined coat, prepared to settle cozily into bed and study for tomorrow's test—your roommate, however, had other ideas.

"I need you to come with me," she whined as you removed your layers and tossed them on the bed. "This is my one chance for James to see how hot I am."

A cackle shot from your mouth, though you softened to pity as your roommate's shoulders drooped. James was her very own Steve: handsome, a year or two her senior, and a complete academic distraction. Her attempts to get his attention have lengthened weeks now, but all to no avail.

"I don't know...I have an exam tomorrow—"

"Oh, God, please," she groaned, falling back on her bed across the room. The springs yipped. "Chaucer is more important than the state of my love life?"

"What is the state of your love life?"

"Dead!"

You bit back a grin, swallowing all amusement when your roommate rolled onto her side and frowned at you. Like a little sister begging to be included, she rounded her eyes and jutted her lip.

"C'mon, please?" she whined. "You can bring your stuff to study, I'm sure there's a quiet corner. They have food, too! Come on, I'll buy you shitty bar wings!"

Eyeing her weepy, desperate eyes and your piles of highlighted notes, you mulled over the options with half-hearted sincerity. You were 95% sure you would ace this exam tomorrow, and the study session was for 'just in case.' Who were you to stand in the way of your roommate's apparent true love?

"And onion rings," you added.

Bouncing into a seated position, your roommate beamed and clapped her hands together sharply. "Anything."

✶ ✶

"Okay, here." Two plastic baskets of sticky barbecue wings and crispy, golden onion rings slid your way across a poorly-cleaned wooden hightop. "Are you good by yourself over here? I saw James by the pool table."

Grinning like a toddler with a treat, you reached for a wing with gentle fingers and nodded. "Yep, I'm perfect. Go get your man!"

Relief flooded her features, all dolled up and sparkly. She popped a quick kiss to your cheek and spun around, sweeping a hand over her hair to tame the frizz.

"Okay, I'm going in."

You watched her trot away in heels she could barely squeeze into with a giggle. She eased her way into a group of people near the pool table, lingering close enough to the blond-haired James without seeming desperate. You'd seen your roommate dizzy-headed around plenty of men before, but James turned her into something else.

The corner she found you was as quiet as a bar corner could be at eight o'clock on the night of a campus-wide event. Purses and backpacks piled in the corner of your booth, potently scented with sweet perfume and cigarette smoke. The lights were low back here, and most of your notes came scanned in the neon blue glow of the Budweiser sign hanging behind your head. Once your eyes adjusted to the hue, and the rowdy buzz of your peers faded away, you honestly found enjoyment in your little corner.

Until—

"Well hello, Oh studious one," a voice bellowed over the noise. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Steve Harrington, handsome, pink-cheeked, and a little bleary-eyed, sauntered toward your table with a beer in hand. He bent over your textbook, elbows creasing the onion skin pages, and flashed you a sideways grin. You thanked the blue lights for concealing the heat in your face.

"I'm quite surprising."

He chuckled, condensation dripping from the amber bottle in hand when he pointed the mouth of it toward the contents of your table. "And you're...reading. At a bar."

You clicked your pen, swiping a lukewarm onion ring from its basket. "I'm studying for our test tomorrow."

Steve lifted his gaze from the book, returning it to your face—his own blank and thoughtless. He's slow to lift the lip of the beer bottle to his mouth, and the swig he takes comes with furrowed brows.

The bottle pops away with a sharp release of suction. "Test?"

Giggling, you slap your hand onto your book. "Are you serious? Professor Brown just told us about it, like, four hours ago."

Steve straightened up, removing himself from your book. A large hand swept over the top of his hair, darkened with dampness from the exertion of Beer Olympic seriousness.

"Ohhh, that test," he snarked. "The test on...."

He trailed so far you worried he'd get lost, and as you tipped your chin down and fixed him with an incredulous look, you had mercy on him. "Chaucer."

Steve blinked again, eyes as glazed over and empty as a doe's. "Who?"

You succumbed to your amusement, a chorus of giggles bubbling over. "You're helpless."

Steve shrugged, cheek meeting his shoulder with an air of coolness. His body tipped sideways, one elbow returning to its place on your wrinkled pages to lean his weight on the table.

"Maybe so."

You took a small bite of your onion ring, which had lost all its crisp, and took your turn to blink blankly. But the boy was patient, knuckles rapping on the table in an offbeat tune as you lingered in the pause. Finally, overcome by his own impatience, Steve set his bottle on the table and slid even closer. You could feel the warmth of his body, exuding alcohol-laced sweat and a back alley cigarette soaked into the dampness of his t-shirt. Black cotton, thinned with sweat, drenched in leathery cologne applied hours ago.

"Maybe...you could help me then," he suggested, tone sauced with boyish charm.

Heat flooded your face like a dam bursting, rushing like a hot-blooded throb. You shifted on the sticky booth, boots clunking together beneath the table. The bits of soggy breading balled in your throat.

"I—" You swallowed, hands gripping the booth beneath you with urgency. "I-t-that could—"

Steve plucked his beer bottle from the table, sliding a step away from the table. His friends crowded around the pool table, where your roommate and her very own version of Steve were pressed against the wall, murmuring in close proximity.

"So, tomorrow?" He took another shuffled step back, a glint in his eye like he already knew his work was done.

He had you.

You swallowed again, tongue darting out to wet your dry mouth. "But...the test will be over by then."

Steve cupped his hand around his ear, eyes squinting as you grew smaller with every step back. "What? I can't—you're so far away! I can't hear you."

