#I’ve never quite taken to a suggestion like that before

[arihi]

I kept trying to say something, and Spider would interrupt me with pleasure/trance every single time. She’d wake me back up, ask what I was going to say, and interrupt me again. Eventually I took it as a non-verbal suggestion that I couldn’t say it - I knew what I wanted to say, but couldn’t form the exact words. Pantomiming worked, texting didn’t. Mind blowing.

Eventually I wound up overcoming it by describing myself wanting to say the sentence, instead of just saying it outright. If that isn’t witch magic rules lawyering, I don’t know what is. Hypnosis is bullshit. (But also magic?)

[augustinewrites]

cw: suggestive content

“the fortress of meropide takes full responsibility for the beret society incident,” wriothesley states, heaving a sigh. “it was…an unfortunate oversight on my part.”

“it’s not entirely your fault,” clorinde tells him. “don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“thanks,” he grins, slightly surprised by her attempt at comforting him. “never thought i’d see the day—”

“don’t push it.” 

“come on, just admit that we’re best friends!” 

neuvillette clears his throat, like a parent would before lecturing a child. “what steps have you taken on behalf of those affected? many families of the victims have written to my office, requesting indemnification. it’s been explained that the court of fontaine holds no jurisdiction over the fortress. the matter falls into the hands of the warden.”

“i’ve moved some funds around to properly compensate everyone who was affected.” he answers, handing over a report outlining the details. “i’ve also compensated the doctor you sent to the fortress quite generously, as she’s taken on the responsibility of overseeing their continued care.” 

neuvillette chuckles quietly as he reads the report. “is ‘compensate’ new slang for 'intercourse?'”

one beat of silence. then two. clorinde snickers behind her teacup. wriothesley briefly considers swan-diving into the primordial sea. 

“why— why would you ask that?” he sputters instead.

the chief justice simply continues on reading, oblivious to the scandalized reaction of his companions. “oh, calm yourself, your grace. i was merely jesting, no need for anyone to be embarrassed.”

“yeah, if you’re him,” clorinde scoffs, jerking her thumb in his direction. “but if you’re the doctor in this situation…” 

“okay, your best friend status has officially been revoked. and you, chief justice! since when do you jest?”

“since it’s come to my attention that you both hold great affection for one another. sigewinne corresponds quite frequently with the other melusines here at palais mermonia. we know all about you and the doctor’s whispers of desire.”

clorinde chokes on the pastry she’s eating as wriothesley rises abruptly, his face suddenly hot. he swears the tea they’d been sharing is laced with something. “okay, you have my report, this meeting is over.” 

_____

“i got bullied by the chief justice and a champion duelist today,” your boyfriend pouts as he joins you in bed.

you bite back a smile as he pushes his head against your chest, snuggling contentedly against the silk of your chemise. 

“i’m having a hard time believing monsieur neuvillette would do such a thing.”

he releases a long, dramatic sigh as your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp. “can you do me a favour and tell him, in explicit detail, just how well i’m ‘compensating’ you?”

wriothesley yelps when you pinch the shell of his ear. “oh, hush,” you laugh, kissing the top of his head. 

not one to be outdone, the duke sits up, effortlessly trapping you beneath him and nosing at the column of your neck. you shudder as his teeth graze your ear in retaliation, your hand gripping the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck. 

“wait,” you gasp as you feel his lips form the beginning of what you know will be a very visible hickey tomorrow. “do you hear that?”

your boyfriend draws back to look down at you, concerned. “hear what?”

“it sounds like…a whisper of desire.”

“hey!”

[rangerbarbz]

Study Sessions

“Study Sessions”

Author’s Note: Had some time to start another blurb! (After reading Book of Bill I’m thinking about writing about Ford possessed by Bill idk) I hope y’all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think lovelies <3 EDIT: OH MY GOODNESS I DID NOT SEE ALL THE INBOX REPLIES I HAD I AM SO SORRRYYYY I HAVE SOME REQUEST IDEAS IN THERE I’D LOVE TO DO 

You had conquered every single class at Backupsmore with either an A or a B as your final grade. You wouldn’t say you were a genius by any means, but you took pride in your schoolwork and wished to graduate as soon as possible. This changed when you began taking physics. You had never been so stumped by a subject. The equations, the laws, and the Godforsaken labs were the bane of your existence. 

