#please share your thoughts and prayers in the comments

[little-diable]

Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him. 

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home. 

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. 

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower. 

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance. 

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing. 

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath. 

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them. 

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment. 

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own. 

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest. 

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind. 

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment. 

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again. 

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her. 

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her? 

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her. 

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it. 

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand. 

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest. 

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest. 

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more. 

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him. 

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.” 

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night. 

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible. 

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement. 

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest. 

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy. 

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to  suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body. 

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring. 

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him. 

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months. 

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her. 

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements. 

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them. 

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find. 

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path. 

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her. 

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment. 

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge. 

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see. 

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing. 

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her. 

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

[m0llygunn]

the alligator and the weirdo (eddie munson x fem!reader)

eddie shares some of his imaginative thoughts that he has during intimate moments

cw: 18+! mature language, smut, oral (f receiving), eddie being an absolute weirdo (affectionate) an: i was reading comments on an ig post months ago and there were so many guys who were talking about the alligator thing so yeah thanks random instagram guys for this idea wc: 2.2k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Wanna hear something that you’ll hate?” 

Turning your head, you look at Eddie laying the short distance away from you in the bed. The rubix cube that was keeping him busy has been tossed to the side and he smiles toothily at you, brows wiggling as he awaits your answer. Bad news— abort immediately.  

“No,” you answer flatly. You move your book to block his view of you but he quickly tugs it away, tucking it under his arm. 

“Well, apple of my eye, love of my life,” he starts, smiling wider than ever. You don't even bother trying to get your book back, you know it's no use. Mawkishly corny, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it and you know whatever he's about to say is going to be awful with the way he's working up to it. He looks up at you, “Today is your lucky day, because I’m going to tell you anyway,” he finishes. 

“Is it actually something I’m going to hate?” you sigh.

“Yes,” he smiles, thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand that he continues to hold, keeping it hostage in his grip.

You pause, desperately trying to read him. He doesn’t give much away, just that he’s up to no good. 

Unsure and honestly afraid, you tilt your head, “but is it going to piss me off?” you ask, needing a sincere answer. 

“You won’t be angry, per se” he replies, voice pitching up with his dramatics.

“Then why would I hate it?” you retort. 

He shrugs so boyishly you almost forget to keep up your attitude. “You’re just going to hate it,” he sings matter of factly. 

“Eddie,” you whine. He squeezes your hand to his chest, rolling his eyes at you playfully. 

Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night, he promised you that. It was supposed to be quiet and chill– you were going to read, and he was going to… do something? Anything that he could do quietly. Obviously, he's changed his mind and has now resorted to teasing you. 

“Fine, fine, you got me— I’ll tell you,” he huffs as if you’ve threatened him. Dramatic, dramatic, dramatic.  

Speaking of dramatic, you swat him lightly for his antics, smacking your free hand to his chest and he overreacts, throwing his head back into the pillow with a pained howl. His face, scrunched up in faux pain, quickly changes to a desperate plea, eyes wide and brows turning up. 

“No! Please, I already said I’d tell you. Please, no need for violence— I’ll tell you!” he rushes out, putting his hands together in a prayer to you. With a shake of your head, disapproving his boisterous behaviour, you hold back your smile by biting your lip. 

“I’m going home,” you threaten. With your hand free from his grasp seeing as he has resorted to pleaing prayers, you move to roll over him to get off the bed. 

“No, you can’t!” he reacts quickly, grabbing both your wrists and pulling them to his chest, keeping you pulled taut against him. “You can’t go, I haven’t told you yet.”

“So spit it out,” you whine. 

“Fine,” he huffs with a played up annoyance. He rolls his eyes and you purse your lips in disbelief. Disbelief for the moment, disbelief for the mood he's in. 

“Just sit here, and I’ll tell you, okay?” he smirks, dropping his grasp on your wrists but quickly grabbing your legs, pulling at you until your knees bracket his hips and you’re straddling him. You don't resist, figuring that if it truly is something you hate, you'll have the extra leverage to throw yourself off the bed and book it out of his room. 

Shooting him a quick warning look, he finally gets to telling you his oh-so-anticipated thought. 

“So,” he begins. “You know when I’m eating you out?”

Blinking your eyes slowly, you resist throwing yourself off the bed already. Definitely not the direction you thought this was going in.

Eddie smiles up at you, waiting for your answer. 

“Yes, I think I’m quite familiar with that, thank you,” you respond, keeping your voice purposefully flat. 

“Well, you know when I’m eating you out and I’m just doing such a good job that you can’t stay still?”

“Eddie,” you laugh. He raises his brows, awaiting your answer yet again to continue. “Yes. Yes, I am also quite familiar with that.”

“And when you can’t stay still, I hold your hips?”

“Eddie, I swear to god you better spit it out,” you huff, trying to hold back your laugh as you smack a flat palm to his chest again. He grins at you, eyes excited and filled with amusement. 

“So, I’m eating you out, holding your hips, and then you’re still squirming around everywhere so I’m like, wrestling you?”

“You’re not wrestling me,” you laugh.

“But I am,” he smiles, raising a brow at you. 

“You’re not… you’re just holding me,” you offer abashedly. He shakes his head with verve, and you nod your own head contradictingly. With a small wave of his hand, he continues. 

“Well, just wait for the next part,” he smiles. “So I’m wrestling you, and then your legs start closing around my head—”

“Okay.” you interrupt. “I think that’s enough,” you say, feeling your cheeks start to heat up from his brashness. Obviously you know how the whole event goes, you don't need him to break it down for you in a play by play. 

“No, I’m finally getting to it!” he laughs, hands squeezing at your hips. 

You flash him a forced annoyed glare, prompting him to continue with a lift of your brows. He dips his head in a nod, smirking, and he finally delivers his punchline, words dripped in glee and an air of proudness. 

“Whenever your legs start squeezing my head, sometimes I pretend I’m holding open the jaws of an alligator.”

“What?” you scoff, eyes narrowing in confusion. Surely you heard him wrong. 

“It’s true,” he nods matter-of-factly. “I imagine a big ol’ alligator trying to clamp my head in it’s jaw, and I’m fighting for my life, trying to hold its mouth open,” he repeats, holding his arms out wide, energetically miming the struggle of keeping an alligator's jaw open. 

So you didn't hear him wrong?

That’s what he’s thinking about when he’s giving you head? 

Mortifying. Shocking. Not surprising— it is Eddie after all. 

He finds your right hand, laying it down flat to his chest, pressing it firmly with both his hands overtop of it. Grounding you to him— nope— making sure you don’t leave is more like it.

“You’re strong, you know that?” he says with wide eyes. “You prance around here, needing me to open jars, and carry your bags, but I swear to god you’re stronger than me. Super-strength,” he says with a wiggle of his brows. 

“You… you are so…” You’re at a loss of words. All you can do is shake your head, and feel your mouth go dry as you stare at him, astonished that this is what he decided to tell you. Never in a million years would you have guessed that’s what he’s thinking.

He opens his mouth and it only gets worse. “Sometimes I pretend it’s a bear trap too,” he adds.

“Stop.”

“Or it’s like Excalibur. You know Excalibur don't you? Its like I’m King Arthur and keeping your legs open is like I’m pulling the sword from the stone—”

“Stop,” you say with a more bewildered urgency, pressing your palm to his mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile, crows feet deepening as he looks at you, eyes squinting with his amusement. 

He mumbles something under your hand but you can’t make it out— you don’t want to make it out. 

“Weird. You’re weird. You’re so weird.” you finally spit out through your shock. He licks your palm and you pull away with a repulsed squeal, wiping the dampness onto his shirt. 

“I make you cum, don’t I?” he asks, smug as ever. 

“But why are you thinking of that while you’re doing it?” you ask, riddled with mystified shock. 

“I don’t know… just kind of thought of it one day and went with it,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of good though– distracts me from blowing my load before I’ve even got it in.”

With heavy blinks, you give yourself a minute to absorb what he’s just told you. Closing your gaping mouth, you swallow back your bafflement. This was supposed to be a relaxing night– not Eddie baring his weird soul night. 

“Well… you were right, I hate it.”

“You love it,” he grins. 

“Hate it,” you emphasize. 

“Oh, but you love me, don’t you?” he retorts with his un-wipeable grin.

“We’re getting divorced.”

“Is this you saying you wanna get married? ‘cause we gotta get married first if you want a divorce,” he smirks, grabbing at your sides, tickling you. Taking his hands in your grasp, you stop him before he can really get started with the tickling, pushing his hands away and returning them to his chest with your so-called ‘super-strength’.

“I’m giving you two choices Munson– you take me home right now, or we stop talking about this,” you say with the best sternness you can muster. Oh to be reading your book peacefully, cuddling in the quietness of the room that was once promised to you. 

He doesn't like your ultimatum, you can tell right away with the way his face drops. 

“But you were gonna stay the night,” he pouts, purposefully over-jetting out his lower lip.

“Yeah and I want to stay the night,” you respond, tilting your head at him. 

“So stay the night,” he nearly whines. Like a punishment, you let him sit in his pout for an extra moment. You could hope that he's thinking over where this all went wrong, but you know he's not. Under all that pout he's still smug as hell, it's in his nature. 

“Are you going to keep talking about your weirdo imagination?” you finally break the silence.

“I thought you liked my imagination?” he says, lower lip pushing out even further, trembling slightly as he continues his overdramatic pouting, his eyes round with an innocence that he could never possess.  

“I do,” you promise. “But not when it’s working overtime while you're going down on me. I’m not an alligator or a bear trap… or some magical sword and stone— Eddie literally who thinks of that?” you can’t help but smile, shaking your head with a regrettable mirth. 

“See, I’m funny. You’re laughing.” Smug.

“You’re weird.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later that night…

His tongue flits back and forth, sending shock waves of pleasure through your system. 

“You like that?” he hums against you. 

“G-good. Really good,” you reply through huffed breaths. Your stomach tenses, breaths staggering as you feel your impending orgasm approaching. 

You stayed the night, no surprise to you or Eddie. One thing led to another, and hours later, your earlier conversation long forgotten, Eddie was between your thighs, racking pleasure throughout your whole body with his tongue on your clit.

His fingers pushed deep inside of you, massage upwards, stroking against your walls, rubbing perfectly at that euphoria inducing spot— you can’t take it, it feels too good, too much. 

Your hands, weaved into his hair, resort to an odd combination of pushing him away and pulling him forward. Running from the pleasure but chasing it at the same time. 

His lips seal over your clit, sucking, mimicking the throb that trembles through your body. You go ridgid, sliding over your tipping point. Your legs tense, closing inwards as your body gives in to instinct, not having a single thought in your brain at the moment. Every muscle tenses harshly before your spasm begins, limbs shaking and moving all at their own accord.

Hips stuttering, jolting back and forth with your release, a heavy hand closes around your thigh, pinning it to the bed.

“The alligator! She’s back,” Eddie exclaims but you have less than a microbe of steady consciousness to parse his words properly. His fingers continue wiggling inside of you, thumb moving itself to your clit as he continues busying his mouth with his ramblings that you’re too foggy headed to understand. You think for a moment there might have been a pirate impression with an argh, but that can't be right. 

A deep, sputtering inhale, your lungs fill, clearing your lust filled brain. His movements slow, and your body relaxes little by little, melding into the mattress until you’re just a puddle of a person. 

“And that’s another win for me,” Eddie announces smugly.

“Hm?” you hum, still in a daze.

“I defeated the alligator— yet again.” he says boisterously.

You blink your eyes open to see Eddie smirking from cheek to arousal glistening cheek. At first, what he said doesn’t make sense, but then it all clicks.

An absolute loss of words. You’ve never been so dumbfounded to not have a single word— not even earlier when he first brought up his colorful, unusual thoughts. Never. 

Eddie recognizes this because he lets himself fall to your side, pulling you into him, maneuvering you like a rag doll until you're halfways on his chest, face to face, wrapping his arm around your waist.  

“You know I’m funny,” he teases, stealing a kiss from you. He pulls back, looking beyond pleased with himself. “You love me,” he sings with a cheesy grin, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Full of mortification and disconcertment, your love for him is undeniable. You love him through and through, and unfortunately that includes his inopportune imagination. 

“I’m in love with an absolute weirdo,” you confess. 

──────────── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ty for reading!

[turnaboutfix]

Oh yes of course!!!

I meant specifically like her very early concept art (blue haired) and like, one of the first ones where she has short hair (but still with those 2 loose locks at the front)? I hope you know which one I'm talking about lolol

BUT if you wanna speak your thoughts on like. All of them. I want to hear 👂❓️

( @ellivcca asked what I thought about Maya's concept art and I replied in priv if they could be more specific)

Let's talk about Maya's designs! ✨

I will skip the blue-haired art for now, since I have more to say about her other early designs. They're in a few Japanese AA Guidebooks, but "逆転裁判2 真相解明マニュアル", or "Gyakuten Saiban 2: Fact-Finding Manual" has the most in one place. There are blurbs that discuss the designs, and I'll do my best to summarize them. My Japanese isn't amazing and I had to mostly rely on machine translation + cross referencing dictionaries, so it's possible I may be inaccurate. Also, I'm a novice at Japanese culture, so if I'm misrepresenting anything please bring this to my attention and I'll correct things accordingly!

The book acknowledges that Maya was intended to be of high-school age, hence the the sailor suit artwork. They seem to suggest that the loose socks was a hint at Maya's spunky personality.

When they began to explore her as a spirit medium (1), they wanted her to come from a wealthy, noble family. It looks like a lot of these explorations made it to Franziska's design, with some of the shapes of the shoulders and the jabot-looking neck wear, which is interesting!

As they kept exploring in the second round of sketches (2), they stressed traditional/folk dress as being an important part of her design. They noted they had her carrying something on her back at the time, which I think hints more to her "folksy" feel.

The beaded necklace she's wearing in (2) are drawn from Mala bead necklaces, which are prayer beads rooted in Hinduism and Buddhism and are said to help focus the mind during meditation. They seem present in a lot of spiritual figures in Japan.

Later (3), they explicitly comment drawing inspiration from the Matagi, a group of hunting clans in the northern Japanese mountains (be careful looking them up, they do bear hunting and there's a lot of explicit imagery, even on the wikipedia).

They comment on that this version of her early character might be very athletic. She also seems to be more stoic in these explorations.

Then, for (4) and (5), they evolved the design to make it look appear more feminine, giving her long hair, but making a note that her look isn't typical of modern people. The large orbs in (3), (4) and (5) I think are supposed be drawn from "Yuigesa"(結袈裟), or harnesses decorated with pom-poms worn by Shugendō practitioners, hermits who live in the mountains and practice asceticism.

Then in (6), they added the magatama and committed to her having black hair. They note shortening the hem of her costume from design (5).

The magatama addition is pretty significant! Magatama necklaces are used by noro priestesses of the Ryukyu Kingdom from the islands in the very south of Japan.

Their religion broadly speaking, involves ancestor worship and the relationships between the living and dead, gods and spirits. It seems to me like the culture in Kurain Village draws a lot from the Ryukyuan people--and you can even see this with the beads along with the magatamas.

But there seems to be a lot of generic imagery of Spirit Mediums that I've been able to find in Japanese media which have shared elements of design in Maya's final design. The most interesting of these to me is "ほんとにあった!霊媒先生", or "It Really Happened! Spirit Medium Teacher". The design similarities are striking (and make me wonder if Maya was an inspiration?)

So, to summarize it all up, it seems like the early designers (and there were only two! Kumiko Suekane and Tatsuro Iwamoto) wanted a character who was different, folksy, feminine and spunky that displayed unique spiritual power to aid in the narrative/game mechanics of the games, and they explored the different facets of their own culture--from the northern Matagi clans to the southern Ryukyuan people--Japanese iconography, and tastes into Maya's final design.

And I think that's Real Neat. :)

Thoughts about other designs (Blue-Haired/SoJ Maya) under the cut cuz oh my gosh this post is already huge.

Blue haired Maya!

What's interesting to me is that a lot of the design language on this early Maya art seems to have been carried over to Ema's design (glasses, boots, coat/skirt). She also has similar vibes to Lynne from Ghost Trick.

I definitely enjoy Maya's final design a lot better, but I like the triadic color harmony and spunk here!

And then her design update in Spirit of Justice! These concepts are from "逆転裁判6 公式ビジュアルブック", or "Gyakuten Saiban 6: Official Visual Book". :)

Takuro Fuse (the character designer) comments that he never drew Maya before when he took a stab at updating her, so he wanted to get that down first before tackling the designs. He wondered how she would change over the course of 11 years, and first experimented with a design, thinking about how Mia would look like as a spirit medium. He thought it would be interesting if Phoenix wouldn't be able to tell if Maya channeled Mia. (Me too tbh.)

I feel like this design has a bit too much going on, but I do like the longer cream colored sleeves!

Takuro talks more about how he was exploring all sorts of designs before landing on something more simple. He wanted her to have what he called a "traveling costume" and was very fond of the hat. These designs seem to pull from similar places I've discussed with Maya's early designs, as well as Japanese pilgrims.

As fun as the additions and changes to her design are, I think it was very smart to just add subtle changes: the longer robes, jacket, and the additional beads to her necklace. The shawl is a nice touch, too. This reflects how post-7yg Phoenix and Edgeworth also have subtle changes to their designs as well, which I love and I think were very smart moves from a design-perspective as well as personal taste. Their designs are very iconic and I think it was a service to maintain that iconography.

This was a very fun thing to explore! Thank you kindly @ellivcca for the ask!

[kalki-tarot]

[ 🦋 ] CHANNELED MESSAGES FROM YOUR DIVINE COUNTERPART ♡

Pick a pile ✧.*

🪼 : from left to right — Instinctively select the picture that feels right to you, whether based on your thoughts or the desires of your inner self. Choose the one that resonates with you, keeping in mind that this reading is meant to be general in nature and may not resonate with everyone.

🪼 : Disclaimer — The images I used to select a pile were sourced from Pinterest, I hope the reading will deeply resonate with you. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make in your life from my readings. I'm just a beginner and these readings are just for fun.

I DON'T DO PAID READINGS. CHECK MASTERLIST FOR FREE READINGS.

PILE 1. ✧.*

"You're the brightest star in my universe."

"When I look at you, every other thing disappears for me."

"I would offer you all the love, possessions, etc. I have"

"I'm manifesting you right now."

"I'm working on myself right now."

"Please send me prayers and give me strength as I someone broke my heart and gave me lots of pain."

"I have a lot of options (?)."

"I'm manifesting new opportunities for us."

Please comment if it resonated ♡

PILE 2. ✧.*

"I get butterflies whenever I look at you."

"I can't take my eyes off you, sweetheart."

"You are magical."

"I daydream about you. And even at night, I think and manifest you."

"I watch tarot readings about you."

"I want a new start between us."

"I'm scared of self sabotaging this relationship."

"I'll nurture you and take care of you like a mother."

PILE 3. ✧.*

"I'm heart broken right now."

"Please give me strength."

" The universe wants us together." "I'm tired of working."

"I'm becoming more financially abundant for you/us."

"I'm fighting my way to you."

"I'm currently facing battles in my life."

"I love you."

PILE 4. ✧.*

"I wander in these lonely streets searching for you."

"Maybe I've seen you somewhere before."

"We know each other from our past lives."

"I can't say a lot of things to you right now."

"The divine is currently making me choose between two different things/people/situations."

"I have to take charge of my own life."

"Please be my light and show me the way outta here."

" i think about you a lot."

Please share your feedback in the comments! Thanks for reading, may the divine bless you and bring you happiness.