Amusement glimmered through, shattering your stunned stupor and bringing you back to life. Another mindless giggle tumbled from your mouth, and Steve savored it as he turned just enough to miss your pretty face.

"See you tomorrow!" he called.

You watched the plain of his broad back make its way into the crowd again, falling into a chorus of hoops and hollers and flushed, sticky bodies. You watched him douse himself in beer from a poorly-crafted beer bong held by a sloppy drunk. You watched him until you felt like a giddy schoolgirl, and did your best to return to your work and wait to take your leave.

And Steve stole glances when he knew you were no longer looking, hoping you'd really show.

✶ ✶

"I can't believe this is happening."

"I'm already nervous enough, please stop saying that."

"I'm sorry!" your roommate shrieked, hands slapping against her cheeks as she watched you fix your hair for the millionth time in the mirror on the floor. "I just...I just can't."

"Okay, but you can tell me if my outfit is good. Is it-is it okay? What does it say to you?"

You hopped to your feet, whirling around to show your carefully crafted outfit. You spent all night holding your roommate's hair back and pondering over your outfit in your head; daydreaming about what Steve would say once he had you in his dorm room, which he slipped by your table with beer-laced instructions to meet him at when the night dwindled down.

Now here you were, clammy palmed and losing your mind. Was this some sort of trick? A dare? Was he playing a joke on you?

“It says: ‘I want Steve Harrington to fuck me.’ But in a very chic, understated way.”

Huffing, you did your best to ignore the swirl in your belly at the thought of Steve mirroring your roommate’s beliefs.

“I’m leaving. You’re no help,” you half-heartedly scolded, swiping your bag on the way toward the door.

But if Steve Harrington wanted to fuck you, you certainly had no objections.

He had a sloppily scrawled sign on his dorm room door declaring it his place of residence (and whoever the hell Eddie Munson was). You swallowed as you brought your knuckles to the wood, smoothing your hair once more as footsteps shuffled behind it. It swung open with a gust of warm, woodsy air. His cologne filled the room like a potent candle, and you took a brief moment to suppress a cough before taking in his smooth, half cocked grin.

“Hey, pretty,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms.

Huffing a laugh, you fiddled with the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “Hi, Steve.”

Steve took a moment to drink you in, tongue inching between his lips to wet it as he shuffled back a step. His hand pushed the door open all the way, revealing a recently-cleaned bedroom adorned with two double-twins and a desk warm with amber lamplight. You immediately knew which posters were his—all sports related and signed.

“Come on in, get comfy.”

You took tiny steps inside, shivering when he breezed by in another whoosh of air to close the door behind you. The heat of his body, lingering close behind as you inspected the room, nipped at that gooey, mushy part of you that ached for him. The same part of you that rendered you a distracted, brainless mess in class when he spoke or flexed that strong arm with a grip around his pen.

“Thirsty?”

Whirling around, you found Steve standing near the desk, watching you with fixed and glinting hazel eyes.

Your face warmed twenty degrees. “Sorry?”

He motioned toward a mini fridge under the desk, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Something to drink?”

You breathed a laugh, swinging your bag off your shoulder. “Oh, um, sure.”

You had to look away when he bent to pull it open, the strain of tendons and cords of muscle in his tan, lean arms enough to make your mouth pool with water. Christ, you were ridiculous. You turned toward the dark, black fabric-clad side of the room where his roommate must’ve lived.

“So, um, the test was pretty easy this morning, but we can still—“

“Look at you. God, you’re so beautiful.”

The cold condensation of a Coke can pressing against your arm was the first to startle you—whirling around with a sharp-edged gasp. Then the sound of his words, rasped behind your ear, bringing goosebumps to your skin. His body, so close you could feel his warmth, smell the mint on his freshly-brushed teeth.

Standing this close, you could feel his breath tickle your cheeks, could see the shiny sheen of spit on his mouth from his tongue.

"W-what?"

Steve just shook his head, a dumfounded wonderment glistening in his eye. "You heard me."

Your jaw slackened, lips parting to utter some stupefied response, mind turning to soupy mush at the sudden proximity. Before you could even attempt some silly, bashful disagreement, Steve collected your chin in his hand. Pinched between gentle fingers, he guided your mouth up to his own until their softness touched.

The Coke can clattered to the ground and rolled toward the desk as his mouth closed over yours. You perked on your toes, fingers curling into fists as they lifted toward his shoulders, broad and firm. You couldn't believe this was happening. You always thought he tossed you looks during class, that he might've lingered a little too long when he walked to his desk just to watch you sit there.

You never imagined it could be true. That Steve Harrington wanted you the way you wanted him.

“You could’ve,” an interruption of kisses stopped you short, the click of spit and lips echoing off cinderblock, “at least…mm, pretended—oh! T-to study.”

“Couldn’t wait,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, teeth scraping your bottom lip, breath hot against your tongue.

Arousal flushed hot in your body, stomach squeezing in time with the fluttered successions of excitement provoked by his roaming hands. They stroked down your arms and toward your waist, slipping through the curves to hold you firmly. Another gasp bled into his open mouth when he tugged you close.

"This is so much better than Chaucer," he breathed, mouth sliding over your lips to your cheek where he pressed a firm and sloppy kiss.

"Mhm," you pipped dazedly, head tipping to follow his affections.

Thighs bumping the edge of the bed, you allowed Steve to guide you onto the black duvet of the mattress behind you. It rumpled with the hurried shuffle of bodies climbing over. Steve tugged you by the calves when you met the pillow, pulling you flat beneath him. He dipped with eager excitement to collect another kiss as your thighs bookended his hips.