Your determined nature refused to let you fail, so you decided to ask your professor for help. He began doting on his star student Stanford Pines who had taken his class the previous semester and was excelling through the upper level classes. Your professor suggested reaching out to him because he had recently become a S.I. for the introductory physics and chemistry courses. He handed you a Post-It note with his name and the hours when he was going to be in the library. 

After your last class of the day, you strolled over to the library on campus, nervous for your first session. He was so smart and you were afraid that he would get frustrated with how little you understood this subject. You made your way to the S.I. lab on campus and tapped your knuckle on the wooden door that was open. There was no one at any of the tables, but there were scattered notebook paper scribbled on and a textbook open. 

“Hello?” you called, looking around for a sign of anyone. Suddenly, a head popped up from underneath the table. He had ruffled brown hair and black, square glasses. 

“Hello!” the man replied, getting up from the floor. “Sorry about that. I had dropped my pen before you walked in.” He then sat on the rolling chair and scooted it closer to the table. “I’m Stanford, but you can call me Ford. I assume you’re here for physics help?” 

You smiled. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Ford. Yes, I am here for physics. My professor recommended you to me.” You placed your backpack on the floor and sat in the chair beside him. “I just want to go ahead and warn you, I’ve had trouble in this class. I hope I don’t frustrate you too much.” 

Ford chuckled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know you’re a smart girl. Do you have any homework that needs to be completed?” You felt your face become warm. Smart girl. You enjoyed him calling you that. There was nothing quite like academic praise to a scholar. 

“Uh, yes I do actually,” you answered, not letting your train of thought derail. You pulled your binder from the first pocket of your backpack and set it on the table in front of you two. “It’s ten problems, so if I miss more than three of them that means I have a D,” you continued as you removed the worksheet from the rings. “I am shooting for at least a C in the class overall.” 

He grinned at you like he was happy about doing physics. “Well, I believe you’re going to get no less than an A in that class.” You laughed at his confidence in you. 

“I don’t know about that, but I appreciate it, Ford,” you replied, twirling your pencil between your fingers. You gazed into his eyes; the sunlight from the window brought out hints of gold in his dark brown irises. Wow, they were so pretty.

He then cocked his head to the side. “Pardon? Did you just say ‘pretty?’” he asked with a smile tugging at his lips. 

Your face immediately became hot. Oh my God you spoke out loud not meaning to. Okay how do you save this conversation. You laughed nervously. “Pretty excited to start learning that is! Ha! Let’s get started, please. I can’t wait!” you exclaimed, all in one breath. 

Ford nodded. “What a great attitude to have, Y/N!” He then picked up his pencil and began to explain the first problem to you. He was so good at going into detail about every little thing. He was patient with you as well which was good because he kept on distracting you. 

The more you focused on him, the more features you noticed. His glasses had scratches on the wire rims, he had a prominent, square jaw, and he had unkempt sideburns. He was so damn good looking it made you want to study thermodynamics forever if it meant you got to look at him. 

You had actually gone through the homework quicker than you thought you would, so Ford asked if you would want to practice some extra problems on the blackboard. Of course you agreed. You walked up to the board ready to write whatever he threw at you but feeling self-conscious about being the center of his attention like this. He was still sitting at the table reciting the equation back to you while you stood out in the open. You then pushed your insecurity to the side in order to show him you had actually learned something today. He carefully observed you as you wrote, watching the cogs in your brain turn. He also was watching the way your face contorted in concentration and the way your fingers tapped against the chalk tray. 

“Alright. I think I’m done, Ford.” You moved to the side so he could see your final answer. 

He smiled at you, putting his hands on his knees to get up. “Let’s see what ya got,” he responded, walking over to stand beside you. You didn’t realize when he was sitting how tall he was compared to you or how broad his chest was. He began to mumble under his breath, making sure there were no mistakes present. “Everything looks good Y/N!” He then turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours. 

“You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Look at what you accomplished in just this short amount of time! If you keep on coming to my sessions, I know you can get through this class without worry.” Ford paused and looked back at the board, hands held behind his back. “It would make me happy to see you succeed.” 