[81folklore]

happiness - CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x ex!reader (fc: sabrina carpenter + pintrest) part 2

summary: releasing a song about your ex might finally stop the rumors surrounding your breakup (or: you release happiness about your ex charles leclerc)

authors note: this is my first ever post (and social media au) so please bear with me as im still figuring this all out!!) i dont use proper grammer and may mispell things!! the song ‘happiness’ by taylor is one of my faves so i had to use it, i am interpreting the song in a very specific way to fit the story! i do not own ‘happiness’ nor any song mentioned in this fic. it ended up longer than expected im so sorry😅

masterlist

yourusername

liked by annacathcart, henrymoodie and 1,550,456 others

its times like these wish i had a time machine,, i will miss you guys SO MUCH!! buuuut we are going international for the first time and i cannot wait to share my music with all you beautiful people🌟

see you soon paris & link for tickets in bio💌

view comments

user5 cannot wait to see you in paris!!

user7 this tour has been one of the best things to ever happen to me, cant wait to scream nonsense at you once again🫶

user10 genuinely cant stand her after what she put charles through

user9 what are you talking about? their breakup was mutual

user10 seems like she doesnt care which means it clearly hasnt affected her

henrymoodie so excited to be opening for you in europe!

yourusername youre in for a treat tour mate🫣

user2 sigh i miss her and landos interactions

charles_leclerc

liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc and 1,164,121 others

definitely not the result we were hoping for but thank you for making my home race as special as always, onto the next one!

view comments

user10 you tried your best which is all we ask

user3 i missed yn this week, home race didnt feel the same😔

user1 i thought it felt different, he seemed very distracted this weekend

user13 at least you finished the race (im coping badly)

user4 we love you charles keep pushing❤️🤍FORZA FERRARI

yourusername

liked by newhopegeorge, landonorris and 2,025,754 others

how am i supposed to leave you now that you’re already over..

paris you were so so lovely what did i do to deserve you guys :’) next stop brussels💌

view comments

user89 talented, brilliant, incredible, show stopping, spectacular, wonderful, amazing!!

user52 forever missing you💌

user71 ok but yn why were you teasing a new song at the show…

yourusername shhhh

landonorris super proud of you

yourusername thank youuu landooo

user2 my prayers have been answered woooo

user46 i feel like i missed something, are lando and yn friends?

user5 yeah! lando was how yn met charles and theyve been friends for a few years now

ynupdates

liked by user5, user16 and 13,456 others

yn on a new song she plans to release soon tonight at brussels ‘ive been writing a song for a while that really just helps explain the way ive been feeling these past few months, it was very therapeutic to write and ive really enjoyed the process!’ and when asked what the song was about she said ‘its about someone who will always mean alot to me, they know who they are and thats enough for me!’

she seemed very happy to be able to talk about it so expect more updates about that soon! next stop cologne, grab your tickets from the link in our bio💌

view comments

user5 i cannot wait for new music

user16 what if she performs it on tour huh? what then? WHAT THEN??

user15 it’s definitely about charles, she had that same smile she wore when talking about him previously☹️

yourusername

liked by vicdeangelis, lizzymcalpine, arthur_leclerc and 2,450,470 others

i cant make it go away by making you a villain, i guess its the price i paid for seven years in heaven…

view comments

user5 these have to be song lyrics right??

user7 sounds like it might be about charles🤨

user10 not more music about charles, at least he gets free promo from them..

arthur_leclerc we miss you

yourusername i miss you guys too!! come to a show soon?

[xappetites]

Cpt. John Price and the accidental cockwarming incident

a little angst, fluff, sexual references

it hits John, in the dark and non threatening noise of being home for once, how fucking nice it is to be held. He knows you have to be up in a couple hours for work but he’s been gone for too long and you’re kind enough to indulge him.

You’re soft and warm and he’s here far more sparsely than he’d like, so the time he spends in bed with you, he likes to spend inside you. It’s an impulse from the heart, not the gut. An ache to be as close as possible, enough that he can’t tell his skin from yours in the sacred centimeters between you.

Your sigh brushes sweet against his collarbone and something rises in him like a stream, dragging up the flotsam of his subconscious.

The thoughts he does his best not to have space for when he’s halfway across the globe. When he’s aching for your arms around him and your fiercely independent soul, your sharp eyes softening at the sight of him. He can’t help but wonder how he measures up against the new experiences, the people that are here everyday to share them with you.

How much can an absent husband really weigh in the full life you have?

John Price is not a man of prayer, he has no time or use for appeals to the universe or divinity or whatever might be listening. But he begs here, with your fingers drawing circles over the close crop at the back of his head and your hips rocking a barely there rhythm into his.

Please let her remember this, let her feel me when I can’t be here for her.

“What’s wrong?”

You whisper, so close he could taste it, tapping a thumb on his jaw to get his attention. And it isn’t until the drop slides across the bridge of his nose that he even realizes he’s been tearing up.

“Just missed you, love.”

John’s voice cracks against his will, that and the way he follows your face —stubbornly trying to keep your noses touching— tell you it’s not as simple as missing you, he’s aware.

“I missed you too.”

You just smile at him, hiking your leg higher over his flank and tightening your sweet cunt around him, a quick reassuring grasp like you’d do on his hand. It pulls a chuckle out of him that vibrates through your chest and comes as an echo out of your own mouth.

“I left the Champions on the other day, just to have the commentator chatter in the house.”

He tries not to stare. You, who don’t give a damn about football. Neither does he, being completely frank, he’s just come to associate it with not having to be on edge around the clock, with being home. And now you have, too.

You let him hide his face in the crook of your neck, tuck you tight into his body until any movement other than the good natured tensing of your inner muscles is virtually impossible.

I love you, he wants to say. But he can’t trust it not to break him, so he limits himself to rubbing his beard on your skin to make you laugh. Groaning out your name in bursts of stimulation.

And when you fall asleep like that, with no other pleasure than being joined, neither of you could find it in you to complain.

[bestedoesmeow]

Charles Leclerc X Y/N

Instagram Au

Charles's yearning becomes stronger every day since his girlfriend is ill and can't attend his final race before the holiday break. But he is finally able to fly to his lover's hometown.

f1newss

liked by user5 and others

tagged : charles_leclerc

Leclerc sent his girlfriend, Y/N, a message through our cameras, he also mentioned that the two would be reunited soon. He seemed quite tired but happy as well while talking about the past season and Ferrari.

View all 124 comments

user13 : He is a cutie pie, look at that little heart :,)

user15 : Anyone knows why she couldn't make it?

user6 : I heard she got covid so she probably is in quarantine :/

user16 : Poor Y/N I hope she gets well soon.

user25 : Definetly a boyfriend material SHE IS LUCKY...

-MEANWHILE, MESSAGES-

yourusername ( private account )

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 456 others

tagged : charles_leclerc

Our boy has arrived, y/l/n family couldn't be happier. We got lots to gossip about, welcome home Percival @charles_leclerc

View all 37 comments

lorenzotl : Have fun children, don't even consider sharing our family secrets Charlie😜

yourusername : He already has... His mouth is not so tight🤐

liked by lorenzotl

pierregasly : Poor dog, I bet poor thing can' t even breathe... charles_leclerc : Shut up Gasly yourusername : Make him 😋 ( in a seductive way) pierregasly : Yeah Leclerc, come on make me charles_leclerc : I can't compete with you two...

y/f/u/n : Welcome home Charles🎉 liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, esteban_ocon and 678.456 others

tagged : yourusername

A little bit ill, but still can gossip like a master, she is tired from all the chatter I guess, missed you amour ❤️

View all 567 comments

yourusername : You made me talk more than I thought, my throat is sore, you are the gossip master.

charles_leclerc : Maybe true?

user35 : We knew you were the real gossip when you asked Carlos to text Lando about the contract🙄

liked by y/u/n

user45 : The type of relationship I need...

alex_albon : Poor Y/N :( have a nice holiday guys!!

liked by charles_leclerc

Hey everyone!

The south-east of my country is totally ruined by the devastating earthquakes. People and animals there are hungry and cold; they need help. Lots of people are still under ruins and they are dying of hypothermia. Our rescue teams are not enough, and there are lots of people waiting to be rescued. People are trying their hardest to help them out, but it’s not enough. Lots of people are dying since they haven't been reached by the rescue teams, yet thousands of people died; it has nothing to do with international politics; this has nothing to do with karma; we are talking about thousands of innocent beings. Please be aware of the situation, send your prayers, we need your help. #prayforturkiye 🇹🇷

[jeonqkooks]

isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable. 

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned. 

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied. 

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read. 

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology. 

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents. 

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door. 

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed. 

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction. 

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing. 

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften. 

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing. 

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity. 

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom. 

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 07.05.2023]

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Marked Me Like a Bloodstain

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: "Wait," you whispered, "let go."

He did, and you laid him down flat on his back before leaning down on his middle and pressing a soft kiss to the scar. You traced it again, sketching designs of stars and infinity signs around it.

"I'm sorry you went through that," you whispered, and kissed it again, "but I'm glad you're here."

He kept eye contact with you as you did this, and although he'd never admit it, a slight mist lined his eyes. "Me too, baby. Me too."

Warnings: all fluff, Joel's insecure (what's new), descriptions of blood and getting impaled (also what's new), kissing, references to oral sex, major descriptions of scars, please think before you read.

A/N: title feel familiar to anyone else? (I made this title before the breakup rumors I'm so sorry)

Word Count: 1.5k

Pedro Masterlist

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(Gif credit to owner)

The rise and fall of Joel's chest was even underneath your cheek, but the rhythm of his heart was not. With each drag of your nail across his sternum, pecks, and stomach, his heart would escalate and cascade, in perfect tempo with your fingertips. It was like a song, it never ceased to follow, and you couldn't help but smile into his warm skin after a particularly apparent inflation.

A flush of heat on his neck told you he noticed too.

"Somethin' funny," he asked with a chuckle, causing you to only giggle louder into his neck.

"Yes,' you whispered against his pulse point, pecking it slightly.

“I ain’t even gonna try to play it off," he replied, "your fingers are drivin' me nuts."

You placed your free hand on his scruff-dusted cheek and pulled his pouty lips to yours, making him groan delectably as his pointer finger continued its task of tracing over any and every inch of your exposed back.

You were never going to leave his bed.

Your nude body was warm against his own--a mix of the warm meal the two of you had shared and the slowly cooling summer night--as he kissed you back. Usually, on a night like this, you would taste each other until the sun rose, and do it once more for good measure, but not tonight.

Tonight was a jewel, an artifact, a golden crown. It was one of the rare nights that all Joel wanted to do was lie next to you, talk about anything and everything, and just be.

You pulled away and pecked his nose before tucking yourself back into his chest, sighing with relief, but never removing your eyes from his face. These nights were your favorites, purely because you could stare at him endlessly, and memorize him enough that, even in your old age, you would still be able to picture every detail of his face.

The sharpness of his jaw, the streaks of grey in his dark brown hair, the patchiness of his stubble, the exact arch of his nose, the slight wooden hint in his scent, and the drips of honey in his eyes when the setting sun hit them just right.

Naked, in every sense of the word. Your addiction to it would surely be the death of you.

Your fingers continued their mission to feel every part of him as you stared up at him, and he stared down at you, likely committing every bit of you to memory the same way you were for him. You couldn't deny the flood of warmth that bloomed across your chest at the thought.

Your fingers continued their mission to feel every speck of skin on Joel Miller as they traveled lower and lower, and no matter how many nights you had done this, felt as much of him as you could, Joel always stiffened up when you did. Always. And this time was no different.

You had found that words never seemed to help him shred himself of his insecurities, no matter how poetic the prayers that fell from your lips.

It's me, Joel, only me.

Please, don't hide from me, baby.

I love you. Let me know you.

Nothing. It was when your lips were used for other purposes that Joel's body began to meld into the mattress.

As your fingers traced every mole, mark from the sun, freckle, and scar, your lips pressed a kiss onto his chest, bicep, neck, and face, alternating between them all. He exhaled, finally letting go, as his eyes fluttered shut.

"I love you," he whispered, eyes still closed but lips parted in rhapsody, "I love you."

You didn't respond with your words, only another kiss.

His deep breaths filled the air as your fingers made their way down, down, down to his lower stomach. They made it to the two moles above his belly button, one of your favorite places to admire on him, but as they made their way further and further to his left side, the muscles on his abdomen began to tighten, and his breaths shallowed.

You removed your lips from his collarbone at the feeling. "Joel--"

"No," he whispered huskily, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he said, "Keep goin'."

You nodded, and he pressed kiss after kiss to your hairline as your fingertips went from soft skin to a long stretch of indented, deeply textured skin. It was wide, and rugged, and old. You felt over every inch of it, noting how it felt deeper towards the center, but more soft on the edges.

You propped yourself up slightly to look at it; its stretch across his abdomen, its darkened tone, and how it was slightly raised from the rest of his tanned skin.

It was the biggest scar you had ever seen on his body, and in your life.

"How have I--" you began, looking back at his solemn face, "--how have I never noticed this before?"

"I never let you," he responded, his tone full of both disappointment and relief, "never wanted you to see it."

You couldn't help the tears that lined your eyes as you asked, "What happened?"

And he told you. Every detail. How it felt when the pipe entered his body, how it felt pushed up against his organs, and how it felt coming out. He described everything from that point on as hazed and muffled, except for the look of fear in Ellie's dark eyes.

"That's what kept me walking," he said, wiping the tears from your cheekbones as he spoke quietly, "her eyes. Her need for my heart to keep beatin'."

He described the next few months as dream-like, like he never really knew when he was awake or not, unaware what was real or figments of his imagination.

"It was hell," he said, "but she stayed with me through it all, and she's the reason I'm alive."

You nodded, understanding that in order to keep himself sane, he had to focus on Ellie's role in it, not his own.

Still, you couldn't hold your tongue as you said, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He shook his head at your tears and kissed your forehead once again. "S'alright, got some of the best sleep of my life."

You laughed breathily into his chest as he held you close, once again running his hands up and down your naked back as he did. He exhaled deeply, like he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, and you pressed a kiss to the middle of his sternum.

But you weren't done yet.

"Wait," you whispered, "let go."

He did, and you laid him down flat on his back before leaning down on his middle and pressing a soft kiss to the scar. You traced it again, sketching designs of stars and infinity signs around it.

"I'm sorry you went through that," you whispered, and kissed it again, "but I'm glad you're here."

He kept eye contact with you as you did this, and although he'd never admit it, a slight mist lined his eyes. "Me too, baby. Me too."

You laid down on top of him, completely letting your body weight onto his, and tucked yourself into his neck once again. You always loved how well it fit there. His hands went up into your hair to massage your scalp, and you practically hummed.

"I don't mind bein' scarred," he said into your hair after a few beats of silence, "means I'm still survivin', and that means I'm still with you."

You smiled against him, and the unique silence of understanding between two people who know each other better than anyone else was the only thing that filled the room. These moments, this silence, was priceless.

"Besides," Joel said suddenly, carving through the silence huskily, "marks are good, means it meant something."

You nodded, murmuring a small "mhm" as you did. Your eyes were beginning to grow heavy, and the depth of his voice was only lulling you more.

"You've marked me, in a way," he said against your face, and your eyebrows came together in confusion.

"Yeah, not in a scar way though," he said, and brought your hand to his beating chest, "but just as permanent. More like in a...a bloodstain way--a good bloodstain--in here. You've marked my heart with it."

Your eyes met his own, and it didn't take you thirty seconds before you both started laughing in perfect symphony.

"A 'good bloodstain'," you said through your laughter, feeling a tear drip onto your face once more, "I never took you for a poet, Miller."

"Well, I ain't," he said in reply, his face beginning to flush, "that's why that was so terrible."

Through the both of your smiles you were still able to kiss him, whispering against his lips, "I know what you meant."

Because you did. You had marked each other, internally, in a way that could never be removed, and as you kissed him one last time before falling asleep wrapped in warmth and love, you couldn't help but agree with him.

Tag list: (if you'd like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon​ @aninnai @darling-murdock @daphne-turner @ellesvoid

[nakedcows]

dark! King Aemond x sister reader

Part 2

I'm still working on my next cult leader aemond chapter (here's a link if you haven't read it) , but it's taking a little longer than i thought to write (it's hard to write for a made up religion ;n;) so for now here's some dark aemond that's a little spicy. This one is a bit darker than my previous story so if you're sensitive to dark content maybe skip this one. p.s. I was inspired by @em-writes-stuff-sometimes "Terms of endearment" series so please go read her stories they're wonderful

please reblog and comment

warnings: dubcon, purity culture, abuse of power, fingering, grooming, using religion to take advantage of others, dead dove don't eat

Aemond developed an obsessive love for his youngest sister when she was little. Born the youngest child to a father already disinterested in his older children and a mother too young properly care for her, Y/n quickly learned to cling to her brother Aemond for everything. Often he would comfort her when she cried even when she was a babe. He would pet her hair and hold her tightly until she stopped crying whispering to her all the while how a perfect she was. But it was innocent then. There were no complex and conflicting feelings back then that contradicting what his mother had taught him.

Though Alicent was passive in her parenting she took great solace in the faith of the seven and wanted to give her children the same comfort. Alicent often prayed with her children particularly with her two youngest out of fear they will become vulgar like Aegon or too detached from reality like Helaena without it. With the visits to the high septon, the frequent prayer and study of holy text with their mother Y/n and Aemond became heavily invested in the faith of the seven. However despite the constant influx of the seven's teachings, Aemond's love for his sister began to morph into something more possessive something more obscene. As his little sister's body began to mature so did his feelings for her. A feeling that he knows the other boys in court will begin to develop for her the more she begins to age. When Aemond had turned three and ten Alicent had deemed him old enough to take the lead in Y/n's religious education and prayer. Aemond was elated at the news, he would have his dear sweet sister alone with him more often having her hang on his every word with her doe eyes. He quickly went to find Y/n to tell her the exciting new development. Y/n wasn't in their shared chambers nor was she with her septa or nursemaid so he went to find her at their spot in the gardens. It was a small secluded part of the garden shrouded behind heavy bushes and trees with low hanging branches. It was where they went to be alone with each other. Where she would stroke his hair while he laid in her lap half asleep. Sometimes Y/n would sit behind him brushing his hair to braid flowers into it while he read great tales of old Valyria aloud to her. It was an intimate spot. It was their spot. However when Aemond finally arrived in their secret paradise Y/n was not alone. Y/n sat underneath their droopy tree with a boy in her lap. It was that filthy northern boy Cregan Stark laying in his spot on her lap. He had a putrid smile on his face as he looked up Y/n his Y/n. How dare that welp taint his spot. Taint his privacy. Taint his sister

"Y/n! What are you doing?" Aemond shouted swiftly snatching his little sister up by her wrist. Cregan fell from Y/n's lap smacking his head on the ground before jumping to his feet.

"What do mean? we were only sitting," Y/n said.

"He was in your lap Y/n!" Aemond shouted once more tightening his grip on her wrist.

"So what if he was, you've sat in my lap before," Y/n huffed glowering at her older brother.

"And what do you think mother would say if she saw you with a boy in your lap?" Aemond asked. Y/n fell silent her eyes dropping to her feet.

"Must you make such a racket?" Cregan said. He had his arms folded staring down at Aemond.

"If she wishes to sit in the garden with a boy then who are you to object? Or perhaps you have become too familiar with being one alone with her and are afraid my hands will begin to wander as yours have," Cregan continued. Aemond stepped to Cregan getting in his face his own seething.

"You northern dogs may hump each other as you please, however I will not allow my sister to be subjected to your depravity," Aemond said. Without giving Cregan opportunity to make a comeback Aemond dragged Y/n out of the garden and into their chambers.

"Stay away from that Stark boy Y/n!" Aemond shouted tossing her into the room.

"Why Aemond!? He is merely a friend!" Y/n shouted back her voice beginning to waver. Aemond did not yell at her often. He would occasionally raise his voice at her when her mind began to wonder during prayer, but her conviction always fell short when he shouted.