"Test was already graded," Steve muttered, nudging your jaw with his nose to move it aside and fit his head in your neck. "Got...mm...eighty-five."

Heaving for air, you ruffled your fingers through the thickness of his hair: soft and slipping between your hands like silk. Blinded by the tingling buzz reverberating through your bones, you could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence aloud. Steve's lips suctioned to the column of your throat, and your body gave a jolt.

"Th-thought you didn't know anything."

Steve chuckled, and the sound grumbled through you like a firework. You gave another jerk, fingers twisting in his hair, hips canting up against the firmness of his jeans.

"M' not stupid," he mumbled into your neck, nipping with gentle teeth at your earlobe. "Just so distracted. Can't stop thinkin' 'bout you behind me."

"Oh, Steve," you scoffed, eyes opening blearily to blink at the tiled ceiling, browned with old water stains. His hair tickled your cheek, cologne bathing you in masculine comfort.

Steve lifted his head, peering down at you with rosy cheeks and swollen lips. "You don't believe me?"

You let your hands fall from his hair, smoothing over the firmness of his shoulders. The stretch of your thighs around him began to burn in the most delicious way, and the tufts of chest hair slipping from his grey t-shirt made you shift on the bed. You wanted him. Like a mad woman, some nymphomaniac, lust-ridden fiend.

"I don't know," you sighed, running a finger down his chest. "Let's just...talk about it later."

Steve watched you a moment, eyes scanning your face with scrutiny. When heat swelled in your flesh, his lips coiled into a grin, eyes alight with amusement.

"Ohhh, I see. Poor little baby just can't wait. Y' want me, pretty girl?"

You bobbed your head fervently, the beginning of a pout even toying with your lips. He rendered you ridiculous and stupid, and later, you might've even felt embarrassed about how easy it was for Steve Harrington to have you whining.

But right now, all you cared about were his hands, big and rough and warm to the touch, taking off your shirt.

"Don't worry, honey," Steve cooed breathlessly, eyes traveling to the newly exposed flesh. "You've got me."

As his hands explored and grabbed at flesh, your own slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, splaying over the soft skin beneath. He was quick to shed himself of the layer, and you did your best to admire the build revealed as he trailed kisses between your breasts. He led them all the way down to your navel, and then over the curve of flesh leading to the waistband of your pants. Steve hooked his fingers in the belt loops and tugged harshly, practically ripping them from your thighs and down over your feet.

He captured his lip between his teeth as he settled between your legs again, fingers pinching and kneading at the flesh like soft dough. "And I've got you. Ain't that right?"

You grew dizzy with your nodding, so petulantly desperate and pleading. Steve grinned at it, index tracing the lace of your underwear with explorative wonderment as he watched your eyes well up. He was certain if he prolonged your pleasure any more, he'd have you weeping.

"Don't cry, honey," he soothed, peeling your panties off by the lace band. "Steve's gotcha."

In the back of your mind, you rolled your eyes and giggled at the ridiculous confidence Steve seemed to think he could get away with—but in reality, you were too busy lifting your hips to meet Steve's fingers, brushing just gently over your core as he undid his belt with the other hand. The buckle clinked and clunked with a toss, clattering to the tile floor somewhere near Steve's side of the room, where your backpack and all its contents spilled in the erotic chaos of Steve's impatience.

When the pair of you were bare, Steve breached the distance—flesh on flesh exuding heat that glistened in a haloed sheen. His mouth worked over yours a while longer, melting you down just a little more into absolutely nothing. Hands coaxing your limbs to release their tensions, your muscles to relax and ease into him. You trusted him more than anything, warmed by his gentle affections. No man had ever been so sweet and slow.

The crinkle of foil came like tv static, muffled and low. And then something larger than his fingers was brushing your core, slipping through the slickness pooling. He rubbed the tip along your most sensitive, delicate spot just enough to have you whimpering and twisting, before sliding into your entrance with slow, meticulous purpose.

Steve groaned as he pushed further, forearms planted on either side of your head. Your thighs quaked against his ribs, hoisted high and holding on tight. You reached for his hair again, desperate for more of him.

"You okay, honey?" Steve mumbled against your cheek, fanning hot breath into your ear.

You shivered at the grumble of his voice rattling through you, nodding once more. "Y-yeah. Keep going, please."

He huffed a chuckle, shifting his hips to push a little deeper and revel in the gasp you shot out.

"Please," he mocked, kissing your damp cheek. "So sweet."

When he sank in completely, you could've sworn you saw the light. A burning sting that had you writhing crawled through your thighs and up your back, settled even deep in your stomach where the thickness of him rested. He nuzzled into your neck with a low grunt of relief, giving you the space of his back to run your fingers down and kiss mindlessly. Steve seemed to be no better, losing himself in the warmth of your body wrapped around him.

"Steve, please."

Your voice stirred him from his hazy, lust-drunk stupor; he quickly readjusted to lift off his arms.

"Shh, shh, 've got you."

Like revving an engine, Steve gave a few short thrusts before settling into a pace of slow, deep humps that came like timed successions. You gasped and groaned with every one, nails biting into the warm, clammy skin of his shoulders. Once he knew you were satisfied and free of discomfort, Steve took his moment to brush your hair out of your face with a heavy, sweeping palm. He peppered kisses all over your face, delicate brushes of his mouth over your eyelids and nose, firmer across your mouth and cheeks.

Who knew Steve Harrington would be so sweet?

“Knew you’d feel so good,” he whined into your ear, pace quickening a bit with eagerness.