You beamed back at him. Would it be inappropriate to kiss him right now? 

You (obviously) continued going to Ford’s S.I. sessions because your grade improved with each one you went to. You had also spent some time outside of the library together  by doing some photography of the wildlife around campus while Ford doodled in his sketchbook. People usually clocked him as an introvert, but he was not like that with you. He had opened up quite a bit to you about his past and what he wanted to do in the future. 

Today, you had met Ford on a bench outside his dormitory after your physics class had let out to share some good news with him. “Ford!” you called out. He looked up to see you waving a paper marked with an A+ in red ink. “Guess who got the highest grade in the class on the test last week?” you squealed. 

“Yes!” Ford said triumphantly, standing up quickly to pump his fists in the air. His sketchbook fell to the ground with some of the loose papers coming out. “I’m so proud of you!” You put your hands on his strong shoulders and jumped up and down. 

“Thank you thank you thank you! I’m just tickled pink right now,” you responded happily, bending down to pick up his drawings before the wind caught them. Ford’s face suddenly fell.

“Oh here I’ll get that,” he started, kneeling down on the concrete beside you. He was trying to pick up the papers that fell out as fast as possible, but you were faster. 

Your eyes grew wide as you picked up a paper with drawings of a woman reading a textbook, in a tree taking a picture of a bird, and one where she was just laughing. They were all you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked at them. They were so beautiful. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I- I can explain,” Ford stammered. “I- I have…liked you for a while now. You just are always on my mind, so I end up drawing you sometimes.”

“I like you too,” you cut him off. 

His face was flushed beyond belief. “I, well, uh-” 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you stated. Ford’s eyebrows lifted as you closed the gap between you with a sweet kiss. He let out the tiniest sigh at the contact, his eyes fluttering close. You held his face in your hands and separated your lips from his to see his reaction. He was still blushing with a goofy smile on his lipstick stained face. 

“That was nice. Should’ve done that sooner,” he joked. You giggled and began to kiss him rapidly on his cheeks and forehead. You had left red stains of your lips with each smooch you gave him. 

“Yeah, you should have, smart guy.” He rolled his eyes and held your chin between his thumb and index finger to pull you in for another kiss. You smiled against his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell Fiddleford about this,” Ford murmured. 

“ And I can’t wait to see Fiddleford’s reaction to my assault on your face,” you laughed.

[novemberheart]

{overview} It’s time for you to meet your new pack. John and Kyle have an unexpected reaction to your arrival. Your place in the pack may not be as permanent as you think……

{warnings} John is a bit of an a-hole, cursing, female reader, that's about it

Chapter 2 <- Chapter 3 -> Chapter 4

“How do you think Simon’ll feel about this?” Johnny piqued up.

John looked up from his paperwork over to where Johnny was sprawled out on the couch in his office. The Scot had just finished a new charcoal masterpiece that would be hung in their living area.

“To be quite honest I'm not sure how I feel about it.” John sighed, standing up and stretching. His shoulders cracked quietly from being hunched over the oak desk.

“It's a big decision- one that he wasn't a part of.” Johnny reasoned. John nodded his head in agreement. “That’ll make him sour.”

“It might.” John agreed again. “Worst case scenario we could always send her back.”

Johnny was taken aback for a moment. Surprised that John would even suggest such a thing. Then he realized it wasn't John he was talking to, it was his Captain. The man who would do anything for the sake of his team- even at the expense of others. Not that he hadn’t been guilty of that either.

“Guess that's true,” Johnny said quietly.

“Let's go make sure the mother hen has eaten.” John sighed, a soft smile on his face. Johnny followed suit, the image of Kyles's face scrunching at the nickname crossing his mind.

You had never been this nervous in your life. Your knees twitching with an overload of adrenaline.

“Your scent will throw them off.” Kate nearly gagged from next to you.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You shot back. Your hands knotted in your white sweater. “I think I’m going to be sick.” You whined, causing the driver to turn around slightly.

“There’s bags under your seat.” He practically shouted.

“Good to know, thanks.” You began to reach down before Kate stopped you.