"He was not laying in your lap because he thinks you friendly Y/n!"

"How would you know? I do not want him for anything else nor does he want me," Y/n said her eyes beginning to fill with tears. Aemond let out a long slow breath. He walked briskly to Y/n gingerly holding her face.

“You sweet silly girl. Do you not see that he’s trying to trick you. He means to steal your purity to ensnare you with kind words and gentle touches before forcing you down by your pretty neck and snatching away your virtue.”

"T-that's not true," she said. Aemond's face darkened as his grip on her face started to tighten. He grabs her roughly by the hair and forced her to her knees in front of the small alter in the corner of their room. Y/n was forced to pray to the maiden for forgiveness the rest of the day for allowing a boy the opportunity to sully her virtue.

Now that Aemond was given charge of her religious education her lessons quickly become less about the proper practice of the faith in favor of obeying him in every aspect. For who else but her big brother can properly show Y/n how to protect her purity in the ways of the seven. Aemond uses the Maiden to comfort and shame her often saying things like: “Be careful of where your eyes wonder. Don’t forget the Maiden is watching” Aemond frightens her greatly about interacting with any man no matter how small or platonic.

“Be careful of the stable boys sweet sister it would be wise to pray for the Maiden’s protection before you go to mount your horse.” As they began to grow from children to a man and woman grown Aemond had dresses specially made for Y/n having the rest of her dresses disposed of. Aemond calls them her maiden dresses; they were dark green dresses that cover her whole body leaving no exposed skin. When Y/n began to wear them she had complained they were too uncomfortable and stiff for her, but Aemond pacified her saying: The Maiden had shown him the dress in a dream and told him it would help remind Y/n of her virtue and to keep her safe. But in reality he had them made because it was becoming onerous to fight the temptation not to touch her during prayer. Unfortunately despite his efforts he finds her all the more enticing. A perfect pure maiden wearing her special dress just for him.

When it came time for king Visery's heir to take the throne the dance of the dragon ensued. Rheanyra and Deamon had fallen in battle and Aegon was missing in action, leaving Aemond to claim the throne. With every family member that stood in the position Aemond had coveted now dead he believed that the result of the war was not merely a fight for rightful succession, but was an act of the new gods will. The pull of the seven's power, mercy, and justice had given him his crown, and Aemond wanted everyone to know of the power the seven had gifted to him. Aemond had every bit of the red keep covered with religious symbols of the seven. Although Aemond finally had everything he wanted, the right to the iron throne and his little sister entirely to himself, it wasn't enough. There were still wandering eyes from of the lords in court, young men asking for Y/n to dance during banquets, and copious amounts of letters asking for her hand. He needed to protect her keep her safe from the greedy hands of men and so Aemond locked Y/n away in the maiden vault indefinitely.

Though Y/n begged and pleaded with Aemond not to lock her away from the world Aemond was her protector he knew better. Knew of the cruel world that saw her purity and wanted to sully her body the way he did, but lacked restraint that tended to slip more times than he wanted to admit. However, six moon turns of leaving Y/n in the vault with no one but septas for company had left Aemond feeling lonely. He shared his meals with her and they still prayed together, but it wasn't enough. He missed her sweet voice welcoming him when he returned to their chambers. Her gentle touches as she brushed his hair and the way she kissed his forehead before wishing him a goodnight. Aemond needed it he craved it and when Y/n wrote him a heartfelt letter about how dearly she had missed seeing him everyday when he had become too busy keeping peace within the seven kingdoms to visit her, Aemond was no longer able to deny her. Y/n was permitted to live in her shared chambers with Aemond once more with the condition that she was to be accompanied with her ladies in waiting whenever she left the room and a knight to protect her. But the most important rule she was given and reminded of everyday was that she was to have no contact with men. She was not to talk, send letters, nor make eye contact with a man if Aemond was not present. Word of princess Y/n's new found freedom had spread across the seven kingdoms. Letters began to flood into the Red Keep once more asking for her hand. Aemond of course disposed of them without bothering to read the offers properly or making Y/n aware of them, for no lord no matter his wealth or connections was worthy of his sweet sister. But one day when Aemond was away with Vaghar attending to matters in the Vale one particular letter arrived addressed to Y/n. A letter written by her old dear friend Cregan Stark. Y/n wasn't sure if she should open the letter when it arrived, but it couldn't hurt to at least read it could it. Aemond said she wasn't permitted to write a letter to men and this was merely reading so there was no real harm. And Cregan had always been so gentle and kind to her. Kind the way Aemond was, but when he held her hand the way her brother did whispered kind things in her ear the way he did it always made her heart race. Cregan was gentle with Y/n in a way Aemond tried to imitate but wasn't able to replicate. Cregan complimented Y/n in a way that didn't make her feel as though she was only desirable as long as she was pure and had the naivety of girlhood. She only ever felt the value her septa had told her she would feel by staying pure when Cregan was with her. Cregan made Y/n feel as though he would cherish her even if an unruly man had tainted her. When Y/n had nightmares of wild men chasing her down and stealing her virtue, while in the Maiden Vault, those memories of Cregan were the only thing to quell her frightful tears. Y/n opened Cregan's letter and nearly cried at what he had written.

"My dearest Y/n, I was gladder than a bard with a new tale to sing at banquets when I heard of your release. I have dreamt of you since that intimate moment we shared together in the garden. The gods seemed it fit to have kept us apart for so long, but I cannot tolerate our estranged relationship any longer. While I wish you would give me the honor of courting you the mere rekindling of our friendship would be the greatest honor you could give me. Sincerely yours, Cregan" Y/n held his letter to her heart smiling dreamily. She couldn't believe he had remembered her that he had thought of her fondly after all these years as she him. Y/n had often feared that Cregan had forgotten her and a finer sweeter lady with the freedom to be with him had caught his fancy. But he still cared for her, still felt for her, still longed for her, and she would not allow for several more years to pass her by without reaching out for him. Y/n would wait until Aemond's next expedition before writing Cregan for he would be returning to Keep this evening and she could not risk Aemond intercepting or inquiring about the raven she would send heading north. Y/n hid Cregan's letter under the mattress so she could reread it over and over while fantasizing of the day they would meet in person again. Later that evening Y/n went out to the gardens for her daily walk with her many attendants when she is suddenly interrupted by 2 kingsguards.

"Princess the king has requested your presence immediately," one said. She was quickly escorted to her shared chambers with Aemond. Opening the door she was greeted by Aemond standing near the fire place next to the chaise.

“Ah sister due come in,” he said. He had a gentle small smile on his face, one that was supposed to be disarming, but Y/n could hear a twinge of ire in his voice. After closing the door she stood in the middle of the room unmoving not saying a word staring into her brother's eyes.

“There’s no need to be stiff my dear. I am the only one present come and sit." he said walking smoothly towards her and taking her hand. He guided her to the chaise next to the fire and gently pushed her shoulders for her to sit. Taking both of her hands in his while keeping eye contact, Aemond looked down at Y/n and gave her a gentle smile. A kind smile and deceivingly comforting touches, things that many would have been calmed and reassured by, but Y/n knew better. When Aemond was especially calm and gentle with her it meant she had done something to displease him.

“My sweet beautiful sister do you know why I’ve called for you?” She swallowed and took a quick breath before quietly answering.

“No," Aemond hummed and began to stroke her trembling hands with his thumbs. Aemond reached into the pocket and pulled out the letter Cregan had sent.

“Word reached me dear sister that an…old friend of yours had sent a letter," Y/n's eyes began to water. Feeling as though her chest began to fill with lead preventing her from breathing properly.

"Did you hide this from me sweet girl?"

"Yes."

"Yes," he repeated softly watching the tears fill his sister’s eyes as she stared at the letter. Aemond sighed releasing her hands standing to his full height.

“It seems that even with the restrictions I have made for you the vipers will always find ways to slither between the cracks. Perhaps it is time for you to return to your room in the Maiden Vault," Y/n could no longer hear her heart pounding in her ears, nor could she think properly. All that she could feel was the burning dread of returning to that room. That lonely quiet room where not even her fellow ladies permitted to visit. She would have nothing to read but books about the faith of the seven and no access to anything outside of the confines of her room other than a high window too tall reach. She would be isolated other than the short visits from her brother. There was no freedom in that room. There were no pleasant conversations with her ladies there. No banquets in the great hall. No lessons with her septa. No relaxing walks in the gardens. No naps under the droopy willow with Aemond. In that room in that prison there was nothing.

“No… no! Brother please don’t send me away again!” The princess began to weep uncontrollably while Bealor kept his sickly sweet smile

“I’m afraid that I have no choice sweet girl. You’ve already overstepped and allowed yourself to be sullied,” he said as he began to toward an old small chest in the corner of the room. It contained her old maiden gown. He had promised she would never have to wear again as long as she obeyed him. The princess fell to knees in front of her brother grabbing at his tunic as she desperately tried to keep him from the chest.

“No brother please! I haven’t done anything with him I have not even written back him I swear it!” Even with her burst of tears and panic Aemond’s face is calm. Without worry and that same gentle smile on his face.

“Do you not remember what I taught you. Older brothers can only love their little sisters if they’re good girls who listen, but you haven’t been a good girl have you?"

“I’m still a good girl brother please I promise I am! I've only read the letter I haven't done anything else please!"

"You know the only reason you were permitted out of the vault was if you remained pure and obeyed. How can trust that you’re still pure now that you’ve disobeyed me?”

"I’m still pure!! I have not allowed anyone to touch me. Please i swear it brother!" Aemond looked down at his sister and couldn’t help but think that she never looked more perfect. His sweet pure sister was always so beautiful. Even when she was little he thought she had the prettiest smile, with the most enticing lips, and comeliest figure. Her big eyes filled with innocence that he wanted all for himself. But here and now with Y/n clinging to him. Desperate for him. Desperate for his approval for his pure love. On her knees begging him as if she would die if he didn’t believe her. Those same innocent eyes now overflowing with tears looked…intoxicating.

"Prove it to me," Aemond said gingerly taking Y/n's face in his hands.

"W-what?"

"Prove to me dear heart that you have remained pure," Aemond said his smile contorting into a smirk.

"I-I don't know how," Y/n said.

"Would you like for me to show you?" Y/n nodded quickly. That's his good girl always eager to please him even when she didn't know how.

"Lay on the bed for me my dear and lift your skirts," Y/n hesitated and looked up at him confused.

"Would you rather I assume the worst and have you spend the night in the vault?"Aemond asked raising an eyebrow. Y/n leaped to her feet and made her way to the bed lifting her skirts. Aemond hummed as he strolled to the bed gazing at his sisters spread legs. He was finally able to see her all of her and she was desperate for him to look.

"I will need to inspect your womanhood to reassure that you have kept your virtue intact," he said. Aemond grabbed the hem of Y/n's small clothes and carefully slipped them from her body. No one had ever looked at Y/n's womanhood before she was frightened to look at it herself at times. Afraid of the temptation that would lead to the lost of her purity Aemond so often warned her about. Aemond felt the front of his pants tighten as he gazed at Y/n's cunt finally bare before him. He kneeled in front of her and gave her pearl a kiss. Y/n felt her breath hitch as a new sensation flooded her senses.

"Aemond!" she gasped sitting up a bit. Aemond reached up and pushed her back down to the bed and hushed her.

"It is alright sweet sister this is what it feels like when someone who loves you touches your most intimate places," he said. Aemond gave a long slow lick from the bottom of Y/n's entrance to the top love bud drawing a moan from her as she arched her back. He then began to make small circles on her pearl occasionally adding pressure.

"A-Aemond please," she moaned.

"Hush dear heart I have to inspect every part to make sure it has remained untouched by unworthy hands," he said.

Aemond returned to her throbbing core and sucked on her pearl while gingerly inserting a finger in her entrance. Y/n eyes began to roll back as she rolled her hip into Aemond's face. Soon after Aemond added a second finger then thirds thrusting them into her core faster and faster as nervous moans turned into shrieks of pleasure. Y/n began to feel tension in her belly. A knot tide too tightly about to snap.

"Aemond! Aemond!" she cried out.

"Ssshhh you're alright sweet girl I have you," he said. Aemond pumped his fingers while sucking harder on her bud. Aemond felt her cunt contracting around his fingers and releasing before finally squeezing his fingers tight as though she wanted to trap them inside her core. Y/n shrieked as that knot in her stomach finally snapped spilling her slick all over Aemonds fingers. Aemond left his fingers inside and gently licked at her pearl easing her through her orgasm. Y/n breathed heavily her head empty other than the endless pleasure her brother had just racked through her body. Aemond slowly removed his fingers staring wistfully at his fingers now coated with his sisters slick.

"You have done well Y/n. The peak and tension within your core of pure woman," he said. Aemond climbed onto the bed leaning over Y/n as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Here my dear taste your purity savor the delight of your pure cunny," he said pushing his hands still wet with Y/n's slick to her mouth. Y/n eagerly opened her mouth and moaned around his fingers; closing her eyes as she relished in the taste of her own spend.

"Good girl. my pure sweet girl," he said kissing her cheek. Aemond removed hid fingers from Y/n's mouth smirking at the a wanton whine she let out.

"All you have to do now is promise me whenever you feel that preassure in you core that you will come to me so that I may relieve it," he said. Aemond pressed his head against Y/n's gazing into her eyes still dazed from her first peak.

"I promise," she said. Aemond leaned in kissing her deeply stroking her face.

"That's my good girl," he said. Aemond pulled Y/n to his chest gently stroking her hair and whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she fell asleep.

[little-diable]

Oh, professor - modern!Tommy Shelby (smut)

Another piece written with lovely @zablife – it's always great fun with you, babe. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What happens when you spend a mind-blowing night with a man you thought you'd never see again? What happens when that man turns up at your class as one of your students? Will you be able to let him and your shared memories go or will he find a way to keep you close?

Warnings: 18+, lots of smut, piv, power play, age gap, professor x student relationship

Pairing: Professor!fem!reader x student!Tommy Shelby (6k words)

moodboard by @zablife

The room was dark, well almost, no light flooded through the bedroom besides the light of the streetlamps breaking through the dark curtains, casting a bright shadow. A shadow you probably would have paid more attention to if it weren’t for the position you had been willingly forced into, cheek pressed to a soft pillow, hips raised off the mattress.

Your moans echoed through his bedroom, loud enough to wake any nearby neighbours, forcing heat to rise in their systems at the almost pornographic sounds. The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs, of sweaty bodies searching one another’s closeness for the third time that night.

Your mind was too hazy to remember how you had managed to end up in the apartment of a stranger, a man you had flirted with from the second you had run into one another at your go-to bar, drawing you away from your group of friends. Perhaps it had been the fault of his bright eyes, piercing pupils that had burned holes into your warm skin; perhaps it had been the fault of the charming accent that had shot tingles down your spine; but perhaps it had simply been the fault of the way he had stared at you, marvelled even, as if you were the finest creation known to humankind.

Even though you weren’t one for going home with men you barely knew, hell, you barely left your home at all, fully focused on the courses you were teaching, and on the papers you had to grade, this man had something different to him, something you didn’t want to let go of again. You weren’t one for distractions, and kept your focus on your work, the one thing you loved wholeheartedly. But there had been something about the man who was at least twenty years older than you, hair graced by greyish specks that had drawn your attention to him from the first moment.

“Look at you, close to cumming again, aren’t you, love?” His raspy voice filled the bedroom, no longer could you reply, at least not verbally, opting to moan his name with your eyes squeezed shut. Tommy had his hand buried in your hair, keeping your cheek pressed to the pillow as he fucked you ruthlessly, already knowing your body better than any ex-boyfriend after years of being together.

“Talk to me, let me hear that pretty voice of yours.” You struggled to fight through the hazy fog of lust his touch forced to spread out through your system, heart chasing uneven beats with your hands fisting the covers all too tightly. A few more moans clawed through you, mind racing to try and pierce some words together, anything, to give the man what he was asking of you.

“Fuck, Tommy, ‘m so close, so so close.” An almost gleeful chuckle left the man who momentarily tightened his grip on your waist, forcing his cock even deeper into your tightness. Your walls had a tight grip on him, unable to hold on for much longer. Without even having to ask him to, Tommy’s hand wandered from your waist to your pulsing overstimulated bundle, circling it with his lips pulled into a devilish smirk.

With his name leaving your swollen lips like a prayer spoken on a Sunday morning, you came on his cock, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. But he didn’t stop fucking you, fully focused on his own high now that yours had been pushed through you once again, allowing him to use your body. The gritty sounds leaving him left you grinning proudly, face painted by a blissful expression.

He came a few moments after you, pulling out to get rid of yet another condom before he found his way back to you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, “I think it’s finally time for a bath, eh? Don’t want you passing out on me before we get you cleaned up.”

……

You hurried past the row of old oaks, eyes squinting slightly at the bright sunshine flashing sharply through the branches. The clacking of your heels against the stone added to the pounding in your head and you could only hope it would cease before class began. As you entered through the heavy double doors, you shifted the strap of your bag and rummaged inside for the paracetamol you stashed in case of emergency.

The building was already bustling with activity, the noise of overlapping conversations echoing off the domed ceiling. Preoccupied by your continuing search for something to stop the pain behind your eyes, you collided with someone’s shoulder. As your head jerked up in surprise, you found your colleague, Charlotte, wobbling slightly in an attempt to balance her coffee cup. Reaching out to help her, you quickly apologized. “Sorry, my fault!”

“It’s alright, I should know better than to wander the halls this late in the morning. It’s bloody chaos,” she chuckled.

Furrowing her brow at you she asked, “What are you doing out here? You’re always two hours early the first day!”

Her look of concern soon turned to impish delight when she noticed the medicine bottle in your hand. Her eyebrow arched as she leaned in conspiratorially, “Took my advice and had some fun for a change?”

You hesitated for a moment before a grin began tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I might have,” you teased.

A little gasp escaped her lips as she exclaimed, “I knew it!”

Biting your lip at the memory of the evening before, you added, “He was incredible, Char. Even if I never see him again, it was…really something.”

“Tell me everything,” she continued excitedly, nearly tripping over her own feet to keep with you as you resumed your brisk walk.

You shook your head gently, trying to retain a shred of professionalism. “Not within earshot of the roomful of students I’ll be teaching for the next four months,” you laughed as you came to a stop outside the lecture hall.

“Alright, but I want to hear about this later!” She called after you as you gave the door a nudge with your shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ll have lunch,” you promised, turning your attention toward the sea of faces awaiting you.

Normally you would have arrived before anyone else, papers stacked neatly and laptop open and waiting. Your first year you even practiced a few greetings, nervous that your voice might tremble in a decided lack of authority. As the youngest professor on the faculty, you still felt the roots of anxiety burrowing inside your stomach at times, especially as you awaited the inevitable test from one entitled little shit or another. You found yourself having to work twice as hard as your colleagues to be taken seriously.

Tossing your bag onto a chair, you tried not to think of the few who might cause you problems and focus on the scores of others who were there to learn. Ready to get to work, you quickly began twisting your hair into a top knot and mentally reviewed what you’d like to cover first. When you were ready, you walked to the front of the room and introduced yourself in the prepared speech you were accustomed to, including all pertinent information to the class. You watched as heads bowed and arms shifted occasionally, the gentle whisper of keys tapping out notes. When you’d finished, you asked for questions, receiving only the shuffle of feet and a few scattered coughs in reply.

In the moment of stillness, you found your thoughts wandering with the particles of dust dancing in the light. Suddenly your mind was as clouded as your field of vision, imagining the trickle of sweat between your breasts, slick against Tommy’s chest as you glided over him. You swallowed hard imagining his strong hands trailing your skin as you felt goosebumps begin to prickle the back of your neck and forearms. Chin raised to his sapphire blue eyes, you swore you could see him smiling back at you now with that same satisfied grin he wore when you fell apart beneath him.