“So good,” you parroted, a high pitched and nasally lilt congealing your voice.

But he was just that good.

The room quieted to a blend of slick skin clicking and the bated, hoarse breaths of erotic thrill. You weren’t sure how long it truly went on, but the world just fell away around you. Blackened in a vignette of vision, hazed over with heavenly satisfaction. Your body buzzed in some muffled, distant way—you felt like just a mind in a body, being taken away. It was hard to focus on anything other than Steve, rocking into you and leaving kisses on your neck.

When your hiccuped breath shifted to sharp mewls, clawed from somewhere deep in your chest, Steve reared back and steadied his hands on your hips. He slowed to a glacial pace, watching his own cock prod at the flesh beneath your navel, your own slickness gather at his pelvis. He brought his thumb to your clit, pressing firmly into the delicate nub to focus a gentle, circular massage. You twisted and writhed like a woman enraged with demonic possession, and your grip on his forearms felt like something out of The Exorcist.

But it was all worth it to watch your face balloon with heat, flooding every vein with scorching pleasure until air became nothing but a lifeline. Steve was glad to even press pause on his own pleasure just to see you summit. Your chest trembled with a quaking roar, limbs succumbing to weakness in the daze. Vision clouded with grey static, streaked with a pool of tears.

When you were positively spent, Steve carefully unsheathed, squeezing his fist around his cock with firm pressure and bringing it to hover over your stomach.

“This okay, sweetheart?” he managed to grit out, neck bulging with veins, cheeks growing red.

You could barely nod, swiping your hand through the thin layer of sweat along his arm. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh God—fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Warmth splattered across your abdomen, like a gentle flicker of water across your skin. The squelching sound of Steve fucking his fist died down, mirroring the dwindle of moans and groans from the boy himself. He fell forward heavily, catching himself with one hand beside your head. His nose brushed your cheek, catching his breath against the clammy skin.

“Christ,” he heaved, jutting a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “We owe Chaucer a big one.”

Before you could giggle or scoff, the door swung open with a chittering screech. Steve scrambled to grab the comforter and shield your bare, sticky bodies, both your heads snapping toward the doorway as a shaggy-haired boy stomped through: his roommate.

“Harrington, what the fuck?”

[shop-korea]

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[4dtk]

hi i would love to if you could write a story with jaehyun where he gives y/n a massage and then fucks y/n

long. enjoy, 1.8k baby. dont think i'll give this one a name either LOL

warnings: fingering, doggy, reverse cowgirl, breeding kink

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“hey. how was work?” you were often the culprit of jaehyun’s questions when your foot first lands in your apartment, toeing off your shoes with ease as he welcomes you with a peck to your cheek. he holds your waist loosely while you massage your ankles and toes, glad for a breath of fresh air even if they were hidden behind socks.

jaehyun drags you into the living room before you can speak, manspreading like he’s done it a hundred time before and pats his thighs. it makes you smile and raise an eyebrow. settling in front of him felt good, although he yanks you back onto his chest a little enthusiastically than usual that you let out a squeal. you just pass it off that he’s happy to see you after a day of doing nothing.

in a way, he has done it a hundred times. it was routine at this point, where you’d just sit against his back and lay against him, sometimes tilting your head back to admire his side profile. you’d talk about co-workers, your lunch, your overbearing tasks, all while jaehyun gently massages your sides with alternating hands, always sure to apply a fair amount of pressure to ease out your nerves.

he laughs into your neck at your reaction, but other than that, he remains quiet as you start on your rant, gesturing widely to this one annoying colleague that’s been getting on your nerves for the past few weeks. always talking over you for the tasks assigned to you, dropping badly-timed statements that definitely could be defined as a backhanded compliment; you could go on and on about the co-worker that you don’t notice jaehyun’s hands retreating from your waist to push you away from his body, travelling up your back instead.

they slowly feel up your back like an experienced masseuse, testing the waters with his thumb in a particularly deep dig in between your shoulder blades. it makes you gasp, the rant about how the same co-worker had accidentally interrupted by your sound of surprise. it’s the exhale of breath, however, that resembled something dangerously close to a whimper and you hope to god that jaehyun doesn’t hear it.

“you gotta relax for me, baby,” jaehyun grunts, continuing to sort out the kinks and aches in your back, no doubt brought about by your bad posture. at least if you were working from home, jaehyun would be able to provide you with hourly reminders to stretch out your back. ah, well, this would have to suffice.

jaehyun was talented with his hands, portraying his efficiency in relaxing the tension in your back with how intimately they moved from one area to another. another crack resonates throughout the room, making you moan out at the released tightness.

jaehyun loses his grip on sanity each time his knuckle, thumbs, fingers meet every inch of your back, eliciting countless other sounds that went south with how lewd they sounded. when you whimper again, he sighs with a little praise of good girl, breath tickling your ear lightly that it causes you to giggle. you’re at ease now, leaning back before he seemingly massages out the last ache in your back.

“you’re a bothersome little minx, aren’t you?” the other smirks against your neck, another giggle escaping your lips when you feel his hand prying your thighs apart. “well, thank fucking god you wore a skirt today.”

jaehyun’s smirk stretches into a grin when he feels how there’s a wet patch on your underwear from the suggestive session where you could feel his hardening erection against your bum. it played out like a bad sex scene from a movie, but you couldn’t complain when you were the stars of the show, able to feeling jaehyun’s fingers on your hips, on your thighs. he drags a finger to your centre painfully slow that you thrash gently against his hold, but it only makes him reinforce the secure arm he has around you. “patience, angel.”