“Will you please pull yourself together? You have had a waiting list of Alphas and packs who have wanted you since I’ve known you.” Kate reminded, her hands gripping yours tightly.

“That’s sweet Kate bu”-

“Shush. If this doesn't work out, which it will work out- you give me one phone call and I'll have you out of there before those hardheads figure out what they've lost. Deal.” It was the assurance you needed. You weren't going to be stranded here. You should know better by now that Kate has always had your best interest at heart.

“Thank you.” You breathed. She nodded her head, her senses finally getting a break from eye-watering sour. “There really a waiting list?” You questioned curiously. She glared at you out of the side of her vision but begrudgingly nodded her head.

“Bout five minutes till we get there.” The driver warned. You stopped yourself from stumbling back into a panic episode. Kate was right, if they caught one whiff of you right now, they'd send you back. “Would you be offended if I rolled down a window?” the driver nearly begged.

“No.” You mumbled.

About three of the five minutes away it started to pour.

“That's fitting.” Kate sighed. “Grab your raincoat,” she commanded. You rolled your eyes, already pulling the yellow coat out of your bag.

“Yes, Ma’am.” You snarked, almost waiting for her to jab you with her elbow.

The car finally stopped. Kate's phone ‘tinged’ at that very moment.

“They’re waiting for us inside. Ready?” She asked, her eyes a bit scared like she was worried you were going to back out.

You took a deep breath.

“Ready.”

You and Kate quickly made your way inside a large gray building, your oversized hood proving its worth.

“John, Kyle.” Kate greeted, as both of you wiped your feet on the mat. You took one last look outside, peeling off your hood just in time for the door to shut. The action caused a gust of your scent to hit John and Kyle in the face.

A pleased growl echoed in the Alpha's chest. He raised his hand to his mouth, pressing his thumb and pointer finger against his nose, shocked at his reaction. The Beta on the other hand chose to press his shoulder against the wall to keep himself steady. Your scent reached a part of his brain he didn't even know was there.

“I apologize.” The alpha was the first to speak after he had lowered his hand. The purr in his chest began again, but he quickly cleared his throat, halting it. He flushed slightly, embarrassed by his lack of control. His mind was buzzing, the nearly uncontrollable desire to grab you and roll around in your scent was taking all of his restraint. He clenched his jaw, his canines beginning to ache.

“It's alright,” you assured quietly. Truth be told you hadn't heard a sound like that before. All the alphas you knew had been female. It made your insides weak, especially coming from a possible mate. Both men grew quiet, their eyes scanning you up and down as if you were a foreign creature. You suppose to them- you were.

“John.” You looked at the broad alpha. “And Kyle right?” You asked, turning toward the almost equally broad beta.

“God, where are my manners?” John sighed quietly to himself. “It's nice to meet you. I'm John and that's Kyle. Johnny is still in the medical ward, with Simon.”

“Kate told me about that. Was sorry to hear.” You offered up your sympathy. He gave you a polite smile.

“Figured me and Kyle could show you around and then we’ll head over there so you can meet everyone else,” John explained.

“Sounds good.” You smiled back.

“Bags?” John questioned.

“Oh, there in the car.” you winced looking out at the raging storm.

“I'll get it!” Kyle volunteered quickly, accidentally bumping into Kate on his way out.

“This way,” John spoke softly. His hand rested on your upper back guiding you out of the gray warehouse-type building. Kate followed behind, her eyes trained on his hand. She couldn't wait for the ‘I told you so’s.’

Once you left the building you were outside again- luckily this time the sidewalks were covered. You did enjoy how green everything was. Despite the cold, modern buildings- it was easy to breathe here. “It’s easier to take a cart,” John explained, guiding you into the passenger seat. Kate got in the back, not bothering to suppress the smirk across her face. John’s eyes were too trained on you to notice.

“What about Kyle?” you asked as John began to pull away.

“He’ll find his way back home. He always does.” He smiled, causing you to chuckle. Truth be told he knew his beta needed a moment to clear his senses.

You weaved through the building till you got to the housing areas- which unfortunately weren't covered.

“Shite day out,” John grumbled.

“I like the rain.” You hummed absentmindedly. Something about it felt so healing. John's eyes flickered over to you, watching for a moment as you surveyed your surroundings.