“Professor Y/l/n?” A girl in the front row called to you, snapping you back to reality. You attempted to focus on her question, but your eyes darted to a place beyond her right shoulder uncooperatively. The profile and hair were so familiar, it was distracting. Then as the students in front parted slightly, you inhaled sharply. Taken aback, you stuttered out the last few words of your sentence in embarrassingly inarticulate speech, too overcome by the sight of the man you’d been daydreaming about moments earlier. You hadn’t imagined the intensity of his blue eyes. Tommy was actually here!

You struggled to comprehend it. Was he a student? He hadn’t mentioned university studies. Could he be following you? That’s ridiculous, you chided yourself. If he was a student, you certainly wouldn’t be able to have sex with him again. Oh, but he looked amazing in that blue jumper that matched his eyes. There were far too many thoughts to process at once and the headache from before was only intensifying. You quickly dismissed class and gathered your things, slipping between the throng of people exiting.

…..

Y/n, I tried to find you after class and lost you in the crowd. You weren’t in your office so I assumed this was the best way to contact you. Can I see you again? Tommy Shelby

You closed the email-app, biting the inside of your cheek. He’d clearly been thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him, but you still weren’t sure how to proceed considering how little you knew about him. So you did what any curious woman in your position would do. You googled him.

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a glass of wine in one hand and your phone in the other, you scrolled until you’d learned as much about Thomas Michael Shelby as possible. The results were impressive, to say the least, from his countless business ventures to his myriad of titles. Without realizing, you’d lost an hour to image searches alone of him in tuxedos at fancy galas thrown by influential figures. He was a man who could have anything or anyone he wanted. Brow furrowed in concentration, you wondered what he was doing in your advanced seminar on Dante’s work. There was only one way to find out.

Mr. Shelby, I apologize you were unable to reach me on the first day, but as my syllabus states, office hours do not begin until next week. I’m available to meet Monday if you have any questions. Prof Y/l/n

……

Your eyes glanced at the wall clock one last time before giving up all hope Tommy would appear. Not that you blamed him for losing interest. Your email was overly formal and you winced every time you read it, but it had to remain professional.

Reluctantly rising from your desk, you stretched and gave a long, disappointed sigh. “Doesn’t matter” you mumbled as you locked the office door and turned to leave. The moment your shoulder swiveled left, you collided into the toned planes of a man’s chest and strong arms instinctively caged yours to steady you.

“Mr. Shelby,” you exclaimed with more than a bit of shock tinging your voice.

“Y/n,” he hummed, bending down to retrieve the bag you dropped. Extending it toward you, he quirked an eyebrow as he asked, “May I ask why it’s Mr. Shelby now? Didn’t know you fancied a bit of role-play or am I forgetting something about our evening together?” An amused smirk painted his handsome features at his little joke, eyes dancing with mischief.

You accepted your bag, cheeks growing hot as you retorted, “I could ask you the same of you, hitting on your teacher.” Then you added cautiously, “I should warn you that it’s against the rules for me to see you now that you’re enrolled in my class.” Beginning your walk toward the stairs, you slowed your gait as Tommy huffed out a laugh.

“Ah, so that’s it. I’ve been a naughty pupil,” he exclaimed. Capturing your elbow in a gentle grasp he turned you to face him as he pondered seductively, “What will you do with me now?”

“Can I ask you a question?” you prodded, considering him with a serious expression. Tommy’s face soon mirrored yours as he realized you weren’t playing his game and his hand dropped from your arm. “Why did you seek me out here? I did a bit of research on you, you know,” you revealed. “You have to admit it looks a bit odd, a king of import/export taking a class in poetry?” you wondered aloud.

Tommy closed the gap between you, an earnest look taking hold as he spoke. “Beauty awakens the soul to act,” he said, holding your gaze with those insufferably clear blue eyes.

“You’re here so the beauty of the written word should uplift you?” you asked doubtfully, tilting your head at him.

His large hand cupped your face as he drew nearer. “I think we both know the real reason I’m here,” he whispered, leaning toward you until you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. “I want you,” he said with the certainty of a man who always has the coin land in his favor.

You pressed your palms against his broad chest, heart pounding wildly at the closeness of him. “I could get into a lot of trouble for this,” you reminded him breathlessly.

“Only if we get caught,” he countered, hand slipping down your side to grasp your hip firmly. “Don’t you want to live a little?” he prodded with a squeeze.

Your head was spinning as you fought the overwhelming desire threatening to consume you. “Yes…and I want you too…but…,” you protested half heartedly.

“Then that’s all I need to hear,” he said as his hand dipped beneath your skirt to push your underwear aside. You gasped at the feeling of the cool air and the lazy swipe of his finger through your wet folds.

“You’re soaking,” he hummed against your open mouth with satisfaction, plunging two thick fingers into your inviting warmth. He quickly swallowed your wanton moan with a deep kiss and you melted into him without hesitation, any thought of further denial dying on your lips. He licked into your mouth with ravenous appetite, fighting you for dominance in a way that made his cock twitch. As your hips began rutting against his palm for the pleasure you knew he could provide, he praised your eagerness. “Take what you need,” he urged against the shell of your ear.

But the clicking of heels and the echo of voices descending the stairs soon drew your attention. As they came nearer to your position, Tommy maneuvered you into the shadows of the stairwell away from their view and kept you pressed impossibly close.

For a moment you thought you were safe, Tommy returning to his ministrations. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thrill of him rolling your swollen clit beneath his thumb while he nipped and sucked at your exposed throat. It was a dangerous move, however, a guttural cry escaping your lips despite your attempt to suppress it.

Suddenly a man’s voice asked, “Did you hear something?”

You stopped breathing momentarily as you pressed your face into Tommy’s neck, his digits still pressed tantalizingly against your g-spot.

“I don’t think so, Howard,” a woman replied, hand sliding down the bannister so close to your head you could smell her perfume.

You gulped harshly as Tommy withdrew from you, leaving you clenching around nothing. He brought his slick fingers to his mouth and you panted at the sight of him relishing the taste of you. With a wink, he disappeared quickly out the side door as you attempted to make yourself presentable again.

Moments later your colleagues found you patting your hair down and adjusting your bag in frenzied, awkwardness.

“Professor Y/l/n, we were just talking about the upcoming welcome dinner,” Dr. Baker said with a warm smile. He prattled on, oblivious to your eyes darting over his shoulder to watch Tommy sauntering across the courtyard. Turning to glance back at you, you noticed he was still lazily sucking his fingers. The obvious delight in the curl of his sinful lips caused your thighs to clench and your clit to throb, the overwhelming need to finish what you began frustrating you beyond belief. Your skin felt as though it had been set ablaze, thighs rubbing together unconsciously as you watched him fade from view.

“…fingers,” Dr. Baker finished, looking at you inquisitively and you realized you’d missed what came before that. Had he seen Tommy’s lewd display as well?

“Excuse me?” you asked, paranoia chilling the warmth in your cheeks like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head.

“I said my wife will bring her signature dessert, ladyfingers,” he repeated.

“Yes, of course! I’m looking forward to it very much,” you agreed with an overly enthusiastic smile. Then you excused yourself home.

……

Ever since that moment with Tommy, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from wrecking your head about the what ifs racing through your mind. Even though your night with Tommy had been something you had never experienced before, you couldn’t risk losing your position within the university, especially not for a situation like this. But no matter how hard you tried to shake these thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the welcome dinner you were about to join, the thoughts of him seemed to follow you around like a shadow sewn to your boots.

Familiar faces smiled at you as you stepped into the room, hand stroking down the soft fabric of your dress to try and collect yourself, putting on your best smile. This evening was all about making an impression, all about crossing paths with those that were important for your career, hoping to leave them impressed about your determination, your work drive.

“(Y/n)! There you are.” Charlotte’s voice left you smiling, a sincere smile that wasn’t as fake as the one you had worn just a minute ago. She pulled you in for a short hug before you greeted some other colleagues standing close. “Did you see Lizzie? The things I’d do for the man she brought as her date are unspeakable.”

The words Charlotte whispered towards you left you chuckling, at least as your gaze kept combing through the crowd of colleagues, trying to find Lizzie’s face. You had never been the biggest fan of her, not of her personality, not of her way of teaching, trying to keep a friendly though respected distance to her. But your laugh got stuck in your throat as your eyes found the piercing ones of her date – Tommy fucking Shelby.

Charlotte must have picked up on the way you grew tense, mistaking it for interest in the handsome man making his way towards your small group, arm wrapped around Lizzie’s waist. Your breath hitched in your chest the second the scent of his expensive cologne clashed against your front like a tidal wave set on drowning you, a scent that instantly reminded you of the way he had fucked you in his bedroom, how he had marked you as if you were only his to love.

“May I introduce you to my date, Tommy Shelby.” Lizzie kept on introducing Tommy to the other colleagues, blissfully unaware of the way his gaze kept wandering back to you, sporting an unmistakable smirk on his lips. Heat rose to your face as Lizzie finally turned towards you, about to speak your name, though interrupted by the murmur of your name rolling off Tommy’s tongue.

“Professor Y/l/n, it’s good to see you again.” His hand found yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand, a gesture that left you breathless; a gesture that left Lizzie visibly seething.

“Mister Shelby.” You nodded at him, suddenly feeling all too uncomfortable with all eyes focusing on you, wondering where you knew the man from. Just for the sake of dethroning Lizzie, not wanting to endure the arrogant smile she wore, you debated telling them of your escapades with the man – yet these were all too intimate, not daring to leave your painted lips. “Mister Shelby joined my class for this semester.”

Your eyes wandered through your small group, explaining the short interaction to the others, trying not to spare the grin Charlotte now wore any of your attention. You’d deal with her later, letting her in on the reasons for the tension growing between you, Tommy, and Lizzie. Before either one could speak another sentence, you were interrupted by the voice of the dean hallowing through the room.

“May I ask for your attention? It’s so good to see so many of you here tonight!!” The woman kept speaking, staring at the crowd with a smile so bright you feared for the way the corners of her mouth would start burning soon. But the second you felt a hand on the small of your back, you shifted your attention away from her, eyes finding Tommy’s, even in the darkness you were now engulfed by.

“Meet me in the hallway in thirty minutes.”

……

“Come,” Tommy took your hand, eyes set ahead with his smirk still playing on his lips. For just a second you allowed yourself to take him in, to look at the lips you had kissed a while ago, already aching for his taste once again. Fuck you had it deep for the man, unable to tear yourself away, unable to shake the sensations he had pushed through your body.

“Where are we going?” Your whispers were left unanswered, Tommy opened a door for you, pushing you into the dark room before anybody else could see the two of you. He pressed you against the now closed door, lips finding yours in the dark. The moan that clawed through you was raspy, vibrating with lust, with a special kind of pleasure only he could make you feel.

“Fuck, wait.” You pushed him away, hands firmly placed on his chest, trying not to spare the feeling of his tense muscles beneath your fingers a thought. “What about Lizzie, your date?”

“Oh, love, I’m not interested in Lizzie, you know that.” The chuckles that rumbled through Tommy left you panting, not understanding why he was toying with Lizzie and with you. "I came because I knew I’d find you here, I needed to see you again.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply, shut up by his lips finding yours. The feeling of his fingers on your body was enough to distract you from your thoughts, keeping quiet, not wanting to interrupt the sensation once again. A fire was burning inside you, a fire so strong you feared Tommy would melt you, burned to the ground by his wandering hands and the smirk that could make the devil blush.

“I want to make you scream my name, let them hear who you belong to.” Tommy’s words left you moaning, eyes fluttering close as he kissed his way down your throat, hands disappearing beneath your dress. You were pulled closer, feeling his clothed, hardening cock against your damp panties. The pants that ripped through you left Tommy smirking against your skin, all too aware of the power he held over you. “But we wouldn’t want to risk your reputation.”

Tommy let go of you, feeling as if cold water had just been dumped over your burning body, instantly missing his touch. For a few seconds, he stared at you in the darkness before he dipped his head down once again, lips ghosting over yours, “Call me on your way home, and I’ll come to find you like I always will.”

“Fuck, Tommy, wait.” You couldn’t let him go, it felt as if you were burning, your body on fire from just a few simple touches. With your arms finding their way around his neck, you pulled him close once again. The kiss you pressed against his lips left your heart racing in excitement, moaning as Tommy moved you back. Within seconds you found yourself placed on top of a table, thighs pushed open by his wandering hands.

“You’re such a greedy girl, look at you, weeping for my touch, for my cock. We’ll have to be quick.” Another moan tore through you, eyes fluttering close as his warm breath clashed against your cunt. His tongue brushed your arousal-covered folds, groaning at the taste he had been thinking of ever since he had fucked you, a taste he thought of as Tommy fucked his hand to the thought of you at any given chance.

“Oh fuck, your mouth is deadly.” Tommy chuckled against your skin, eyes flickering up to your pleasure-drunken features. Two fingers were forced into your tightness, curling them against the spot that left you breathless. He knew exactly how to push you to your limits, knew exactly how to make you see the stars he had shown to you the last time he had fucked you ruthlessly.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet, love, I’ll never get enough of you.” Tommy was a starving man, a man who would claim you at any given chance. And you were his salvation, the rescue he had long given up on, the lifeline that would stop him from drowning in the darkness he had befriended years ago.

Your clit pulsed against his warm tongue, knowing that you’d cum any moment now. With your eyes set on Tommy, you covered your mouth, knowing that you couldn’t be silent, not when he fucked you with his fingers; not when he ate you out like no other man ever had. And as your head rolled back, eyes squeezed shut, Tommy pulled you even closer, pushing the awaited high through your trembling body.

Tommy kept fucking you with his fingers, smirking against your bundle of nerves as he watched you fall apart, only pulling away as a shaky exhale left you. Wordlessly, you pulled him in for one last kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I’ll see you later, love, be a good girl and I’ll reward you later.”

……

An hour later, you fell out of the lift with a little giggle on your lips, Tommy’s strong arms catching you before you tripped. “Do have the entire floor?” you asked in amazement.

“The building actually,” he replied with no attempt at modesty. There hadn’t been much small talk during your first visit or you might have learned that. However, you did remember the incredible view, courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city.

The lights gleamed back at you in a glittering array of colors that seemed endless, much like the vast expanse of the room where you now stood.

“Well, you might have more real estate, but I certainly have more books,” you noted with a firm nod. Spinning in a tight circle, you looked at the near empty shelves around you. “Where do you keep yours?”

Tommy smirked at you as he came closer, hooking an arm around your waist as he answered your question with one of his own. “Would you like to see?”

You bit your lip and nodded in reply, feeling his hand wander down your backside with a gentle squeeze. Kicking off your heels, your feet glided along the polished hardwood to stop in the doorway of a home office. The room was much more inviting with tall shelves full of leather back volumes and photos.

“Take a look over there, professor.” He pointed over your shoulder, directing your gaze to a desk in the corner. Your eyebrows went up in shock as you approached and saw the assigned reading for your class open to the correct page.

As your fingers traced the familiar words, you felt Tommy’s warm breath upon your neck, “Do I get a gold star?” he asked, brushing the hair from your shoulder to replace it with a kiss.

“I’m impressed you know what we’re studying this week,” you admitted. Quirking your eyebrow at him playfully, you added, “But have you actually read it?”

You felt him smirk against your skin as he admitted, “I was hoping you’d give me a private lesson.”

Slightly distracted by the featherlight kisses he placed along the delicate skin from your ear to your throat. And even more so when they turned to gentle nips, you huffed out a little laugh. “Is that so?"

His only reply was the warmth of his palms, skating along the sides of your body. Fingers massaging deep, insistent circles into your hipbones and raising your dress up to your waist until he had revealed your ass to the cool air.

“I think you could be persuaded,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. The sight of dark lace coming into view caused his dick to twitch and he couldn’t resist reaching out to cup your warm heat, stroking along the gusset of your underwear. An impish grin spread across your face as you captured his hand suddenly.

“Alright then. My class, my rules,” you explained. Handing him the book, you instructed him to begin reading without stopping. Tommy’s brow furrowed slightly before noticing your hands had slipped to his belt, the jingle of the metal and the zip of his trousers the only sounds in the room.

“Well?” you prodded as you proceeded to undress him from the waist down. “Let me hear you,” you demanded with a peck to his lips.

Biting his lip as though he were trying to decide, Tommy complied the moment you sank to your knees. The first sentence boomed into the quiet space confidently as you reached for his already erect cock. However, his voice hitched slightly when your warm breath met his skin, even more so when your tongue darted out to lick the first glistening drops of precum.

“Oh, fuck…” he muttered, as you began licking up one side and down the other in slow, even strokes of your tongue.

“I don’t remember that part,” you joked as your hand closed over his length to begin pumping him gently. Tongue laving over him in tantalizing patterns, his voice grew shaky, a near whisper remaining of his commanding tone.

By the time you took him into your throat, he could barely think through the fog of pleasure. His head felt full of cotton and the words suddenly uncooperative when he attempted to recite them.

Releasing him with a wet pop, you placed a few open mouth kisses along his length to slow his desire and return his attention to the task. Then you asked sweetly, “Will you read a bit more?”

“M not sure,” he confessed with a shudder, composure slipping further as your thumb brushed over his sensitive tip.

“Go on,” you urged, fondling his balls and scratching lightly with your fingernails. Sucking on his reddened tip, you looked up through your lashes at him and swore you saw him suppress a whimper, but he attempted to continue.

Although he tried to control it, the clenching of his muscular thighs beneath your palm soon gave away his need for release and you set a devilish pace you knew he couldn’t resist. Releasing small staccato breaths, his hips jerked forward, hand clutching your hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Tommy only managed two more words before his resolve snapped, pulling you from the floor and turning you to face the desk in one swift movement. You moaned as his large palm pressed against your back, bending you over the desk to rip your thong away. He kicked your legs apart to give himself greater access before entering you with one deep thrust.

A grunt of relief passed his lips as he held himself there to feel you pulse around him, savoring the tight grip of your pussy. The moment didn’t last long, the overwhelming urge to pound into you overtaking him. He quickly wound your hair in his hand before tugging you back to meet his first thrusts of raw need and your hands shot out for something to grasp hold of.

Gripping the edges of the desk tightly, you could hear the squelching sounds as Tommy drove into you relentlessly. Your own desperate pants were drowned out by the noise of skin slapping harshly as your body began to bounce back against him. The brutal pace he set lit a fire in your belly as he arrowed himself into you perfectly, hitting that sweet spot deep within.

Every drag of his cock against your sensitive walls pushing you to the brink, your body keening and arching in response. Tommy eventually slowed to watch you unravel. The pride in his voice evident as he mumbled lustfully, “Taking me so well.”

He reached forward to fondle the globe of your breast, rolling your pert nipple in his fingers and pinching to hear your sweet little gasps. The delicious combination sent sparks of pleasure zinging through your body, overwhelming your senses until you were flooded with euphoria. 

Thighs beginning to shake from aftershocks, your hips dug further into the wooden desk as you collapsed forward in utter exhaustion. Tommy soon followed, hips stuttering against your backside before he pulled out. You whimpered at the loss of him just as you felt the warm spurts of his release against your ass. If not for Tommy cleaning you off and carrying you to bed, you might not have made it on your own. 

It was certainly no surprise when the bright rays of the morning sun woke you instead of your alarm. Your evening of passion had once again made you late for work, but this time you decided to take a much deserved day off. 

Rolling over to find your discarded purse, you rang Lizzie. As you thought of what to say, you gathered the sheet and wrapped it around you, walking as quietly as possible to the hall. When you heard her pick up on the other end of the line, you immediately began to ramble.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re in. Of course you are. Well…I…I have a small favor, Lizzie.” Not quite reaching the point before you felt something brush against your arm. You could hear her heavy sigh of annoyance just as you caught sight of Tommy, tugging at the corner of the sheet until he’d left you naked. 