“sorry, hun, but your massages are always so good. i still wonder why we didn’t do this earlier.”

“then… let’s change up our tradition a little, huh?” he purrs, panties already to the side before jaehyun slips a sneaky finger in. your hole sucks him in so easily that a groan is heard, possibly from the both of you. you’re not even sure any more, body overtaken by pleasure as he adds a second finger. you’re so wet that it’s no trouble for the man, who marvels over your shoulder at how good you’re taking his digits.

“haah… j-jae…” he chuckles against your shoulder, eyes never leaving how he’s pumping his fingers into you. they stretch you out so good and you can barely manage words, reduced to nothing but breathy moans and whines while he fucks you open. you mewl on a sudden hard thrust where his fingers are so deep that it’s up to his knuckle. he laughs again.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” jaehyun murmurs, “but i don’t think i can hold it in any longer.” the emptiness you feel when he removes his fingers was criminal, but you can’t complain when you’d be getting his cock in a second or two, already eyeing the bulge that showed itself through his sweatpants. your mouth drops open when he pulls it down in one swift pull, not so much for his length but more of the fact that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“of course you aren’t wearing boxers. you’ve been planning this, haven’t you?”

“caught red-handed. a smart one, aren’t you?” jaehyun speaks through pants while he lubes up his cock with his pre-cum, boring holes into your eyes with his with a lazy smirk. he doesn’t miss the way you’re rubbing circles onto your neglected cunt. “guess i’d just have to fuck the smart out of you.”

he uses his strength to turn you over, smushing your face into the cushions below you before he eases himself into you, groaning at how fast you clench around him. jaehyun can forgive you for that, since he’s left you on edge with a gaping hole that showed how good his fingers could stretch you out. he reaches a hand over to push your hand from your clit gently while he lets you get used to his thick length resting into you and he swears he feels you clench again when his fingers play with your bundle of nerves.

“let me take care of you tonight. leave it to me.” jaehyun snaps his hips against your ass, propelling you forward just a little from the force. it draws out a slurred moan, even more when he starts his assault on your pussy, sliding in and out of you deliciously.

“mmhm uh- uh- jaeee…!” the fabric below you is stained with your drool.

jaehyun’s already sure you’d get a noise complaint filed against you tomorrow morning, but he can’t care much when the sounds falling from your lips are his favourite song, while his name is like a prayer that you recite every night. tonight just so happened to be the first, with many more sessions involving your begging for him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper. you’re so fucking desperate for his cock when you push back onto him, meeting his thrusts with your own rhythm while the cushions soak up your moans.

eyeing the tv for a second, the male has never felt so glad that he’s set the screensaver to be a boring black screen. it mimics a mirror with the exception of a few blurred visuals due to the semi-matte protector you opted for. “w-wha? jae-“ in a second, jaehyun hauls you up to rest against his chest again, the friction of your shirts uncomfortable from the sweat that manages to seep through. none of you pay much attention, rather to the black screen in front of you that shows how pliant you are for jaehyun.

thighs wide open, while your greedy cunt takes in every inch of jaehyun. it makes him cum right then and there but he holds himself bask the best that he can. “look at you, pretty girl. split open by my fat cock, whining like a good little girl.” the words drives heat up your body like electricity and your body can’t deny itself any longer, grinding down on the length that’s buried deep in you; the sight in front of you only turns you on more. jaehyun is true to his word like a gentleman, driving his dick deep into you instead of making you do the work and soon, he settles into a comfortable pace.

“j-jaehyuuun… shit..” your head finds home on his shoulders, thrown back while his hips continue to piston into you endlessly, heeding your word when you ask him to pick up the pace. “yeah? feel good, darling?” your moans and his combine with the loud, pornographic sounds coming from in between your legs, cunt dripping with arousal with every pump of his pelvis. giddily, you nod at the question, hands tightly wrapped around his arms that were holding your legs open.

“look at the screen, pretty girl.” and you do, mewling in excitement when you witness a white ring of cum at the base of his cock. “should i cum in you? would you like that, hm?” you’re rendered speechless by he fills you up to the brim with his hard thrusts, pussy fluttering around him when you think of him filling you up in another way and you nod again like a dumb little bitch.

“yes- yes yes! fuck, cum in me.” with your confirmation, it unleashes something feral in jaehyun, delivering faster thrusts that you start crying out, reaching all the corners of the small apartment. it contributes to the heat growing in the pit of your stomach, “fill me up, p-please…!” jaehyun emits a deep groan when you say the words, snapping up into you until they get sloppier and messier, thighs tired from his constant movements.

“cumming, cumming, cumming!” you announce it, pussy clenching tight around his cock as you release your juices all over it. jaehyun follows quickly after, hips stuttering before pumping you full of his cum, spurting his seed deep into your womb. the feeling has you shaking, licking your lips in a thrill when the first drop of cum oozes out of you. littering small kisses down the length of your neck, he uses his finger to stuff it back into you. “shit… we can’t waste any of it, can we?” you roll your eyes, turning your head to the side to meet his lips with a smile, silently thanking him for the destress.

-

“fucking hell, seriously?” holding a piece of paper the next morning, you faintly make out the words through the morning vision. jaehyun looks over your shoulder and lets out a loud laugh, barely escaping your poorly aimed smacks as you figure out how to sort out the noise complaint. “your pussy was just too wet, waking up the whole building-“

“jaehyun!”