“Here we are.” John huffed, pulling his burly frame out of the cart. It instantly rose without his weight in it, causing you and Kate to giggle. You entered another large gray building, this one tall and commanding. There were lots of windows, the dark cloudy day making it easy to see inside. John held the door open for you and you pulled off the side with a small ‘thank you.’

“Stairs or elevator?” John asked, turning over his shoulder.

“Elevator,” Kate answered for you. John's lips quirk upwards.

“Elevator it is.” He led you both to the elevator, holding his arm out to make sure the door didn't try to close on either of you. He pressed the number eight.

“Is that the top floor?” You questioned. The elevator was fast, you swore you could feel your hair being pushed down.

“Yeah. It's almost like a flat.” John explained. The elevator doors rolled open, to reveal a long hallway. One side is littered with doors, the other with large windows.

“Wow.” You whispered, stopping to take in the view. You could see nearly everything from here. The base was surrounded by trees. You could only imagine how magnificent it was without all the clouds and fog. You followed John and passed the doors until you reached the very last one.

“This is us.” He held up a key card, a light flicking green from the door. “We’re still waiting for yours, you can just use Simon’s till we get it.”

As soon as you walked in there was a galley kitchen. Composed of light oak and white stone countertops. “Here's laundry and storage,” John explained walking through the kitchen to the two french doors at the end of the galley. “Dining area,” he explained, resting his hand on the counter. There were six stools pulled up to the counter. The kitchen overlooked the living area, which took up the majority of the home. There was a plush L-shaped, couch facing a large TV on the wall. Facing into the living room was a series of doors. The one on the right closest to the kitchen was Johnny’s, then a bathroom. “You’ll be sharing this with Johnny and Kyle. Not to worry they’re clean boys.” John assured. Next to the bathroom was Kyle’s room. On the other side of the living room, across from Kyle’s room was Simon's room. Next to Simon’s room was your room, and then next to yours was John's room.

You did feel a bit safer sandwiched between the two alphas of the pack.

But you didn't like the fact you would have to traipse through the living room every time you needed to use the bathroom.

Next to Simon’s door was the door leading out to the patio. It was nice a spacious, but the only thing out there was an ashtray balancing on one of the bars. Beside the TV were two big windows that you knew you would spend a lot of time staring out of.

Maybe Kate could by you a lawn chair as a housewarming gift.

“It's nice.” You said at the end of the tour.

“It gets the job done.”

It was finally time for Kyle to make his way in with your bags. You had one suitcase and a duffle. He carried it like it was empty. You opened your new bedroom door for him, and he set it down without letting his feet cross the threshold.

“I'm sorry I didn't get to properly introduce myself earlier. I'm Kyle, Kyle Garrick.” His voice was smooth and confident compared to the way he bolted from you earlier.

“It's okay, Kyle.” You smiled, finding yourself a bit lost in his warm eyes. John cleared his throat behind you two causing the trances to break.

“How about we all go get some lunch? Wait for the rain to die down then head over to medical?”

Sounded good to you.

Hello everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope the room setup isn’t too confusing! I’ll post a little render of their home and link it here! See you in two days for chapter 4! 🧡

[stevenose]

i’m high lol but here’s a little write up of what i posted here a few days ago!

contains: gender unspecified reader; blowjobs; inexperienced steve :0; steve losing his mind over a basic blowie

“bad day?”

“you don’t even know the half of it,” steve sighs. he lets his head fall back gently while you kiss from his lips to his neck. “sorry i’m late, know the movie was supposed to start at seven —“

“it’s okay.” you cradle his face in your hands. steve almost swoons. you look at him like you love him, and you’ve only been going steady and exclusive for a month. and he’s starting to look at you that way, too. “let’s stay in, huh? you’ve had enough of movies anyway.”

he laughs, hands resting on your waist. you kiss the side of his neck again, then all the way up to his ear. “need some stress relief?”

steve’s tummy flutters, cock stirring at even the slightest thought of you on top of him. “mhm,” he mumbles, squeezing your hips.

you hum and make your way back down his neck, taking your time now to suck on his skin. he relaxes, enjoying it, wondering when you’re going to move him from the kitchen to your bed - or at least the couch.

your hands make their way towards his waistband. you tuck your fingers underneath it and steve gasps a little. it’s embarrassing, but now he’s thinking you’re going to have him fuck you on the table. that you’re going to take him out right here and mount him on the tile and —

you’re dropping to your knees.

steve’s brows quirk. he looks down at you quizzically, the action not quite clicking with him. it doesn’t click until you’re pulling down his zipper and staying there, obedient on your knees.

oh. oh.