With an impish grin, he began kissing you, beginning at your temple. You bit your lip as you tried to concentrate on your call, asking if she might take over for you this morning.

“Yes, just the two classes this morning,” you confirmed as Tommy’s head began to dip lower, lips grazing your shoulder and then your breast. You stifled a squeal as his tongue swirled the pebbled flesh around your nipple and gave a sudden bite, apologizing to her as you explained. “No, I, uh…burned myself.”

Tommy frowned at you as you tried to bat him away. Seductively pushing you against the wall as you listened to Lizzie begin a list of her own demands. “Well, alright, but when you return I’ll expect a trade. If you could…” 

Just then Tommy sunk to his knees, pushing your thighs apart and swiping his tongue through your folds before you could clamp your legs shut again. He sat back on his heels. “C’mon love,” he begged quietly.

“Is that a man's voice?” Lizzie asked sharply. Then with a gasp of recognition she said, “Tommy Shelby!”

“No, of course not. I have to go, Lizzie!” you rushed out in a single breath, hanging up before Tommy could open his mouth again.

“You’re going to get me fired!” you hissed at him playfully as he raised from the ground to kiss you good morning.

“They wouldn’t dare,” he promised, cool blue eyes shining back at you. You scrunched your nose at him skeptically, “And if they did?”

“You could be my tutor,” he offered as you broke into a fit of giggles. “I quite enjoyed last night’s lesson. In fact, I think I need another,” he began earnestly before his eyes crinkled with a mischievous grin. “Turns out I’m a terrible pupil. I have to study constantly,” he added with a dramatic shake of his head.

Then without warning, he scooped you up and hauled you back to bed as your shrieks of laughter echoed down the hall.

[lovelywritinglady]

Slutty Showers

Hisoka x fem!reader

18+

Smut, Shower sex, mentions of blood, established relationship, fem reader. Hisoka fucks you and then treats you right.

Third Person Pov

The sound of skin slapping together your moans were echoing against the shower walls. The warm water cascaded over your bodies as Hisokas cock was hitting your walls so good that it make your brain foggy. His hands were gripping your tits while is fingers were pinching your nipples hard. It stung but god it made you feel so good. His mouth was biting and sucking on the soft skin on your neck. He began sucking on the hickeys he’d given you the night before while he was pushing your body to its limits. The two of you had been going at it for a long time yet his pace never faltered. You swear this man his an incredible amount of stamina.

Suddenly you were being picked up and your back was pushed against the wall. His hands grabbed your legs and forced them around his waist, not like you were complaining. You then put both of your arms around his neck and pressed your lips against his. It was a fiery kiss that sent pleasurable shivers down your spine. His tongue went inside you mouth which you let happen. His cock wasn’t inside you and you were aching without him. He knew this and you could feel him smirk against your mouth. After some more time of teasing you he thrusted himself into you which caused you to yelp with pleasure and pain. His pace quickened and you began moaning his name like a prayer while your hands began scratching his back. You knew he loved pain so you made sure that you scratched enough to make his back bleed. He began to moan loudly as well. His golden eyes met yours with a lustful and love full gaze. His hand came down and he started to rub my clit meaning he was holding you with one arm. You two kept this eye contact until you felt that familiar bubbling feeling and you could tell he was close too.

“Hisoka, I’m gonna cum” you moaned out

“Mmm good cum for me flower” he grunted

After a few more minutes you came hard on his cock. His name was moaned over and over again and your nails dug into his skin even harder than before. Then Hisoka came shooting his cum inside your walls while he was still thrusting inside you. You were on birth control so he knew you were okay with it. He thrusted inside you until his cock softened. At that point you had lost feeling in you legs. Hisoka turned the shower off and carried you out of the shower and put you on the counter.

He then grabbed your towel and started drying you off while giving your forehead a kiss. This was the Hisoka you knew. He was sweet to you and he didn’t say it often but you knew he loved you and you loved him too. He’s a very strange man, but he’s loyal to you which you thought wouldn’t happen when you two got together. But just by the way he’s looking at you know you know how much he cares for you.

After you were dry you took his towel which of course was pink and began drying him. His body looks like it was sculpted by the gods. Hisoka could tell you were admiring him because of how long you took to dry him. This made his ego get even worse than it already was. When you were done you reached up and pressed a long loving kiss on his lips and then looked into his eyes and smiled. He then picked you up once more and took you to your shared bed. The two of you cuddled while Hisoka talked about his abilities and how beautiful he thought you two were. Despite how rough he is, he always is sweet after the two of you have very hard sex. After a little while of Hisoka babbling you fell fast asleep. He noticed after a while and chuckled at your cute expression. He then gently kissed your cheek and looked at you before saying…

“I love you, my flower”

Thank you so much for reading!💜

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

Please feel free to request, reblog, and comment

Click here to see what I’ll write for and click HERE for my master list.

-L.W.L

[major-mads]

Chapter 5: The Dangerous Sky

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: We've been planning this chapter for months now, and it's so exciting to finally post it! It's another long one lol! 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: 12.7k

Monday, August 23, 1943: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich

Regensburg, Germany…the mission that earned the Hundredth its nickname was finally over.

Nine forts lost. 

Ninety men gone…just like that.

Ninety boys who would not return to their families. 

Among these ninety men was Curt. Buck and John were still in shock when their small group of officers tiredly pushed through the doors into their nissen hut. A few beds were made with fresh sheets, all remnants of their previous owners long gone.

The nightstands and walls that held the pictures Ruth had admired the week before were bare, a fresh slate for a fresh face that would be arriving soon. 

As he walked by Biddick’s bunk, Bucky couldn’t bear to look at it. The wound was still too fresh.

“Knowing Biddick,” he had told Buck in the Algerian desert,” He’s probably sipping on a bottle of schnapps right about now.”

Oh, how he wished he was right.

“Looks like you’ve got mail, Bucky,” Jack spoke up, pointing at the man’s bed that had a few letters thrown on the mattress.

Dropping off his bag with a thud, John sat on the edge of his bed and collected the letters silently, immediately recognizing the neat cursive handwriting on the front.

He let out a gentle sigh and smiled to himself, the corners of his lips curling just slightly. Flipping through the letters, he discovered that all three of them were from Ruth. 

August 17th, August 19th, and August 21st

John opened the first one, carefully unfolding the precious letter, and began to read.

John, Hope and I were barely able to sleep last night. Our worry for you both ate away at us, keeping us awake until the early hours of the morning. Based on what we’ve heard from Frank, that is around the time you were probably waking up in preparation for the mission. I pray for you constantly, John. I pray that God will look out for you, that He’ll protect you, and that He’ll allow you to come back to me. I also pray that Granny’s necklace does its job. Keep it close. I like to think that it’s a little piece of me with you. I don’t think I could imagine not seeing you again. My heart couldn’t take it. I’m afraid I have become very attached to you and your mustache, Major, so I am pushing this thought as far from my mind as I can. It has been difficult. As I sit writing this in the loud mess hall of our base, I can’t help but think back on the dance. That first night we shared with the buzzing crowd surrounding us…the way you calmed my nerves without a word, made me smile, made me laugh. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever known, John Egan, and I worry that you may never be rid of me if you continue to treat me so. I hold every second we’ve shared very near to my heart, and I can’t wait to see your handsome face again. If by some miracle you are back to base by the time this letter arrives, send me a response as soon as possible. I need to know you’re safe, Johnny. I’ll be waiting for you and your letter. Yours, Ruth Morgan

John could almost hear the nurse’s voice in his head reading her words, and his chest filled with warmth as he traced her name lightly with his finger. If he was being honest with himself, he was taken aback by her sincerity. No woman had ever expressed feelings like these to him before.

His relationships with women had always been about a night of pleasure, physical attraction with not much feeling behind it. 

But her words…

‘I worry that you may never be rid of me…’

Ruth was different in every way possible, and when he told her that first night, he had no idea just how much. Placing the letter onto his nightstand, he opened the second one from the 19th, his grin widening when he saw the first line.

Dear Hotshot, I wanted to be the first to inform you of the Yankees’ seven-to-five loss to the Indians today. Yes, I remember our truce, but seeing that you got one last jab on Monday before we parted, I decided that I had one left myself. This makes us even now. Now that that’s out of the way, I can revert to the loving sweetheart who is worried sick for your safe return. I really do mean it when I say you are always on my mind, John. I’ve managed to make it one singular day without seeing or writing to you before giving in and penning this letter. I simply need to get out my nerves and anxieties, thoughts and feelings, and this is the best way to do that. Hope and I went on an evacuation run yesterday, and as we were flying, we wondered if we were near the two of you. Did Buck tell you he proposed? Well, he didn’t technically, but he told Hope he wanted to marry her after the war. Needless to say, she’s been worried sick just as I have, maybe even more with Hugh gone as well (if that’s possible).

Eyes widening, John’s gaze rose from the letter and shot across the room to Gale, who was quietly talking with Hugh at his bunk as he unpacked his bag.

Why did he not tell him?

“Got any big news you wanna share with the class, Buck?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at him while holding up Ruth’s letter.

Gale confusedly looked over at him. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Rolling his eyes at Hugh, Buck sauntered over to John, standing over him with hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Hope Cleven,” the older man grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

A bashful smile appeared on Gale’s face. “I’ve got a ring and everything, now. It’ll be after all this is over.”

Standing to his feet, Bucky pulled him into a tight hug and lifted him off the ground. “Whenever it happens, I better be the best man! That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, you will be,” Buck chuckled as John put him down, releasing him from his grip. “Just don’t tell Hugh that.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Hugh shouted across the officer's hut causing Gale to groan. 

“Well, it makes sense. I am Buck’s best friend,” John retorted, sending a sly smirk Hugh’s way which only riled the man up further.

“Yeah, and Hope’s my sister. I’m his future brother-in-law.” 

Gale stepped back as Hugh stomped over to them, coming chest to chest with John who just continued to playfully glare down at him. 

“So what? You're a St. Louis fan,” Bucky pointed at him, a grin tugging at his lips. “That instantly makes you not best man material.” 

Hugh snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and I suppose you being a great Yankees fan makes you the right choice, huh?” 

“Absolutely,” John replied matter of factly. “How can you cheer for a team who lost 11-3 to the Pirates? The Pirates.” 

“At least we didn’t get shut out by the Indians.”

Gale knew this wasn’t going to end well. No one could insult the Yankees to Johnny’s face and get away with it...except Ruth, of course. Before John could find a comeback, Gale stepped up, moving to stand between the two men.

“Now, now. I’m not having you two fighting over being my best man. If it’s that much of a problem, I’ll make Demarco my best man and Meatball can be the ring bearer.” 

Neither of the men seemed too pleased with that outcome. 

“Not Demarco!” 

“Yes, Demarco.” 

John groaned, pursing his lips, and Hugh remained silent, looking at the ground solemnly at their childish behavior. 

“You should choose whoever you want to be your best man, but-” John began with a nod before Hugh interrupted.

“Yeah pick who you want, Gale. Hope will probably want me to walk her down the aisle anyway so I’ll probably be in the bridal party instead.” 

John snickered with raised brows as he imagined Hugh in a bridesmaid’s dress, but he fell silent when Gale elbowed him in the ribs, shooting him a glare..

“Come here,” Bucky pulled Gale into another hug and slapped his friend’s back, “Congratulations, Buck! You’re a helluva guy.” 

“The best,” Hugh added. 

As they stood there celebrating Buck’s life-changing news, the trio couldn’t help but think of their close friend who wasn’t. Their group got even smaller…

“Curt…he would,” John cleared his throat and nodded, forcing down the emotion that threatened to creep up his throat. “He would be happy for you, Buck.”

Gale’s eyes met Bucky’s and they mirrored the same emotions…hurt, regret, sadness. The men who came back never talked about those who didn’t, and both of them knew this was the one time they would.

“Yeah, he would,” Buck breathed, one side of his lips barely turning up into a mournful smile.

Silence filled the air around them there for a few moments, all three stuck in their minds until Gale spoke up.

“That from Ruth?” Buck asked, gesturing to the letter in Johnny’s hand.

He nodded once and sat down on his bunk with a soft smile, suddenly remembering the last half of Ruth’s letter he still had to read. “I’ve got another one to read after this one. Then I’ve gotta write her back.”

As Gale looked down at his friend’s lovesick gaze, he smiled to himself and shook his head. If someone had asked him if John Egan would be rushing to read love letters and send a response to a woman, one woman, whom he’d been seeing over a month, Buck Cleven would’ve told them they were crazy. 

“Tell her I said hello,” Gale said quietly, patting Johnny’s shoulder before returning to his bunk.

He muttered, “Yeah, sure,” before his eyes found the paragraph he left off on. The major’s aching heart was soothed by her words as he continued to read them.

We have been busying ourselves around the base, finding things to keep our mind off the fact that we don’t know where you are…if you’re safe. I’d like to think I’d know in my heart if you were gone. I pray I don’t ever have to face that feeling. Take care of each other wherever you are, alright? I know you watch Buck’s back like he watches yours, Johnny. Keep an eye on Hugh, as well. We both know he can be a troublemaker…like someone else I know. He, however, doesn’t have someone to reel him back in when he gets a little too crazy like you do. I know I’m writing this like you will receive it where you are right now, and not when you return to base, but I’m doing so because it’s the closest thing I have to talking to you.  I miss you, John. Please write when you get this. Praying for your safe return, Your Ruthie 

Scooting onto his bunk more comfortably, Bucky leaned back against the wall and opened the last letter. It was dated just two days prior, so at her current rate, another would be sent before his could reach her. 

My Hotshot, Please come home soon. The past five days have been torture. I go to see if I’ve gotten mail every single day, and each time, I leave a little more disheartened than I came. I feel my heart can’t beat inside my chest until I know you’re safe. I know you’re doing your job…a job that has to be done…but it doesn’t make it any easier. I’m sorry, John, but I don’t have too much time to write. We’re about to leave on an evac run. I long to hear your voice and feel your warm touch. Don’t forget your promise, hon. Come back to me…sooner rather than later. I can’t handle two boyfriends, remember? Missing you, Your Girl

Johnny swallowed thickly, lowering the letter to his lap as his mind raced. He knew that it very easily could’ve been him that went down that fateful day over Regensburg…it was all luck. 

There was a bigger chance than he’d like to admit that he’d go down, that they’d all go down, and the thought of never seeing Ruth again brought a burning to his chest. Reaching up, he grasped the necklace around his neck beside his dog tags, feeling the coolness under his fingers. 

Her Granny’s necklace sure did its job.

John brought the cross to his lips, kissing it softly as he silently thanked Virginia Morgan up above for the good luck.

Once the letters were carefully stored in the growing bundle of her correspondences he kept in his nightstand, he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a pen. Using his book as a backer, he began to write.

Ruthie, Hey, sweetheart. I’m glad that you kept your promise about the letters, and I’m also glad to say that I’ve managed to come back to you in one piece. By now, you’ve probably read about the raid in the papers. It was a tough one, and reading your letters helped more than you’ll ever know. Thanks for telling me of Buck’s “proposal.” The chump hadn’t even told me about it! So much for a best friend, right?  He says ‘hello,’ by the way.  Hugh thinks he has a chance at best man, but we all know that’s not gonna happen. You’ll be the maid of honor and I’ll be the best man…I can see it now: Buck crying like a baby and you looking like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve missed you, Ruthie. I still can’t believe that a wonderful woman like yourself would ever spare a poor sucker like me the time of day. Each time we part, I find myself replaying our every moment spent together. When we were stuck in the Algerian desert under the scorching sun, my thoughts always wandered back to you.  Your skin, your hair, your smile, your lips…the way you make me laugh. You are unlike any woman I’ve ever known, Ruth Morgan, and if I am never rid of you (as you wrote), I would consider myself the luckiest man in the world.  Stay safe up there on your runs for me. Your Hotshot, John Egan P.S. Tell your other boyfriend that I’m back and not willing to share.

Saturday, August 28, 1944: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

John, Gale, and Hugh were riding from their nissen huts to the mess hall when the familiar roar of a C-47 filled the air. The sound meant their girls were on base, and it filled them with excitement as they peddled faster towards the landing strip. 

“Did you know they were coming today?” Buck asked, quickly glancing over at Johnny and Hugh.

John shook his head, a lazy grin curving his lips. “No, Ruth didn’t mention it in her last letter.”

Gale nodded to himself but couldn’t shake the feeling deep down that something was wrong. As they approached the airstrip, Colonel Harding appeared, calling out to John.

“Bucky! I need to talk to you,” he yelled from the balcony of the nearby flight tower.

Holding in a groan, Johnny nodded at Hugh and turned his bike toward the tower. “Tell Ruth I’ll see her in a minute.”

It all happened so quickly.

The flight had been uneventful. 

All their patients were stable, and Frank and his fellow pilot were singing together in the cockpit. Hope and Ruth had taken their seats and were enjoying resting their legs for a while. 

That was until the Ack-Ack’s had started firing.

Hope hissed, resting her palm against her injured thigh as she slid out of the plane. The bloodied bandage did nothing to stem the steady flow of thick blood. It hadn't been gushing with a constant flow but seemed to increase as her heart pounded faster and faster in her chest. 

Memories of the shrapnel piercing her thigh, having pranged around the aircraft before embedding itself into her, flashed in her mind. Looking back, she shouldn’t have pulled it out, but despite Ruth’s protests, she was stubborn, and without the blonde’s quick thinking at applying pressure and a tourniquet, she wondered if this would have been a different situation. Hope hated feeling weak and not being in control, but her stubbornness could have cost her life. 

“You need to get that leg checked out, Hope,” Ruth glanced over, her usually soft features etched with fear and concern, but Hope, still being her stubborn self, shook her head. 

“Ruth’s right, Hope. It’s a bad wound and we’d all feel a lot better if you got it checked out,” Frank added, helping the blonde with getting a stretcher into the ambulance. 

“We need to tend to our patients first,” Hope shuffled over to the nearest man on a stretcher, quickly informing the stretcher-bearers of his condition before they carted him towards the ambulance. 

Glancing at his watch quickly, the pilot cursed under his breath. “I’ve gotta go radio the base and let them know what happened.” He pointed at Hope as he hurried off. “Get it checked.”

“Do you need that leg looked at, Miss?” One of the young men asked, “There’s room in the ambulance.” 

Hope shook her head, politely declining any assistance. That was until two familiar faces came rushing over, a mixture of fear, anger, and horror on their faces as they noticed the side of their C-47.

“What the hell happened, Girls?” Hugh asked, glancing between his sister, then Ruth, then back to Hope. “Shit! You’re bleeding.” He reached forward but Hope pulled away, shrugging him off.

“I'm fine, Hugh. It's just a scratch. I'll get it looked at later,” she dismissed him.

By now she could feel Gale’s eyes boring into her, his sharp blues missing nothing. He felt her discomfort as she hobbled along, trying to avoid resting her hand against the wound to draw attention to it. 

“That looks a hell of a lot more than a scratch, Hope,” Gale stepped forward to stand beside Hugh, his movements stiff and mechanical, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to act. “You’re covered in blood.” 

Hope looked down at her uniform, noticing that from her waist down both her legs were soaked in blood and she was beginning to feel lightheaded. “I said I'm fine,” Hope snapped, exasperated and in pain. 

She just wanted to do her job, why couldn't they understand that?

“What happened, Hope?” Gale’s eyes were dead serious as they watched her, clearly annoyed but wracked with concern. Hope just looked back at him, unable to move or speak for fear she might cry. 