[lacheri]

11:29 PM, 4/20

pairing: stoner!Eren and fem bodied reader

content: smoking/drugs, dumbification, finger fucking, penetration, porn without plot, minors DNI

summary: eren's been trying to fuck you for years now, and he's got a different angle to play at this time. all it takes are a few pretty words and free weed.

wc: 3.5k

notes: happy 4/20 lmfao i wrote this in two hours and i'm posting this unedited and half asleep

‘Rolling up, you sliding through?’

Your phone illuminated brightly against your face as you held your phone above you, your bed’s soft comforter brought up to your chin. You bit your lip, contemplating Eren’s invitation. Your eyes glanced to the clock in the corner of your phone screen, blinking a couple of times. ‘11:29 PM’ it read back.

‘Pleaaaase, 4/20 is almost over ):’ Eren had resorted to double texting, and you sighed, his battle easily won. You tried to believe it was fought hard, but you knew perfectly well that you were wrapped around Eren’s pretty little finger. He called, you answered. Simple as that.

‘I want a blunt all to myself for this Jaeger. I’m literally in bed right now’ you typed back quickly, clicking the off button on the side of your device, begrudgingly throwing your blanket off your body as the heat escaped. You gazed down at your attire, sweatshirt and sleep shorts bundled up to your form, and you sighed once again. Eren was going to have to accept you like this, because there was absolutely no way in Hell that you could fathom throwing on real clothes this late at night.

‘What’re you wearing? Send pics’

‘Eren I’m LITERALLY!!! On my way to your house right now’. This boy was going to be the death of you, or at least whatever brain cells you had left.

Fuzzy pink slides adorned on your feet, hair thrown up in the messiest ‘neat’ bun you could manage, you pocketed your keys and wallet. You grabbed your bookbag in the corner of your room full of paraphernalia, knowing well by now that Eren was too lazy to buy bongs or bowls, and made your way out of your home, locking the front door on your way out. You hit the unlock button on your car, throwing the bag in the passenger seat and set out for your late night journey.

It wasn’t uncommon for your best friend to hit you up so late, in fact it was Eren’s peak hours for hanging out. He never genuinely inconvenienced you, just an annoyance because every single time you got that invite text or call, your head would have just hit the pillow beneath you, sleep on the horizon. Traffic was the best at this time too, you would reason on the way there, virtually no cars on the road, turning your usual twenty minute ride into a ten minute one.

When you rolled up Eren’s driveway, you could see the dark red lights of his bedroom through the upstairs window on the front of the house. You picked your phone out of your pocket, texting a quick ‘I’m here’. You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and climbed out of your car. By the time you made it to his front door, Eren was swinging it open, a goofy smile on his face.

“Just us tonight?” you asked, referring to the lack of cars in the driveway as you glided through the entryway.

“Yeah, feeling greedy. We haven’t hung out just us in awhile,” Eren smirked, leaning back and letting his eyes travel down your spine as you slid by him. He reached and pulled the door closed, locking it quickly and following quickly behind you.

You spent most of your nights here, knowing the pathway to Eren’s room. You jogged up the stairs, oblivious to Eren’s eyes trained in on your bouncing ass in your loose fitted shorts. His bedroom door was wide open, and you navigated over clothes thrown haphazardly on his floor to his unmade bed. You bounced as you sat down, hitting the mattress with your full weight and unzipping your bag, picking out your favorite bowl. Eren lifted the corner of his mouth, clearly amused at how at home you had made yourself.

“Comfy?” he asked, a teasing tone to his voice as he joined you on the bed, rolling tray and jar of bud in hand.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyeing Eren’s hands as they set quickly to work. His grinder sat on the bed behind him, and after picking out a few clusters of green from the jar, he reached behind him and popped the top off, going through the motions of getting prepped for the smoke session. “What’d you do today?”

Eren shot you a dumb founded look, “It’s 4/20, what do you think I’ve been doing all day?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up in surrender, “Just making a joke, asshole.”

He chuckled, extending his hand out so you could pass him your bowl, packing it not long after. Eren looked around his mattress for a lighter, eyebrows drawn together as he couldn’t find one. You smirked then, extending the black lighter you had packed in your bag, and Eren smiled gratefully. He flicked the lighter once it was in his possession, pointer finger resting over the choke as he placed the pipe to his lips, inhaling deeply as the fresh green turned to ash. He lifted his long finger off the choke hole, removing the pipe as he held the smoke in for a few seconds, eyes instantly glazing as he exhaled.

Eren was one of those smokers that the second he had a hit of weed, it was written all over his face that he was high, even if he wasn’t. When Eren picked up the habit in highschool, his parents knew instantly what the boy had been doing during his “study sessions” with his friends. Now that he was an adult and moved out of his childhood home, Eren was pretty free in his indulgences, no longer carrying around eye drops to try and help him appear as innocent as possible.

After his second hit, Eren passed you back your bowl and lighter, coughing lightly as he exhaled, “What about you? What’d you do today?”

“Not much, spent all day watching documentaries and smoking my vape,” you laughed lightly, positioning the pipe to your own lips.

Eren’s eyes drank in the sight of your pretty plump lips as they wrapped around the tip of the pipe, fingers copying his as you bent your finger over the choke. The lighter ignited after a single flick, warm colored flames illuminating your face. It was like Eren was watching you in slow motion, but it was always like that with you, even when he wasn’t high. He could see the fire in your eyes as they focused downwards to your actions, and Eren felt his mouth go dry. You pulled the bowl away, making eye contact with him as the smoke exited your lips, licking your face as it traveled towards the ceiling on your exhale.