“hey!” steve says, a little panicked, taking a step back.

you’re taken aback by his reaction, holding your hands up and frowning at him. “steve, i’m sorry —“

“what - uhhhh - what were you, um, gonna do?”

you blink at him. pausing to see if you’re missing something. “give you head?”

steve swallows. the way his cock kicks does not go unnoticed by either of you. “oh. uh - um. no one’s ever really, you know. i’ve never had… that… before.”

he can tell you’re not understanding and his cheeks turn pink. “you haven’t had head?”

“well, no.”

your head quirks. “oh. i… would not have guessed.”

there’s a long silence. steve feels so stupid, turning you down like this, his zipper open and cock so hard it’s starting to bulge out. he looks down, then back up, and opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, anything, but he’s a little speechless.

“do you not like it? or has it never been offered to you?”

steve shakes his head.

“which one?” you push, your lips quirking up.

“um - it’s never really been suggested.”

your brows raise and fall quickly. “do you want to try?”

“wouldn’t it hurt?” he blurts out. feels his face turning red again.

“not usually,” you say. “what, steve, you think you’re gonna choke me with that thing?”

he nods slowly.

“you probably will,” you say, almost dreamily. his cock twitches again. “i think that’s sort of the appeal of it.”

“what if i… what if it feels so good i hurt you?”

you laugh now, resting on your heels. “i don’t really mind.”

he can’t believe he’s this freaked out over a blowjob. you’re just so sweet and pretty and steve’s a little reckless sometimes - knows there’s a strong possibility of him fucking your face, making you gag, making your eyes water and oh my god why am i getting harder?

“c’mere, steve,” you call, beckoning him with your finger. “if you don’t like it, i can stop.”

but when you start, christ. steve couldn’t possibly tell you to stop. not with the drool dripping down his cock and disappearing past his balls, not when his head feels so light and his stomach somersaults like this. you make him feel so good, taking nearly all of him into your mouth in relatively quick time. your hand grips the base of him, twisting it around his cock, your spit acting as lube.

he’s going to toss and turn all night wondering why you’re so good at this. who you practiced on. how jealous he is that he’s not been your first, your one and only.

but for now, he’s focused on not falling over. your hands grip his thighs. they shake, all the way to his ankles, and he doesn’t even have anything to fall back on. but he isn’t strong enough to ask to move to a seated position. he might explode if you stop for even a second.

“oh, baby, baby, baby,” he blabs. doesn’t even really know what he’s saying. head back, eyes closed, a hand tangled in your hair solely to stay grounded. he wants to fuck his hips so bad into the tight wetness of your throat but he knows better. that you’ll choke, splutter, get all teary eyed and oh my god why is that making me so hard?

steve steals a glance down at you and groans. your hair’s a mess, eyes wet when you look up and him. your chin spit-slick. “so goddamn pretty,” he breathes, gently scratching the top of your head with his blunt fingertips. “jesus, angel, that — shit, feels so good.”

he’s about to snap. you pull off of him, which is both a relief and a frustration. your hand moves, though, while you talk up at him, voice a little raw. “knew you’d like it,” you breathe. “you taste so good, steve. so pretty getting your cock sucked.”

steve gets real stupid when you give him attention. he’s just saying words now, no idea what they mean. just babble. he’s relieved again when his stomach starts tensing. doesn’t want to cum down your throat. jesus, that would be so embarrassing —

your mouth is back on him.