“It was the Ack-Ack’s,” Ruth quietly spoke up, and the men turned to see her own blood-soaked uniform, her hands still shaking at her side. “The plane was hit by flak fire. A chunk of shrapnel went flying around… got Hope in the thigh,” Ruth sighed and let her gaze fall to the ground, knowing that Hope might not forgive her for the next part. “She pulled it out herself. We applied pressure and a dressing but she needs to see a doctor.” 

If looks could kill, Ruth would be six feet under the airbase by now. 

“YOU DID WHAT?” Gale cried out, his face white with horror but his sharp eyes burning in a way none of them had ever seen before. “Are you some sort of idiot? Everyone knows not to pull things out of a wound. You could have bled out.” Gale’s chest was heaving as he fought the anger that built up within him. His hands clenched in fists at his side as he continued. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” 

Hugh reached out to him, trying to cool the situation down but Hope intervened. 

“I had patients on board. I'm no good to them if I bleed out everywhere. I thought quickly and went with the best possible outcome.” 

Gale snorted, waving his hands out in front of him, “Of course you did. You thought of the best possible outcome for you. What about the rest of us, Hope? What would happen if you had died?” 

Hope sent him a hostile glare, jaw clenched and her lip curling slightly as she spoke, “Do you realize how selfish you sound?” 

Gale scoffed, “I’m selfish. Did you for one-second think of what we'd have done if you had died?” 

Despite being outside surrounded by wounded soldiers, you could have heard a pin drop. 

Hope’s eyes scanned over the group, looking into the faces of her friends and seeing the same hurt looks. Ruth’s face was still tilted toward the ground with closed eyes as she listened to the bickering. The fear, the explosions, and the sound of Hope’s pained scream replayed in the woman’s mind, and she felt like her heart was going to explode inside her chest. 

It was too much. It was all too much.

Ruth was vaguely aware of the rest of the group leaving the airfield, Buck trailing off after Hope as she stormed away, and Hugh marching off as well. She stood there silently, trying to keep herself from falling apart…

The second Bucky was dismissed by Colonel Harding, he jogged down the stairs to his bike outside. Pedaling to the airstrip, he could only think of Ruth’s smiling face that he would soon be seeing. The hum of engines reached his ears as he turned around the corner of a shortcut, and the sight of her familiar figure standing before the C-47 sparked even more excitement within him. A grin formed on his face and he pedaled faster, eager to greet her. 

As the plane came into better view, his smirk fell as he noticed a giant hole in its fuselage. Johnny’s gaze snapped back to Ruth, and when he looked closer, his initial excitement transformed into horror. The world seemed to blur when his eyes focused on the blood-soaked flight uniform that clung to her. Panic seized him, and without a second thought, he leaped off the still-moving bicycle, letting it clatter to the concrete behind him as he sprinted toward Ruth, his boots pounding against the hard ground.

“Ruth! Ruth, what happened?” he cried desperately, his voice echoing off the nearby buildings. 

Johnny reached her in a whirlwind, taking her face in his hands, his panicked blue eyes inspecting her face intensely, scanning for any sign of injury. He then moved to her torso, his hands running over her body frantically.

As his hands desperately searched Ruth’s uniform, his voice trembled with fear. “You hurt?”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, and then suddenly, her tear-filled eyes met his. The Major’s hands, once frantic in their search, were now pleading. "Ruthie, come on. Talk to me. I need to know you’re okay." 

She gently placed her hands over his, stopping him. “It’s not mine,” she finally whispered, her voice strained. “We flew into a flack field, and, uh, Hope. She got hit in the leg. Buck’s with her now.”

‘Ruth’s okay,’ John repeated in his frazzled mind. “She’s okay.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips and John wrapped his arms around her, pulling the woman into him tightly. Her head was tucked into his chest as uncontrollable tremors ran through her body. 

“You’re okay, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmured against her temple. “I’m here.”

His heart broke as he felt a sob rack through her body, her weak cries reaching his ears. “I-I was so scared, John. I thought we were gonna die.”

Bucky pulled back slightly and moved his hands to grasp her tear-streaked cheeks gently, her pain-filled blue eyes nearly tearing him apart. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, leaning down to meet her gaze as he wiped her tears softly with the pad of his thumbs. “You didn’t, okay? It’s over now. You’re safe, Ruth. It’s over.”

She took a shaky deep breath, trying to calm herself, but another cry fought its way up her throat and the nurse let out a choked sob. With each breathless gasp that left her lips, Ruth’s heart pounded faster and she suddenly felt her chest tightening.

John knew what the startings of a panic attack looked like, and he tried to recall how Franny had taught him to calm Lena down all those years ago when they were teenagers. Seeing Ruth’s usually bright and loving personality in such a fearful and panicked state sent his mind into overdrive.

“Ruth,” he urged, his hands still cradling her face. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Her watery gaze met his, her breaths coming out in short uneven gasps. 

“I need you to breathe.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, John nodded at her with raised brows, worry etching his face. “With me, now.”

Ruth shook her head. “I-I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” the Major asserted firmly, reaching for her hand and holding it against his chest. “Feel that? Breathe with me. In…” he breathed through his nose. “And out.”

After a moment, she shakily followed suit, her eyes never leaving his. The warmth of John’s hand enveloping hers and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her touch grounded her in the moment. Gradually, her breathing began to regulate, the erratic gasps giving way to steady inhales and exhales. Johnny watched her closely, his eyes searching for any signs that the attack might return.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Just keep breathing with me, doll.”

With each measured breath, Ruth felt the tightness of her chest gradually ease, the weight of her fear lifting. After a few minutes, her breath completely steadied, and the panic attack passed, leaving her drained but calmer.

Ruth leaned into John’s comforting embrace, her forehead moving to rest against his chest as she let out a shuddering sigh. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “I-I’m sorry you had to see me like this, covered in blood and…and a mess.”

John placed a soft kiss to her temple. “None of that. You’re okay. That’s all I care about.”

As she stepped back into his arms, her eyes welled up with tears once more. “But look at you,” she protested weakly, gesturing to the smears of blood that marred his brown button-up undershirt. “I’ve ruined your shirt.”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “This old thing? I’ve got a million of ‘em anyways, Ruthie. It’s just a shirt. Wasn’t even my Sunday’s best,” he reassured her gently. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t wear my lucky jacket today.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.  “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and slowly led her toward the nearby operations building, still feeling her body shaking beneath his touch. As they turned the corner, they were met with Bubbles walking past a jeep. His face scrunched in concern and the usual smile fell from his lips at the sight of the bloodied woman. 

“Shit! What happened, Bucky?” he asked, quickly approaching them. “Do I need to go get Doc Stover?”

“No,” Ruth piped up, mustering the best smile she could. Even Bubbles could see straight through it.

John shook his head. “We’re alright, but I’ve gotta take your ride, Bubbles. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s not mine. It’s Kidd’s.”

“Even better,” he smirked, opening the passenger door for Ruth before climbing behind the wheel. “Tell him I owe him one.”

Bubbles raised a brow with a barely concealed grin. “He’s gonna be pissed, sir.”

“Ehh, he’ll get over it.”

Nodding, the lieutenant turned to enter the building, but Bucky called out to him. “Oh! Bubbles, could you grab my bike? It’s somewhere near the ‘47 back there. Tell Jack it’s his for the day! Thanks!”

As the jeep roared to life, John tucked Ruth under his arm much like he did the night of the dance, and then they were off. She laid her head on his shoulder and her eyes slowly fluttered shut, sleep calling to her after the day’s events.

John peered down at her with a saddened smile as he took in her splotchy face and the blood that seemed to coat the bottom half of her uniform. Some of it even clung to her hair, the light blonde strands covered by the sticky, maroon substance. 

As he felt her finally relax in his hold, he let out a shaky breath, his heart finally beating regularly in his chest again. The Major knew how terrifying flack encounters were, and he was trained in how to handle it…well, he was used to it. Ruth, on the other hand, was not. It was her job to keep men alive while in the air, not worrying about being shot out of the sky by some German on an anti-aircraft gun.

Rage bubbled from within him at the thought. If the blast was just a little closer, there was a chance that he wouldn’t be holding her in his arms. If one more-

“I missed you,” she murmured, breaking Bucky from his thoughts as she nuzzled into his shoulder. “I was so worried about you, John.”

He took a steadying breath, pushing down his anger as he ran his hand along Ruth’s arm softly. “I missed you, too, doll. And I guess we’re even now, ‘cause I think I just lost ten years of my life back there.”

A tired laugh escaped her lips. “Imagine feeling that way for 9 days.”

Johnny could hear the exhaustion in her voice, and he squeezed her shoulder, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her hairline.

“Get some shut-eye, alright? We’ve got a stop to make before we go back to my hut.”

She nodded against him as her eyes fluttered closed again, sleep quickly overtaking her. 

As she slept soundly under his arm, he pulled up to a hut with a familiar figure smoking outside. “Miss Tatty,” John whisper-shouted, careful not to wake up Ruth. “Could you do me a favor?”

Raising a brow, she took a drag of her cigarette and approached the jeep, her smile falling when she saw the nurse’s bloody figure beside him. “She alright?”

“Flack hit her stick,” He sighed, running his free hand down his face. “She’s alright, but Hope got pinked in the thigh. Scared her half to death.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Could you find some extra clothes for her? She’s gonna need some fresh ones.”

Tatty nodded at him, a determined expression gracing her face. “I’ll get some now.”

It only took the woman a few minutes to emerge from the hut with a small bundle in her hand. “This should be enough,” she said, placing the bag into the back of the jeep. “But please stop by again if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Tatty. I owe ‘ya one.”

A tiny chuckle left her lips as she pointed her finger between Ruth and John. “Just don’t screw this one up, John, and we can call it even.”

“I don’t plan on it,” he grinned toothily, putting the jeep back in drive and starting down the road again. John’s hut was across the base, and he spent the short drive tapping the steering wheel to the tune of One O’Clock Jump while stealing glances at the sleeping woman in his arms. 

When the jeep rumbled to a stop outside the officer’s hut, Johnny rubbed Ruth’s shoulder. “Wake up, doll. We’re here,” he said gently, a soft smile playing at his lips as she lazily sat up, blinking away the sleep in her swollen eyes. “You need to get washed up.”

Ruth lazily looked around them and realized where they were.  “How long was I out?”

“Not long. Only about half an hour.”

Her eyes fell to her lap, the slick blood still staining the uniform. She was suddenly aware of how terrible she felt. It was everywhere. On her skin, in her hair…

“I feel disgusting,” she whispered, holding up her red-stained hands. 

“I know, doll. Here are some clothes you can change into after you shower.” Bucky reached back and grabbed the small bag that Tatty had given him, squeezing her shoulder before getting out of the jeep. “Let me go grab my kit for you and I’ll be right back.”

The second the door shut behind him, Ruth’s gaze fell back down to her hands, on the crusted blood under her nails, on Hope’s blood. At the thought, a strike of anxiety coursed through her, and the nurse could feel her heartbeat speed up. The shaking of the plane and the sound of the hot metal flying through the cabin rang in her ears as she closed her eyes tightly.

Among the chaos in her mind, she heard Johnny’s calming words. 

‘I need you to breathe…in and out.’

Following his voice, she took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to calm her racing heart. Ruth repeated the action and ached for his comforting presence beside her. 

‘Breathe. In and out.’

Inside his hut, Johnny was strutting to his bunk when he heard a soft snore from his left. His eyes followed the sound to a bed across the room, a smile growing on his face when he realized it was Buck and Hope. Her dark hair was splayed on his chest, and Gale had an arm around her waist as the couple peacefully slept, their faces free from worry.

It was the most peaceful slumber Bucky had ever seen Gale have throughout their three-year friendship. 

He let out a chuckle under his breath and quietly gathered his shower pack, sparing them one last glance before closing the door behind him. As John emerged from the hut, Ruth’s eyes rose to his figure. His gaze locked with hers and he could once again see the worry in her blue eyes. He quickly approached the jeep but was stopped when someone called out to him. 

“Bucky?”

Johnny turned to his left, seeing Majors Dye and Veal jogging toward him with wide eyes.

“You good?” Dye asked, eyeing the smears of blood on his shirt. Bill just stared at him warily, the only emotion on his face visible by the slight crease in his brow.

 “I’m fine, boys,” Bucky replied with a smirk, his eyes floating to Ruth over their shoulder. “Thanks for the concern, but you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

The pair followed his gaze, sharing a silent look when they saw Ruth in the jeep. 

“Wait,” Bill spoke up gravelly, nodding towards John’s shirt. “Is that her blood?”

Scratching his mustache, John glanced at Ruth before lowering his voice and leaning closer to them. “No, but it’s Hope’s. Buck’s in there with her. They’ve both had a real shitty day.”

Dye nodded and sent her a sympathetic smile which she shakily returned. “We’ll tell the guys to steer clear for a little while.”

John could tell Ruth was teetering again, and he clapped Glen’s back, throwing a quick ‘thanks’ over his shoulder as he walked back to the jeep, his attention completely on his girl. He rounded the bumper to lean against the passenger side, offering her his hand. “Come on, let’s go get you squeaky clean again, Ruthie.”

Nodding silently, she let him lead her to the bathhouse. Ruth stood in the corner while he turned on the shower, the hot steam already fogging up the mirrors when he stepped back and held his shower pack out to her. “I-uh don’t know how hot you like it, so I just-”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” she replied softly, taking the pack. ”Thank you.”

He stared at her for a few moments and took in the pure exhaustion on her features, his hand instinctively reaching up to push some hair behind her ear as he spoke softly. “I’ll be right outside. Gotta make sure no one sneaks a peek of my girl.”

Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss against her lips before backing toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“John?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“Can, um, can you stay?” she asked nervously, her eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t want to be alone.”

As Ruth’s request hung in the air, John’s mind went into overdrive. He felt a rush of heat flood his cheeks and his heart pounded in his chest. Swallowing hard, he struggled to find the right words. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he finally replied softly. 

Even as he spoke the words, his mind was in turmoil and his thoughts spiraled out of control. John was unable to tear his gaze from her as she slowly began to unzip her flight uniform, revealing her red-tinged tank top underneath. When Ruth caught his stare, her cheeks flushed.

“Um, John,” her voice broke through the silence, her tone hesitant. “Could you…could you look away please?”

“Right,” Bucky muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the running water as he snapped out of his trance and spun to face the door. “Sorry.”

As she continued to undress, John tried to focus on anything other than what was happening behind him. He stared at the cracked cement floor, willing himself to remain composed, to keep his thoughts in check. When he heard the rustle of the curtain opening and closing, he let out a shaky breath as relief flooded through him.

Despite his efforts to focus on anything else, his thoughts kept drifting back to the woman on the other side of the curtain, her presence a constant in his mind. Bucky knew he should respect her privacy and give her a moment to decompress after the day’s stressful events, but the temptation proved too strong and before he could stop himself, he found his gaze drifting back to the shower.

John stole a glance through the opaque shower curtain, his body heating up at the sight of Ruth's silhouette moving gracefully beneath the spray of water. But as quickly as the temptation came, a wave of shame washed over him, and he quickly averted his gaze, chastising himself for his lack of self-control.

He traced the outline of her body in his mind, and then the shame came rolling right back again. Bucky knew he had to take his mind off of the woman…or at least try to…so he began to sing under his breath.

“Never saw the sun shining so bright,

Never saw things looking so right.

Watching the days hurrying by,

When you’re in love, my how they fly,

Blue days, all of ‘em gone,

Nothin’ but blue skies from now on…”

Ruth stood beneath the warm spray of water, letting it cascade over her weary body, washing away the dirt and grime of the day. The hot water soothed her aching muscles and eased the tension that had settled deep within her bones. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh of relief, allowing herself a moment of rest.

As John’s soft singing filled the air, Ruth couldn’t help but smile. His voice, though not the most melodic, calmed her frayed nerves and eased the knot of fear that had lodged itself in her chest. 

“John,” she called out over the sound of the water.

“Yeah?” Came his muffled reply.

“Could you sing a little louder?”

Bucky ducked his head with a grin and raised his voice, switching to a new song.

“And when I told them how beautiful you are,

They didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe me.

Your lips, your eyes, your curly hair,

Are in a class beyond compare,

You’re the loveliest girl that one could see…”

Ruth closed her eyes and let his deep voice wash over her, allowing herself to get lost in the rhythm of the song. 

“And when I tell them, 

And I’m cert’nly gonna tell them,

That I’m the man whose wife one day you’ll be.

They’ll never believe me. They’ll never believe me. 

That from this great big world you’ve chosen me!”

As she listened to him, she began to scrub the blood from her skin, feeling a wave of emotion course through her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the memories of the day flooded her mind, but John’s voice calmed her, and she rapidly blinked them away. She knew that she wasn’t alone…that she had someone to stay by her side…someone to take care of her. 

It took her a few washes to get the dried blood from her hair, and she sighed in relief when she could run her fingers through the strands without getting caught in a tangle. The water turned off with a click, and she stuck her head out the curtain, making sure only her face was visible. 

“Could you pass me my towel?”

Johnny turned back towards her and quickly averted his gaze as reached for her towel hanging nearby. “Here,” he said, extending it towards her without making eye contact before facing the door once again.

“Thanks,” she replied, accepting the towel and beginning to dry herself off.

Ruth quickly got dressed, making a mental note to thank Tatty later, and ran the towel over her sopping wet hair. Once fully ready, she spoke up, her voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

Turning towards her slowly, John’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in. Her short blonde hair was slightly tousled from the shower, its natural waves making an appearance, and her cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. Ruth wore some navy pants that fit her perfectly with a dark, oversized wine colored sweater. Despite the exhaustion that lingered in her eyes, Johnny’d never seen something as beautiful in his 27 years.

“Wow,” John chuckled, approaching her slowly and cupping her cheek. “Would you look at that. Damn gorgeous.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper at his words, a shy smile tugging the corners of her lips as she leaned into his touch. “You’re such a flirt,” she murmured.

Without hesitation, Johnny leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss, his hand weaving into her blonde waves. As they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the bathhouse. 

As he slowly leaned back, Ruth’s eyes caught sight of the raised scabs on his nose, cheekbone, and forehead. She reached up tentatively, barely touching them as she inspected his face. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern. “I didn’t even notice before.”

John’s gaze softened as he met her worried eyes. “Just a few scratches, Ruthie. Nothing to worry about.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Was it from Regensburg?”

The Major hesitated for a moment, the mental image of Curt’s plane exploding flashing in his mind before he could stop the thought. He nodded once and forced his face to remain neutral. “Yeah.”

Little did he know that the blonde could see the pain in his blue eyes.

Ruth shook her head, a frown tugging at her lips. “You’ve been taking care of me all day, and I-I should have noticed sooner. I’m sorry.”

He reached out, gently taking her hand. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “I’m really fine, doll. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

He forced all thoughts of the mission from his mind, focusing on the present.

“You’re lucky,” he smirked down at her, mischief floating in his eyes. “I don’t give free concerts to just anyone.”

Ruth couldn’t hold in a laugh at his remark and the soft sound echoed through the small room. “Well, lucky for you,” she teased back. “If you gave out tickets for free, nobody would show up anyway.”

John rolled his eyes playfully, his heart swelling with relief as he listened to Ruth’s laughter, even her small smile warming him from the inside out. It eased the tension and guilt in his chest and filled him with a sense of happiness that he couldn’t quite put into words. He leaned in to kiss her forehead gently, savoring the feeling of her soft skin against his lips.

“You feeling any better?”

“I feel clean,” Ruth sighed wistfully. “Tired but clean.”

Gathering all her used items from the bathroom, she threw them into the dirty bin in the corner of the room. Bucky took her hand and brought them to his hut’s door, holding a finger to his lips.