The two of you made small talk as you passed the bowl back and forth, Eren making a face once the bud was dead. He packed another bowl, repeating the rotation until that one was dead. The two of you thoroughly fried, he put the pipe on his bedside table and leaned his back against the wall by his bed. You mirrored him, resting your head on his broad shoulder as the two of you enjoyed each other’s company.

“We should make edibles this weekend,” you suggested, fingers playing with the drawstring of your hoodie. “Maybe invite the group over and get zooted and play a game or something.”

“Zooted?” Eren snorted. “I haven’t heard that word in years, grandma.”

You shot Eren a glare, which he began to laugh at, “I’m hip, okay? Zooted is making a comeback.”

“Stop trying to fit in with the youth, Myrtle,” he teased, wrapping his arm around your waist to tuck you into his side. “Man, if I was only 50 years older.”

You lightly elbowed his side, “You wish you could bag 70 year old me. I’m a fucking catch.”

“I wish I could bag you period,” Eren confessed, probably for the hundredth time of you knowing him. “How come you’ve never let me take you out?”

“Because, you’d just fuck and dump me and then I wouldn’t have a plug anymore,” you pouted, purposefully snuggling in closer.

“Is that what you really think?” he asked seriously, positioning his neck to the side so he could look down at you.

You looked up, centimeters apart from his face, “That’s what you did with all the other girls.”

“But you’re my best friend,” Eren frowned, taking his hand and pushing your hair behind your ear. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

“Don’t know if I wanna’ really find that out,” you smiled sadly.

“C’mon, let me prove it to you,” Eren licked his lips. “Fuck me, right now, and I’ll take you out tomorrow.”

You felt a pulse in your pussy suddenly, gulping spit down as you broke the eye contact, “I don’t know ‘Ren. We’ve been friends since highschool, what if it makes things weird?”

“You can’t look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you’ve never thought about it, about us,” his voice was a hare above a whisper. “Because I think about it all the time. ‘Is why I hit you up all the time, I like you stupid, I always have.”

This confession was so different from all the other ones. Eren was practically begging to let him in between your legs on a weekly basis, ever since you had met him. Never once had he been this honest though, so genuine sounding about his feelings. He had a point as well, you thought about being with him all the time. You were always at his house or going out somewhere together, you spent all your free time with him, of course you would have feelings for Eren.

“If,” you started, your eyes blinking rapidly as you returned your gaze to his red ones. “I say yes, and things are weird after, we’re going to pretend like this never happened and we go back to being friends.”

“Deal.”

Eren’s lips crashed into your’s, any and all hesitation rolling off your body as you eagerly returned his kiss. His other arm circled you, bringing you in somehow even closer to him as your hands grabbed both of his cheeks, feeling the flex of his jaw as you smashed your lips together. Eren’s hand traveled under the hem of your sweatshirt to the small of your back, guiding you to sit in his lap. Legs on either side of his hips, your tongues slipped through the both of your lips, meeting in the middle.

Maybe it was the high, maybe it was Eren, but the throbbing in your cunt only expanded as Eren smoothed his hands all over the middle of your torso. They traveled up to the swell of your breasts, free from a bra, cupping both tits in his large hands. His thumbs slid and teased your nipples, hardening instantly under his touch. You arched your back, pushing your chest into his palms even more, your hips flicking as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

You both moaned into each other’s mouths at the roll of your hips, feeling Eren’s dick harden fast underneath your clothed center. Eren had been wearing a pair of thin grey sweatpants, leaving not much to the imagination while he was in this state. You felt his lips scrape against your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking gently. He released it, a string of saliva linking to the two of you together.

“I’ve been imagining this for forever,” Eren’s eyes were glazed and deep red when you met his gaze. “I just never thought this would happen.”

“I’ve been wanting you too,” you admitted, your dirty little secret exposed.

He smirked at your confession, hands still toying with your breasts. Silencing you once more with his passionate kiss, he moved his hands downwards and to your back until he met the waistband of your shorts. He easily slid under the hem, gripping your ass in his palms, kneading and spreading you apart. You felt your pussy flutter, the indirect contact sending you into a deep pit of arousal, your senses heightened greatly.

It was like Eren could read your mind, and his fingers traveled to your spread cunt over his lap, running a finger over your slit over your panties. You whined, pressing your hips down to achieve a greater pressure from his hand, in turn allowing your wetness to seep through the cotton of your panties. Eren chuckled against your lips, reading your body language loud and clear. He pushed the fabric aside, allowing his knuckles to brush directly into your folds. You moaned into his mouth as he spread your arousal around your vulva. When his thumb bumped against your clit, you felt your patience snap entirely.

“‘Ren, need your fingers, now,” you panted, eyes half lidded as his kiss traveled to the underside of your jaw.

“You got it, baby girl,” he hummed into your skin. There was no resistance as he pushed his middle finger into your opening. “Fuck, you’re fucking soaked. This all for me?”

You couldn’t find your voice, nodding and whining out as he pumped his single digit into your pussy. His touch was slow, deliberate, trying to memorize every single ridge and flutter of your walls as you pulsed around him. Eren’s mouth was dry, dick hard and throbbing, completely lost in the feeling of you sucking his finger in deeper. He couldn’t comprehend the fact that his cock would be replacing his fingers soon, finally fucking you like he had imagined for years now.

His middle finger dared to pull out, and you let out a desperate whine, thinking that was his plan. You gasped in relief and pleasure as his ring finger pushed past your entrance, clenching tightly on his fingers. Eren found solace in this, perceiving your flutters as permission to go finger fuck you at an ungodly pace. He positioned his wrist as a more comfortable angle, and his fingers pumped inside of you at the speed of light.