“babe!” he almost shouts. “oh, goddamn it - wait-! i’m gonna — i’m gonna —“

you look up at him. all determined. and he gets it.

and then he can’t stop.

he’s spilling into you, and you move his cock farther into your throat so he can really cum in it. but it’s like steve’s body acts on its own. his hand tangles harsh in your hair and he ruts his hips slow into your mouth, shallowly, tip just kissing your throat.

he feels disgusting about it ten seconds after he’s done. pulls his cock out of your mouth and moves his hand away from your head. “shit, i’m sorry, im so sorry, i didn’t mean to—“

“steve,” you say. voice so sexy, all fucked out. “that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever done.” you kiss his tummy, nuzzling your nose into it. “you can use my mouth anytime, you know.”

steve groans. wants to tell you to stop talking like that because he’s going to be hard again.

“you really are hard to take,” you continue, kissing across his skin to one of his hip bones. “going to have to train my throat to take it, stevie.”

and, okay. now he is hard again.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Sulky | Jeno Imagine #12

Title: Sulky

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mildly suggestive, a little making out towards the end

Word Count: 952

Author's Note: Alright, I know I literally just posted something for Jeno a few days ago. But this idea was just living rent free in my mind, and I just couldn't resist writing it. I know you guys like this stuff too, so I thought writing this couldn't hurt. I'm Jaemin biased, but Jeno is just so cute especially when he's sulky. Anyway hope you guys like it ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Now, it was no secret to anyone that Jeno got sulky easily. When you two first started seeing each other, you found it quite funny how things could so easily hurt such a tough, masculine guy. Of course, you’re usually able to provide him with enough reassurance to make him a smiley puppy again. Teasing your partner was never in your nature. But you’d occasionally step out of character just because Jeno’s reactions were hilarious.

The two of you were lounging on the couch in his apartment’s living room, mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You paused when you came across some photos from his recent concert. While you admired how fiercely handsome your boyfriend looked on stage, another member unintentionally caught your eye.

“Wah, Jaemin looks amazing in that stage outfit,” you remarked, showing him the picture. “I can’t imagine all the screams from fans when they saw his abs.”

Jeno glanced at the photo and shrugged, his expression unchanging. “I mean, it’s nothing new. Everyone knows Jaemin works out, so I don’t think that many people were surprised.”

At first, you didn’t even notice your boyfriend’s lack of interest in the subject, too preoccupied with scrolling through more photos of his attractive member. In fact, you found his comment a bit hard to believe.

“No, but the lighting from the stage makes you see how perfectly defined and sculpted his abs are!” you said in awe, as you came across a close-up picture that a fan had taken.

Your boyfriend’s grip tightened on his phone, and he shot you a sideways glance. To him, it was almost as if you had forgotten he was sitting right beside her. 

“My stage outfit showed my abs too, you know,” he muttered.

The hint of sulkiness in his voice was something you caught immediately, and that's when you realized he was jealous. Although it wasn’t your intention to make him feel this way, you couldn’t help but find the pout on his lips adorable. Deciding to push his limits just a little, you feigned obliviousness to his growing discomfort over your sudden interest in Jaemin.

Leaning back on the couch, you sighed. “Well yeah, but I’ve already seen your abs plenty of times. Not that I find them boring now, but…”

Jeno’s pout deepened and he whined softly, his jealousy now clearly evident. You bit your lip, stifling a laugh because he was just so endearing like this. However, your innocent teasing soon backfired. 

Determined to make his point, he sat up and lifted his shirt, revealing his own well-defined abs, a testament to his consistent workouts. Before you could even say anything, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his firm stomach with an intense gaze.

“Tell me, who do you prefer,” he demanded in a dark yet calm voice. “Jaemin or me?”

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and your breath slightly hitched at the sudden contact. Feeling the ridge of his muscles beneath your fingers quickly brought out your instinctive shyness. You rarely saw this possessive side of Jeno.

“Jeno…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. You searched your brain for something to say, but you were too flustered to find the right words.

“That’s what I thought,” he interrupted, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

Before you could pull away, Jeno leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft yet demanding, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone. As the moments passed and his lips showed no signs of moving, you closed your eyes and gently placed your hand under his jaw. One of his hands was already on your waist and as he felt you kiss back, he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss with a tender urgency. 

His lips moved against yours hungrily, the only sound of the room the soft smacking of kisses. The kiss deepened, and you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring with a slow, deliberate intensity. Your lips molded together, warm and yielding, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. The subtle, rhythmic movement of his mouth against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but respond with equal fervor.