“What?” she yawned as he opened the door for her. “What are-”

She cut herself off when she spotted them. Buck and Hope were still sleeping in each other’s arms, and a wide smile formed on her face when she looked up at Johnny who was already peering down at her. 

‘Hope’s fine,’ she thought. ‘They must have made up.’

Ruth had to throw a hand over her mouth to keep in the excited giggle that threatened to escape her lips, and John shook his head, tugging her away from the couple to his bunk.

She sank into his bed and inhaled deeply. Ruth closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the scent of his pillow, a mixture of his cologne and the army-issue shampoo they all used. It was a comforting smell, one that made her feel at ease.

As Ruth settled onto the bed, John made his way to the footlocker at the foot of the bunk, rummaging around for a clean shirt. Turning onto her back, she stared up at him as his fingers loosened the knot of his tie, pulling it free from around his neck. He tossed it into his footlocker before moving on to the buttons of his brown uniform shirt, revealing the pink-splotched tank top beneath.

Ruth couldn’t tear her gaze away if she tried.

She watched in silence, her face burning as he shrugged off the shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. When he finally pulled off the tank top, leaving him shirtless, a lump formed in her throat and heat surged through her. 

‘Get it together, Ruth,’ she thought. 

John caught her gaze and smirked, raising an eyebrow as he placed his hands on his hips. “So you can look, but I can’t?”

Ruth sputtered for a moment, her cheeks turning an impossibly deeper shade of red, but John chuckled softly. “I’m just joking, doll. Look all you want.“

She couldn’t help but admire him openly, her eyes tracing the lines of his chest and the curve of his shoulders. He was undeniably handsome…she knew that. But seeing him like this took her attraction to a whole new level and her heart fluttered in her chest.

Ruth eyed the few things that dangled from his neck: his dog tags, a small Virgin Mary pendant, and her Granny’s cross. 

Ruth silently thanked her Grandmother for bringing him back to her. 

Grabbing a fresh shirt from his footlocker, John slipped it on and kicked off his shoes before settling onto the bed, sliding back to sit against the wall. Ruth shifted to make herself comfortable and rested her head on his lap as Johnny’s fingers brushed over her damp hair.

They talked quietly for a few minutes, their conversation meandering aimlessly as they both enjoyed the other’s company. Soon, Ruth’s eyelids grew heavy, and her words began to drift off mid-sentence. Bucky watched her fondly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as she slipped into sleep, her warm breaths against his thigh.

Sighing, he carefully reached for his beat-up copy of Guys and Dolls on his nightstand and began to read, holding it up with one hand. His other hand rested on Ruth’s head as he absentmindedly stroked her hair as he read, only lifting it to flip the page. 

‘Only a rank sucker will think of taking two peeks at Dave the Dude’s doll, because while Dave may stand for the first peek, figuring it is a mistake, it is a sure thing he will get sored up at the second peek, and Dave the Dude is certainly not a man to have sored up on you. But this Waldo Winchester is one hundred percent sucker…’

The only sounds filling the room were each of the four’s quiet breaths, and John was able to read a few chapters before he heard rustling across from him. He lowered his book to see Buck sitting up slightly, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” John grinned, his voice hushed.

Gale’s head lifted to get a look at his friend and a chuckle escaped him seeing Johnny with a wide-mouthed Ruth lying in his lap, her blonde hair covering his thighs. “Look at us.”

“Yeah. Who would’ve thought.”

Silence filled the air again as each thought of the woman beside them. A few moments later, John broke the stillness of the nissen hut. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s…She’s good,” Gale replied as he fought to keep a blush from his cheeks at the memory of their confession and what came after. “How’s Ruth?”

Johnny shook his head with a saddened sigh. “Real shaken up, Buck. You should’ve seen her earlier. I was…I was worried.”

“I know the feeling. She doin’ any better now?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Finally cracked a smile and seemed herself when she saw you two.”

A gentle smile tugged at Buck’s lips as his gaze drifted down to Hope who continued to sleep soundly. Her breathing was shallow and her nose wrinkled occasionally as she dreamed. At some point, she had moved her left hand to clutch onto his shirt and he could see the ring glisten in the dim light. “I popped the question.”

“So it’s official?”

“Yep. 

“Congratulations, Buck,” Johnny smiled, a brow raising a few seconds later. “I am gonna be your best man, right?”

With an eye roll, Gale nodded at him. “Of course, you are, lardass.”

“Good.”

“As if I could watch Hope walk down the aisle without you by my side.”

“Exactly. You'll be crying like a baby anyway. I’ll have to bring plenty of tissues,” John chuckled, pleased that a sleeping Hope was keeping Gale anchored to the bed. Otherwise, he thought something would have been thrown his way. 

“I can’t say you’re much better,” Gale pointed out, nodding his head toward them. “Look at you. Never thought I’d see the day that John Egan wrote love letters, much less something like this.”

John chuckled and thought about how different his life had been since that day in July. “Well, I finally found one worth writing to. Ruth…she’s uh, she-”

 As if she had heard her name, the blonde stirred on his lap, stretching and yawning loudly before her eyes made contact with Gale who smiled at her.

“Good morning, Gale greeted her, causing Ruth to blush. She hadn’t realized she had an audience watching her wake up and only hoped she hadn’t been snoring loudly. 

She rolled onto her back to face John and was met with a gentle smile and loving blue eyes gazing down at her. “Hey there. Feeling better?”

“Still tired,” Ruth sighed and sat up, rubbing away the sleepers that had accumulated in her swollen eyes. “But I don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

John had to hold in a laugh at the way her blonde waves stuck up in all different directions from where they had dried on his lap. “Well, your wish is my command, doll, so what do you wanna do?”

“What is there to do?”

“Have you seen the hard stands yet?” Gale spoke up. “Lemmons might even have Billy and Sammy over there.”

“Billy and Sammy?”

“Two little squirts that Kenny’s taken under his wing,” John answered with a nod.

At the mention of the kids, Ruth’s face lit up, and a wide grin grew on her lips. All evidence of sleep disappeared from her features as she excitedly clambered off the major’s lap and stood to her feet, brushing her fingers through her hair to tame the wild locks.

As he watched her, Johnny felt a pang of sadness at the sight of Ruth’s sudden enthusiasm. It hit him then, that she probably hadn’t seen many kids since becoming a nurse. As a teacher, she was surrounded by them every day, and now, their innocent faces were likely a distant memory in her mind.

“They’re a handful, those two,” Bucky chuckled, rising to his feet beside her. “But they’re good kids. Come on, let’s go see if Kenny’s putting em’ to work over at the hard stands.”

Walking out of the hut, the couple sent Buck a “thanks” as they walked by him. Ruth’s eyes fell on Hope’s still sleeping figure, her heart twinging at the memories of the morning, but she didn’t worry. Gale was there to take care of her.

John and Ruth spent the short ride to the hard stands talking about their weeks, and he almost let the news of Gale and Hope’s engagement slip a few times before they rumbled to a stop in front of Muggs’ hardstand. 

He was determined to keep his mouth shut for once. Bucky knew Hope should be the one to tell Ruth about her engagement, and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin the surprise.

Hopping out of the jeep, John’s eyes searched for Lemmons. “Kenny?”

Ruth glanced over at him skeptically. “He here?”

“Should be. He said he’d fix the old girl up today.”

They approached the fort, and Ruth was shocked by its sheer size. Yes, her C-47 was big, but the B-17 was different. Her plane carried supplies, people, almost anything…but this was a weapon. A weapon that took the fight to Hitler’s doorstep. 

It really did look like a fortress.

Ruth reached up and trailed her fingers along its yellow nose paint, the metal rivets cool from the chilly English air as she followed John to the small hatch just in front of the right wing. Before he could stick his head into the hatch, a small boy’s face appeared sideways out the hole. 

“Boo!” 

Both the adults jumped, Ruth more so than Bucky, and the man jokingly groaned. “Billy! I thought Lemmons was supposed to be keeping you out of trouble?”

“Did I scare you, Major?”

John raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think?”

“Yes,” he giggled as another boy stuck his head out the hole.

Sammy.

“Whatcha think, Ruthie?” Bucky looked over at her with his hands on his hips. “They get me?”

She grimaced playfully and nodded. “He about jumped out of his boots, boys.”

They shared a shocked look, then broke out into cheers, their faces disappearing from the hatch. “Lemmons! We got him! We finally got him!”

 “They’ve been trying to scare me for weeks,” he explained, a fond grin tugging at his lips. “Finally got me.”

Before Ruth could respond, a pair of feet dangled from the hatch, and John helped each of the boys to the ground, setting them down in front of the couple. They went running off toward the tail, and then a few seconds later, a ground crewman hopped out of the hatch, his dark curls peeking out from under his beanie.

“So they finally got ya, huh, Bucky?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” he replied.

Ken’s eyes fell to Ruth beside John and he smiled, wiping his oily hands on a rag. “You must be Ruth! I’ve heard a lot about you.” He held out a hand, “I’m Ken Lemmons, but you can call me Kenny. I’m one of the ground crew chiefs.”

“Nice to meet you, Kenny. I hope you’ve heard good things,” Ruth answered, cheeks flushing at the notion that John had talked about her. She glanced up at him with narrowed eyes before shaking Ken’s hand. “There’s no telling what this one’s said.”

“Don’t worry,” Lemmons chuckled. “Only good things. I promise.”

Giggles sounded from the back of the plane, and Ruth leaned to see them, her gaze instantly drawn to the boys. Following her eyes, Ken called them over. “Come here! The Major’s got someone he wants y’all to meet!”

They bounded over, just noticing her presence even though she had spoken to them minutes before. 

John grinned and wrapped an arm around Ruth's shoulders as he introduced her to the boys. "Boys, this is Ruth. She's my girl."

The boys' eyes widened in disbelief, and Billy blurted out, "No way! You're way too pretty!"

Ruth busted out laughing at their innocence. "Ohhh, he’s not so bad once you get past the mustache…and the jacket…and the bad jokes…and-"

“Alright, alright. We get your point,” he groaned, pretending to be offended by dramatically clutching his heart. "Way to kick a man when he’s down. Besides, that’s a lie about the mustache."

She shrugged and ignored his question. “Nice to meet you, boys.”

They exchanged mischievous grins, clearly enjoying the banter. "Miss Ruth," Sammy said, using his hand to hide his words from John. "You’re way out of his league."

John still heard the comment and raised an eyebrow, playing along. "You think so? Well, I guess I'll just have to keep her around to make me look good."

Ruth nudged him playfully. "Smooth recovery, Major."

The boys shared another toothy and excited glance before launching into a barrage of questions. “Do you live on base? Are you a nurse? Do you fly planes? Have you ever shot down a Jerry plane?”

Ruth laughed at their enthusiasm, sparing John a blissful look as she felt almost at home in the kids' presence. “I’m a flight nurse, and no, I don’t live at Thorpe Abbotts. I fly in planes but leave the actual flying to the pilots. I just take care of my patients and leave the rest to them.”

Billy and Sammy listened intently, hanging on her every word. “Do you ever see any action?” Billy asked.

Ruth hesitated, the day’s events flashing in her mind, but a warm, reassuring hand on her back brought her back to the present. “Sometimes,” she replied carefully. “But most of the time, my friend Hope and I are too busy taking care of the wounded soldiers and getting them safely back home to notice.”

“Wow,” they marveled.

“So what do y’all do around here?”

Out of the blue, Sammy grabbed Ruth’s hand, tugging her from the men. “Come on, Miss Ruth! We have to show you the plane!”

“Yeah, you gotta see the tail gun up close!” Billy added eagerly, his toothy grin stretching ear to ear. “And the ball turret!”

Ruth glanced back at John before allowing herself to be led away by the boys. As he watched them go, he shook his head at how Ruth affected everyone she met…she was captivating.

Ken and Johnny began conversing about the Muggs’ repairs from the previous day, but the Major’s attention kept drifting back to Ruth. After the boys gave her a plane tour, the trio moved to a grassy patch nearby, plopping onto the ground with Ruth sandwiched between the two boys. They continued their animated conversation, and their laughter filled the air as she told a story of a soldier who got airsick and threw up on her shoes. 

As he watched them, a thought crossed John Egan’s mind. A thought so unexpected that it caught him off guard.

She’d make a great mom.

The realization startled him. He’d never entertained thoughts of a future like that before, never met a woman who made him long to settle down and raise a family. But there he was, watching Ruth with Billy and Sammy, and the idea didn’t seem as far-fetched as before.

Ken noticed Bucky’s distraction and nudged him gently. “She’s great with ‘em.”

“She is,” he breathed, grinning as the boys broke into another fit of giggles across the hard stand. “Ruth was a teacher before she became a nurse.”

“A teacher?”

“Yeah.”

Lemmons nodded. “Makes sense. What age?”

“Junior high.”

“Well, that’s how she can handle you, then,” Kenny laughed. “She’s used to wranglin’ 13-year-olds all day!”

John threw an arm over the younger man’s shoulders, jostling him lightly. “You know, you’re probably right,” he cackled, his eyebrows raised. “You’re wise beyond your years. Sometimes I forget you’re still a squirt yourself.”

Once Billy and Sammy had to go home for supper, the couple drove back to the Officer’s Hut to catch up with Gale and Hope. Later that evening, Hugh arrived with food for the two couples, Meatball following at his heels. The large husky made a beeline for Hope, greeting her at the side of the bed. 

“Hey, Meatball,” Hope mumbled, leaning as far as she could to ruffle the dog’s fur. Meatball groaned when she began scratching his ear, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head, expressing his enjoyment. “Who's a good boy?” Meatball hopped up on the bed, snuggling into Hope’s side. 

“You can keep him if you want. The damn thing keeps howling. It’s driving me insane,” Hugh complained, passing Hope a bowl of steaming soup. “When Demarco gets back, I’m giving him a piece of my mind, leaving me to watch his dog all afternoon.” 

Hope accepted the soup gratefully but could only manage a few mouthfuls until the wave of nausea washed over her once more, and she placed the bowl down. 

“Ugh, I feel so sick.” 

Gale was at her side in an instant, his hand resting on the small of her back as she bent over, head in her hands. Ruth looked anxiously at John from their seats on his bed and started to put down her bowl to help when Hope spoke up.

 “It’s okay, Gale, it’s just the morphine,” she reassured him, squeezing his hand, to which he pressed his lips to her shoulder blade. 

Hugh snickered, “He didn’t get you pregnant while I was away, did he?” 

“With us in here? Sounds like a nightmare,” John retorted, rolling his eyes at the same time Ruth grimaced from beside him. She knew a signature Hope Armstrong comeback was incoming.

Hope glared at her brother, ”The fact that you have so little knowledge on pregnancy concerns me for your future wife.” 

Hugh stuck his tongue out in response, “That’s not a no, though.” 

 The pillow from Gale’s bed was a near miss as it sailed past Hugh’s head, and he dodged it dramatically, glaring at his sister.

“Come on, with all the ‘Dear John’ letters Sparky gets, I’d be surprised if he ever settles down,” John joined in. 

“Look who’s talking, Bucky,” Hugh retorted, pointing at Ruth with his spoon. “At least I got letters. You didn’t get a single one before Ruth came along.”

“Really?” Ruth asked quietly, surprise etched on her face.

The Major nodded with pursed lips, pushing the vegetables around his bowl before looking over at her with a small smile. “There was no one worth writing to.”

The blonde’s cheeks heated at his words, and she got caught in his gaze.

From their position across the room, Gale and Hope watched the interaction with fond smiles, both happy to see their friends with someone who so clearly adored them. The moment was interrupted when Hugh burst out laughing. 

“Well, that didn’t stop you from-”

He was cut off when a pillow came sailing into the side of his face, knocking some of his soup onto his pants as the pillow fell to the bed. Hugh’s gaze flicked towards the cot the projectile came from, ready to yell at Hope, but he wasn’t expecting to see her wide eyes as she stared up at Buck in awe.

“Sorry, Charlie,” he shrugged. “It just slipped.” 

Ruth and Hope broke into chuckles, but John just sent Gale a thankful glance. Bucky then turned his attention to Hugh, and the two pilots glared at each other. John was frustrated about the cheap, low-blow comment, and Hugh was still clearly sour over the best man situation. They soon gave up and went back to their soup. John’s mind, however, got stuck on Hugh’s words.

Once they’d finished their supper, a knock sounded at the door. “Everyone decent in there? Girls?”

Frank.

“Uh, yeah,” John called, lifting an eyebrow at Ruth.

The door swung open, and the Captain walked in with his lips in a straight line. “Thought you two’d be in here,” he nodded before turning to Hope. “How’s the leg?”

“I’m okay. Still hurts like a bitch, though.”

“Did you get it checked?”

Her face shifted into a grimace at the question. “I took care of it.”

“You, Hope Armstrong,” he sighed. “Are the reason I drink.”

“You know you love us,” Ruth added, tilting her head with a grin.

Frank’s attention drifted to Ruth’s figure beside John. “And how are you, Ruthie?”

The blonde looked up at John, thinking of how he’d taken care of her throughout the day. “Better now.”

“Alright, enough of the lovey eyes, you two,” he called out to them, taking a deep breath and placing his hands on his hips. “The Angel’s out of commission, and the Grove can’t send anyone tonight with the blackout, so we’re stuck here for the night.”

Both couples perked up at the news, but Hugh just groaned.

“As much as I wish I could make you stay with the Red Cross girls, I know I can’t. So you two,” Frank pointed at Gale and John. “No funny business, okay? None.”

Johnny’s mouth twitched, almost quirking into a smirk, but he was able to hold it in as Buck replied with a “Yes sir.” 

“Zero funny business,” Bucky fake saluted from his bunk.

Running a hand down his tired face, Frank scratched his mustache. “Hugh, I’m counting on you to keep an eye on them.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“Alright. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

The door closed behind him with a slam, and they all visibly relaxed. Hope moved to shuffle back onto the bed beside Gale, the wave of nausea having passed when the door flew open again. 

A cool breeze filled the hut as five men strolled into the hut, apparently oblivious of the girls until the one at the front of the column spoke up. 

“Would you look at that? Major ‘no girls in the hut’ Cleven has a girl on his bed,” he pointed at Hope before the man behind him tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn and notice Ruth. “And Egan, too. Shit, I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t joined in.” 

Gale sighed, standing up and placing his hand on Hope’s shoulder, “Hope, Ruth, these are the boys.” Buck took a breath to introduce them, but John beat him to it. 

“DEMARCOO!!” John hollered, causing Gale to groan at his friend’s childish antics. 

The man at the front just smiled. 

“Egan,” he greeted him before motioning towards Ruth, “How did you manage to snag yourself such an attractive broad?” 

Ruth’s cheeks flushed under the other man’s gaze but John just chuckled beside her, “Must be my endless charm.” 

“Sure thing, Major,” Demarco snorted, his voice lowering to a whisper as he glanced down at Ruth. “Blink twice if you need help.” 

With a shove from John, Benny laughed and turned his attention back to Hope and Gale while Bubbles moved over to greet Ruth.

“Hi again,” Bubbles waved at the blonde with a kind smile. “Glad to see you’re feelin’ better, ma’am.”

Ruth nodded from where she was tucked into John’s side. “Me too. And call me Ruth, please.”

“Oh, your bike’s outside, by the way,” Bubbles added, looking over at Bucky and pointing toward the door. A smirk appeared on the lieutenant’s face as he stepped closer to the couple with a hushed tone. “Kidd was, uh, not amused, to say the least.”

“Like I said, he’ll get over it,” John remarked, glancing over Bubbles’ shoulder at the Major in question who was conversing with Bill quietly. “Looks like he’s over it now. Jack!” 

“Wait-” Bubbles tried to stop him, but it was too late.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your jeep today.”

Jack scoffed bitterly and sent Johnny a sharp glare. “When you stole my jeep, you mean.”

“Come on, Jack,” John groaned. “I left you my bike.”