Your eyebrows came together, mouth hanging open as you squeaked and whined, Eren’s other hand finding purchase on your jaw. He squeezed your cheeks together lightly, forcing your lips to pout as he maintained direct eye contact with you. His own lips hung open, and you could see your reflection in his blown out pupils. It only enticed you more, you looked heavenly. Eren couldn’t have worded it before himself if you had verbalized this, whole heartedly agreeing with you.

“You’re so tight,” Eren groaned out, his hand leaving your chin and slipping two fingers in between your lips. “Suck, baby.”

You did as you were told, Eren’s fingers slowing to fuck up into roughly, hitting your sweet spot over and over. Your tongue circled around his knuckles, lips vibrating on his fingers as your moans were silenced. Eren was thoroughly enjoying himself, seeing you completely under his control like this. You were putty in the palm of his hands, literally.

He slid his fingers out of your cunt so suddenly, feeling the gush of your arousal against your inner thighs as his hand left your shorts. His other hand fell out of your mouth, moving back to your jaw as you felt the wetness of your spit spread across your face. Eren brought the hand he was fucking you with to his own mouth, and you were practically drooling at the sight of him sucking your pussy juices off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he cooed after he pulled them from his lips. “Just like I always imagined.”

You took this as your opportunity to remove some of your clothing. You tugged your hoodie over your head, tossing it on the floor. Eren followed suit, removing his own white t-shirt and reattaching his lips to yours. You tasted hints of yourself, not at all repulsed, in fact the exact opposite. You tasted sweet, tart but sweet.

You pushed yourself away from Eren, scooting off his lap in order to tear off your shorts and panties. Eren mirrored you, almost ripping his pants and boxers off as he slid them past his thighs and ankles to the floor. He remained in his seated position, eyes swirling and fingers twitching at his sides as he watched your crawl back to him. You placed a sloppy kiss to his lips before turning your body around, placing your feet on the mattress on either side of his lap. Sat in a full crouch now, you grabbed Eren’s cock, pumping him a few times with both of your hands in a screw motion. He moaned from behind you, his own hands gripping your ass cheeks to support your frame.

You guided Eren to your hovering pussy, teasing your clit, soaking him in your dripping heat. He cursed underneath you, his right hand moving to your hip as you lowered yourself on his length. Eren groaned loudly as the feelings of satisfaction and relief flowed through his body, his own heightened senses taking over. You moved to rest on your knees when you felt Eren bottom out inside of you, a string of moans and whimpers leaving your lips. You arched your back and Eren leaned back more, eyes stationed on your beautiful round ass.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he ran a hand up to the back of your head, untangling your messy bun so your hair fell free down your back. “C’mon baby, bounce on my dick.”

You lifted your hips, slamming down to his pelvis urgently. It was so overwhelming, the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim making your brain empty. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open dumbly as drool coated the swell of your lips. You bounced again, and Eren yanked your hair back as he watched your pussy stretch around him, close to snapping and drilling into you as he saw the creamy ring form around his base. You were a moaning mess, unable to think clearly as your body took over. Pushing all your weight into your knees and palms resting on Eren’s thighs, you fastened your pace, ass bouncing every time Eren’s fat tip brushed up against your cervix.

You felt the sharp sting on your cheek and heard the resounding slap of his hand on your right cheek, tears springing to your eyes, “Fuck, Eren, you feel so good.”

Taking your hips into his strong hands, Eren was finally at his brink as he thrusted hard up into. You yelped, letting yourself go limp as he slammed into your cunt at a dangerous pace. He was in full control now, fucking you into a stupor.

Your hand left it’s home of his thigh, traveling to your aching center to rub your clit. Eren’s position was perfect, rubbing the underside of his shaft against your g-spot. When you opened your eyes, you could see his toes curling, legs flexing and twitching. He wasn’t going to last long, your pussy putting him under a spell. You circled your clit with your pointer and middle fingers, throat raw from all the noises escaping you. All you felt was Eren, all you could hear was Eren, he was filling your entire being up, replacing any and all thoughts they may have lingered in your brain.

“Gonna’ cum,” you whined, fingers moving even faster.

“I’m so fucking close, fucking cum baby,” Eren growled, thrusts desperate and becoming irregular.

You stilled above him, a breathless scream heaving from your throat as you gushed around him. Your pussy clenched so tight, and Eren couldn’t hold back. Because as empty as your brain was, Eren was in the exact same state as he shot his thick load into you, filling your tight cunt up with his cum. You milked his cock, walls convulsing in your mind blowing orgasm. Black spots appeared in your vision when you realized you had forgotten to breathe, you took a deep gasp of air.

You were a panting, sweaty mess hovering over him. Eren was in awe, watching beads of his white seed leak out of your center. He’d worry about the consequences when his brain could comprehend what had just happened, but for now, the deep primal urge of filling you up was sedated. Eren didn’t think he could’ve imagined fucking you for the first time any better than this. And when you finally lifted your hips to release him, he felt a wave of sadness, your beautiful pussy no longer surrounding him.

“Did you, oh my God, Eren,” you lifted your hand in front of you, seeing the creamy white of his cum smeared on your fingers. “You came inside of me?”

“Sorry, baby,” he caught his breath as you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning, promise.”

“I’m on the pill, but still,” you huffed, letting the anger leave you as you realized Eren would take responsibility. “You didn’t know that.”

Eren laughed without humor, “Oh well, at least I know for next time. Now c’mere, wanna’ hold you while I roll a blunt.”

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.