“A bike and a jeep are nowhere near the same thing,” Kidd argued, shaking his head with a sigh as his gaze fell on Ruth. “I know today was rough, and I’m glad you two are okay. I saw your skytrain, and you’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Ruth felt the familiar lump of anxiety growing in her throat, and she cleared it quietly, keeping her voice steady. “Thanks.”

“Just don’t do it again, Bucky,” Jack nodded.

“No promises.”

Kidd’s gaze shifted to Ruth with his brows drawn together. “How do you deal with him?”

“I have no idea,” she answered tightly, the anxiety still working its way up her throat. John inspected her face, noticing the way her eyes darted around the room.

“It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?” he asked, meeting her anxious gaze.

Ruth nodded as Bucky waved bye at Jack and ushered her out the door. When the pair exited the hut, they were met by a beautiful sight. The sun was setting over the base and vibrant colors painted the sky above the runways. Silhouettes of B-17s lined the horizon, and the distant rumble of engines, with the occasional chatter of ground crewmen, filled the air. 

Ruth took a deep breath and crossed her arms over herself, the warm sunlight on her face helping to calm her racing heart. 

“Sorry, I know that was a lot of people,” he said quietly. 

“It’s not that. Today’s been a lot,” Ruth sighed, pushing her hair behind her ears as she continued to stare out at the English countryside. “I just needed a second.”

They both silently watched the sun slowly disappear behind fields of wheat as far as the eye could see, each of their minds stuck on the day.

As Johnny stood beside her with his hands on his hips, Hugh’s comment about his past replayed in his head. Before he met Ruth, everyone knew he wasn’t particular about who he spent his nights with or where he spent them, and these women didn’t seem to mind either. But all that changed when Ruth walked into his life. 

Despite his pickup lines and physical affection, John wanted to make sure Ruth knew she wasn’t just another of his “floozies” as Hope called them. She had to know that he felt something deeper beyond physical attraction, something real for her...as real as he’d ever felt. 

Mustering up his courage, John took a deep breath and broke the silence of the quiet sunset. 

“About what Hugh said earlier, or started to say,” Ruth turned to him. “It’s no secret I’ve been around,” he confessed, his eyes falling to the ground. “I’ve been with women-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted, placing a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, I do,” he urged, moving a hand over hers. “I’ve done things I’m not too proud of. But I’ve been trying to do better…”

John acted like he wanted to say more, but stopped when a conflicted expression appeared on his face. Sensing his apprehension, Ruth squeezed his arm reassuringly. 

After a moment, he decided to keep going, his voice laced with nervousness. “You make me want to be better. You make me feel…something…everything. The other girls were…I don’t know. Distractions, maybe? Something to keep my mind off of what goes on up there.”

As Ruth watched him pour out his closely guarded heart, she saw a glimpse of a man who wasn’t as secure and confident as it seemed. She saw a man who longed to be held, taken care of, and loved but was unsure how to go about it.

“But I like this,” John gestured between them. “I like us…a lot. Today made me realize just how much. And I-I don’t want to mess this up.”

Biting her lip gently, she stepped closer, reducing the already small gap between them. “I like us, too. I meant what I said in my letter, you know. About you not being rid of me.”

“I meant what I said, too,” he replied softly, tilting his head towards her as he gently placed his hands on her hips. “You’re a unicorn, doll. One in a million, one of a kind…however you wanna say it.”

Ruth’s hands slid up John’s chest and looped around his neck, her lips slowly curving into a small grin despite the burning sensation within her stomach. “Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” John nodded as a line appeared between his brows. “I wanna do this right, and I’ve never-,” he paused, inhaling deeply. “I’ve never done this before…you know? Gone steady. But I care about you. So damn much. And I want that with you.”

“I want it too.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, the setting sun casting a golden hue on John’s face as he held her in his arms. 

“Good,” he finally sighed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at her. “Cause I didn’t have a plan B if you rejected me.”

Ruth chuckled under her breath and shook her head. “I could never reject you. I’ve been letting you kiss me for almost a month now, remember.”

“Well, you’d be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

She rolled her eyes, meeting his gaze again to find him searching her face for some answer to a silent question.

“So…what happens now?”

“Well,” Ruth whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips. “I was expecting you to kiss me, Major, but-”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he quickly replied, tugging her flush against him and landing his lips on hers. It was a gentle kiss that confirmed their deep attachment to the other, and their future together.

Pulling away, Ruth answered his question out of breath, her words coming out in shorts pants. “How about we take it slow and see where it goes?”

Shaking his head, John’s hands slid from her waist to her cheeks and gave her another chaste kiss. When he leaned back, he peered down at her blushing face with a wide, toothy grin. “Did you know the unicorn’s my favorite extinct animal?”

As they settled in for the night, John lounged under his covers with one arm behind his head and stared up at Ruth with a mischievous grin. “Looks like the floor’s all yours, doll,” he said, gesturing to the space beside his cot.

“Oh really?” Ruth arched an eyebrow, feigning deep thought as she glanced around the hut. “I'm sure someone else has some room if you’re kicking me out…”

Without missing a beat, Bucky quickly made room for her on the narrow bed, playfully pulling back the covers and throwing his arm out for her. “Oh wow, would you look at that? A vacancy just opened up.”

She rolled her eyes and accepted his invitation, slipping into the bed beside him, immediately feeling the comforting warmth of his body. John wrapped his arm around her, his touch gentle as he settled her close against him.

“Don’t you dare hog the blankets,” she teased, her voice soft as she nestled against his side, her hand finding its place on his chest.

Bucky squeezed her waist slightly, grinning up at the ceiling. “Don’t you worry about me. I don’t think I’ll have any problem staying warm tonight.”

Beside them, Bill grumbled in response, his voice muffled as he turned away. “Bucky, just shut up and go to sleep. Some of us are flying tomorrow.”

“Night, doll,” John whispered, chuckling under his breath before tenderly kissing Ruth’s hair.

Her eyes became heavy with the day’s exhaustion, and she lazily kissed his shoulder. “Sweet dreams.”

“Oh, they will be if-”

“John! Shut the hell up!” Jack hissed through the darkness.

Finally following their request, Bucky stopped talking and instead focused on how Ruth’s small figure fit perfectly into his bulky one like a missing puzzle piece. He let the steady rise and fall of her chest against him lull him into restful sleep that he’d been lacking since they touched down in Algeria.

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[bucknastysbabe]

would you pls write canon criston smut? i love your criston fics!!

YES I WOULD LOVE TO!!!! Always brings me joy when people request pookie💘 a short lil fun one

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Blowjobs, infidelity, Criston’s residual guilt, marchers w benefits, wee subby space, Unwin Peake’s daughter, wet and sensual, he’s a soft baby truly, she just likes to please, caretaking

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemondsbabe @aemonds-holy-milk @rafeism @valeskafics @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @sugarpoppss2

Pleasing You - Ser Criston Cole x Peake!Reader

“Today, I feel like pleasing you, more than before. Today, I know what I wanna do, but I don't know what for.” -Today, Jefferson Airplane

They always seemed to meet in the Sept, the Lord Commander noted. He saw the woman in the orange and black of Starpike. He faintly remembered her as a girl when House Dondarrion paid a visit to their fellow Marcher Lords. She held a darkened countenance like Lord Unwin.

“Who are you praying for today, Ser Cole?” Lady Peake asked. Her eyes flashed as one of the streams of crystalline light caught her features. Criston eyed the fellow marcher, a discarded Lady-In-Waiting for Helaena with nowhere to go. She clasped her hands, kneeling in front of the Father.

“I pray for my father. He is marching with Lord Hightower as we speak.”

Criston hummed, “Lord Unwin is a powerful man, I shall spare a prayer for him. I pray to the warrior today, for all the men fighting for our cause, and for my own protection. We leave for Harrenhal soon.”

She made a noise, returning to the silence in the castle Sept. Criston did the same, focusing on his devotions. Poorly ignoring Lady Peake so gracefully whispering words of praise. The man closed his eyes tighter, hands clasping to the point his gloves creaked. He knew he was wound up tighter than a drawn crossbow.

Warm hands slid across his plated shoulders, a familiar scent at Ser Cole’s neck. Lady Peake purred, “Lord Hand, Commander, Ser— whatever Cole,” she thumbed at the tight cords of muscle at his neck.

“I know you need to rest. Care for some company and mayhaps a knead out of this horrid knot?” Criston groaned as her slender fingers circled around the bunched muscle.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” he croaked.

They made a quick route up to the Hand’s quarters, Criston eyeing around, tense and jumpy. He noticed Peake was cool as ever, her quiet disposition the same, a resolute firmness to her being. The marcher needed that. It’s what their shared culture was all about. War, strength, and duty to protect. You must appear brave even in the face of fear.

As they climbed the stairs she tugged his cloak and asked “This must be heavy, you poor thing.” Criston snipped back, “I’ve been wearing this for twenty-odd years, I believe I’m fine Lady Peake.” Her laugh was raspy and playful, something nice in these dreary days. He rationalized his feelings for her as desperation from stress. Simply a transaction.

She stopped him in the center of the room, nimble hands undoing his armor. Peake commented, “If it makes you feel better, I used to do this to my husband all the time. So we share equal guilt. Lucas marches along with the host from the south.”

Criston’s eyes followed her, mouth working around a thought. She placed his gorget, pauldrons, and chest plate on the gilded rack. The fellow marcher sighed, “I can see you know how to undress a knight. Why even please me?”

She looked up with a blank expression, taking off gauntlets. Lady Peake replied, “I don’t know, I just want to. Does it bring you anguish for me to pleasure you?” Criston shook his head, fingers snapping at his padded tunic. She batted off Criston’s hands and redirected his ass to perch on the desk. Otto’s desk. Lyonel’s desk. He swallowed down more guilt, caressing her cheek.

“You beat yourself harder than any man I’ve seen you knock into the ground, you know,” she commented idly. His tunic was open now, only tan breeches and a loose shirt remained. Criston’s cock strained at the fabric, leaving a wet spot. He was a pathetic whore, leaking at simple touches.

“Criston,” she snapped.

“Sorry, I,” he stammered.

“Go sit in the chair sweetheart. Unlace your breeches.”

He followed her orders dutifully, shucking his shirt off, pants coming down to his ankles. Criston hissed at the cold air hitting his flushed cock, the member hitting his taught belly. Lady Peake smirked down at him, pulling the laces of her dress free, ample tits spilling out. He choked on a whine, cock throbbing once more. She dropped to her knees, soft lips kissing at his sore thighs.

Criston tried to relax his muscles, give in to her offered pleasure. He softened his stomach, neck, shoulders, and even his persistent tight jaw. She murmured against his groin, “There we go, relax for me.” Criston nodded slowly, rumbling, “I’m trying, pretty girl, I’m trying.”

Her lips pressed a lush kiss to his sensitive skin, trailing up to his hip. Criston eyed her tits, he wished to fuck them later, maybe she would let him. He inhaled sharply when she mouthed at the base of his cock, long lashes fluttering. The woman’s hand came up to gently roll his sac around, nice and snug and warm.

He groaned, eyelids falling shut as she purred for him to relax a little more. Her hot tongue laved around the length of his cock, suckling gentle and sweet at a twitching vein. His hands fought to grip the chair but laid limp, the word ‘relax’ repeating over and over and over. He whined softly, lips falling open.

The marcher woman enveloped the ruddy tip of his cock with her mouth, hollowing and sucking at the same slow pace. She’d dig her tongue in little circles around the tip, Criston moaning her name. She drooled on purpose, slicking him up luridly. Yet the way Lady Peake behaved it was as if she were merely lending a helping hand, a kind word or act. Not sucking his cock like a trained whore.

Another whine burst from the knight’s throat as she eased him down her throat, breathing roughly through her nose. The hand cupping his balls squeezed a hair, her silky wet throat enveloped around him. She swallowed in pulses, scrambling coherency for Criston besides becoming a moaning and rambling mess.

She bobbed her head, tight throat pulling on his sensitive extra skin. Lady Peake moaned around his length, squirming and rubbing her tits up against his legs. All while taking him deep and sensual, like they had all the time in the world. The knight garbled, “L-let me, can I, y-your hair?”

“Mhmmm,” she hummed, the vibrations eliciting a low moan of pleasure. She felt so good— molding his ever twirling mind into soft clay. Mush. He carefully leaned forward, one of his hands carding into her locks, the other reaching for her breast. Criston stuttered on his compliment, balls aching.

Her nose prickled at his pubes, dark eyes hazy with pleasure. She swallowed him down repeatedly, a lazy way in which she chose the pace. Criston couldn’t jerk her around, he mindlessly pet her hair and made pathetic noises, a heat building low in his belly. It was hotter than the dragon flames he’d seen, curling and smoking.

“Oh- oh gods, pretty girl,” he gasped, cock twitching.

She hooked fingers behind his tightening balls, massaging his taint. He cried out, the heat licking up Criston’s spine now. His dark head was thrown back, throat bobbing as he drew out her name. The sweetest agony. So slow yet powerful. The tension was melting from his body, the Lord Commander drooling and downright squirming as he oozed down her throat.

“Don’t stop, s’close, yes, good baby,” he slurred.

She didn’t.

It felt like ages before she was bobbing at s rapid pace, slender digits pumping his sweet spot. Criston shivered, sweating all over and unable to speak. The fire was consuming him as he gripped her hair, whining and pleading. The band would snap soon, plunging him into white-hot ecstasy.

“Closecloseclose, seven hells,” he grunted, cock unloading into her swollen lips. He cried, gasping for air between whines as he spurt down her tight throat. All while she swallowed and moaned, nipples hard and tight for him. She pulled off, swallowing once more as she wiped her mouth, grabbing a discarded rag to wipe him off. Lady Peake rasped, “Sound so good, feeling better? I have that massage for you now.”

Criston babbled, “Yes, yes, you’re too good. Lovely. Jus- let me gather, hngh, my wits.

[melanated-writersblock]

Confessional - A Yunho Series: Prologue

Seminarian!Yunho x Black!Female!Reader

~ You and your childhood friend Yunho promised to do everything together. But as you got older, things shifted, and you began to feel differently towards each other. Now, Yunho’s joining the church and any emotions you meant to share with him will have to be disregarded. Or will they?

A/N: I'm genuinely struggling because I have so many routes I can take this story and there are so many things that I've thought about including but idk. I don't want it to be all over the place, I want to make sure the story makes sense and reads well. If there's anything you'd like to see happen, I'm always open to suggestions, my asks are open and you can always post a comment! Written with a Black Fem reader in mind but anyone can read!

Content Warning?: Nothing going on this chapter, angst if you squint? A bit of humor, a bit of wholesomeness, BUT you do have a potty mouth🤭

(Disclaimer: I do know how the hierarchy of the Catholic church works irl and this fic DOES NOT reflect that. And if you’re a devout Christian reading this and you’re mad: 1. I’m also Christian (I kinda suck at it though unfortunately) and 2. What are YOU doing reading this? That’s not very Proverbs 31 woman of you🤫)

ANYWAYYYYY LIKES ARE COOL, BUT COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE BETTER! PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! ALSO DON’T COPY MY SHIT. I WILL KNOW.

TAGLIST!!!: @starboyyoongi @woosmaid @atinytinycat @kyeos4ng LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!

How does a little boy who would spend literal hours laying in the grass stargazing, sharing dreams of traveling the world, living life unapologetically, meeting new faces and doing any and everything all at once, turn into a man who’s shut himself off from it all?

With your head bowed, you steal a glance at a praying Yunho in the adjacent pew as your Pastor leads the church congregation in a closing prayer. Your lips curve upward at Yunho’s form. His hands clasped against his chest, body hunched over, forehead resting against the back of the pew in front of him. The same way he’d always pray when you both were little. A creature of habit.

With Sunday Service concluded (finally) you make a b-line for the door as subtle and polite as you possibly can, but the endearing nature of church family wanting to see how you’re doing and what you’ve been up to stops you dead in your tracks, much to your dismay. You rush through your interactions, finding yourself more invested in how natural Yunho looks as he speaks with the Pastor, both laughing at a funny remark one of the Deacons say in passing. Damn him for being so good at this shit. You hug your last inquiring church sister and slip out before someone decides to start asking about your dating life.

The drastic change of temperature from the inside of the warmed church to the frigid December afternoon seizes your body for a second as your common sense and critical thinking comes flooding back to you in an instant…You left your coat on the fucking pew. “You’re shitting me.” your annoyed words of condensation visible in the cold air. You stare blankly between the ground, and up at the overcasted sky, your internal battle deciding if walking back inside to face the music is even worth it.

“Fuck no.”

You straighten yourself up with what little defense you have against the cold, folding your arms across your chest and nuzzling your face deeper into your thick slouched turtleneck as you make your way towards you car near the end of the parking lot. The faint sound of fast approaching footsteps get louder as someone gains up on you from behind. You feel the welcoming weight of your coat cover your back, slipping your arms in to get acclimated to the warmth of the garment as quick as possible.

“Now, you and I both know that wasn’t a good idea.” Yunho now joins you, walking in step but still a little winded from the run. “I wasn’t trying to go back in there to get bombarded by them.” You both continue towards your car, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” “Yeah it kind of is.”, “How so?” “Really?” “Well, I know but I was just wonderi-“ “Look babe, my relationship with God isn’t as tight as yours, and I’m sorry that I don’t get as much of a kick from being in church as you do” you fish your keys out of your bag to unlock your car, “not like I used to, at least.” Yunho opens the driver’s door waiting for you to get in, his eyes downcast in thought. “Then, why do you come every Sunday?” you sigh, defeated, “Not every Sunday, I only go when you’re back in town.”

You don’t know what inspired him to do it, but there was some sort of paradigm shift when you both hit puberty that made Yunho change the trajectory of his life. One minute you’re up all night watching tv and playing video games, doing each other’s class work, planning to go to the same university, get matching tattoos, share an apartment together, get careers in similar fields so your jobs can line up that way you probably end up at the same workplace, use your paid time off and sick days at the same time so you can travel and go on vacations together…he even bought you a fucking bracelet.

He bought matching fucking bracelets.

He said gold compliments the warm glow of your skin.

He got his in silver.

He never told you how much it cost, anytime you asked, he was always avoidant.

Feeling a familiar sting in the brim of your eyes, you steal yourself for a moment.

One minute it’s all this, the next, he’s going off states away to some Christian University bible college. Then when you think the war is over, he turns right back around and goes to fuckin’ seminary school to become an ordained priest. You didn’t quite understand it, but whatever makes him happy you guess.

“Whenever you tell me you’ll be back in town I come to church to see you.” “But we still hang out even outside of church? I don’t get it.” “Oh my God Yunho, just don’t worry about it.” somehow, he got you to laugh at the situation. You put your keys in the ignition as the car hums to a start. Yunho finally closes your car door, leaning on your newly rolled down window. “Do you still want me to come by later?” He earns another laugh from you, “Why do you keep asking questions that you know the answer to?” “You’re acting like plans can’t change, what if you actually had to do something!” “You know I’m not doing anything later though!” “Okay but what if you-“ “Don’t piss me off.” “Alright,” he smirks, backing away from the vehicle as you reverse out of the parking space. “Text me when you make it home safe.” He calls out as you pull out of the church parking lot, the rest of the congregation finally starting to file out of the sanctuary. Yunho smiles to himself, heading to his vehicle to leave for the day.

To be continued…

YALL OMFG the way I STRUGGLED just to get this out!?!?! Anyway I’ve decided the interactions will happen in time jumps and the tag I use for Yunho and what he’s been ordained as will reflect that.

Also, please be active. If you like the story (and you would like the other chapters to see the light of day) please let me know. Share your thoughts and stuff, you can comment and my asks are always open! And reblogs do a whole lot more than likes!

- Lai✨