When you finally parted, you needed a moment to catch your breath. Jeno’s gaze remained fixed on you, silently seeking reassurance, his eyes revealing a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course I prefer you,” you replied, looking at him as if the answer were obvious. “Jaemin’s visuals might be impressive, but you know I only have eyes for you.”

Jeno’s grin widened, and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back to your previous cuddling position. “Good,” he said, sinking comfortably into the couch cushions with you.

Soon after, his tone turned playful yet still a bit possessive. “But I’m still putting you on a Na Jaemin ban from now on.”

The lingering sulkiness in his comment made you want to roll your eyes. But instead, you laughed and rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You knew that protesting would be useless, and he’d get over it eventually.

Yet, you also knew that what you and Jeno had was unbreakable. With how much you two loved each other, you were inseparable, no matter how sulky he got.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[hairyjocktf]

The New Cub

Jaden was a real estate agent in Denver, and quite a good one at that. He prided himself on that fact, having been the top agent at his firm for four years running. He was only 27 too, having gotten his license after high school with ease. Once he got that first commission check he never looked back. This had been a big week for him, closing a deal on a multi-million dollar house that was netting him a nice bonus. It’d taken a lot of work and effort, but as he walked into his apartment just hours after the signing he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d planned to take a few days off as a reward, some time to pamper himself like he deserved. He walked into his room, stripping off the well fitted blazer before undoing the buttons on his shirt. Water gushed from the faucet as he filled his tub with a warm bath and opened the windows, letting in that cool fall air. His belt and pants fell to the floor next as he admired his slim body in the mirror. 

Jaden was the ideal twink, with a tall and thin form that he kept supple and hairless with a meticulous daily routine. He slowly rubbed his hands down over his tight stomach, feeling the smooth skin he loved before sliding off his underwear. The warm water bubbled as he stepped in, sliding his body below the surface as water cascaded across his shaved legs. The tension in his shoulders melted away, the water sapping away the stress of the week. Birdsong echoed in through the open windows, and Jaden entered a state of pure relaxation. For all of five minutes, at least. Unable to be alone with his thoughts for too long, his long, near skeletal arm reached from the tub and grasped his phone. This may be his vacation but he sure wasn’t going to spend it at home relaxing.

He quickly opened up grindr. He glanced at the dozens of messages from the last few days but didn’t open a single one, opting instead to scroll and scroll, unsure of what he was actually looking for. Every few seconds he would get a tap or message, he knew his profile worked. It had for years, with his perfectly smooth and slim body appealing to a wide audience. He normally went for the tech guys who were in perfect shape, but that didn’t seem appealing today. Neither did a younger twink. He was about to put the app down when he got a message from what looked to be a guy in his late 30s, but in great shape. Good definition, and fully shaved, he noted.

“Afternoon gorgeous,” the message said, “got any weekend plans? Been looking for a handsome man to spoil a bit.” Jaden paused. Normally he didn’t care for offers like this, but he’d been unsatisfied from anything else so far. Plus, this was his weekend to spoil himself, why not let someone else help out? He typed out a response.

“Hey there :) Would love to be treated nice this weekend, what do you suggest?” He read it and deleted it all in disgust. “Thanks babe, I’d say I deserve a bit of spoiling this weekend, what's your offer?” he typed again, and then sent. A few seconds later a reply had already shown up.

“I’ve got a nice house with a mountain view, and I can promise the best meal of your life and the best sex you’ll ever have. Your choice for the details, of course,” the man said with a winky emoji. Not having to cook dinner was pretty appealing, and if it turned out to be mediocre he could always leave. It was just the first night of his time off after all. 

“Sounds lovely,” Jaden sent back, “Where’s this beautiful estate of yours?” A location appeared just seconds later. It was out in the western fringes of the city, a hefty drive. He knew the neighborhood though, and it was a nice one. Couldn’t hurt to give this guy a shot, he thought, rising out of the now lukewarm tub waters.

After a lengthy session of getting ready, Jaden set out for this luxury evening he’d been promised. The sun was already beginning to dip in the sky, promising a lovely sunset over the mountains. He pulled off the highway after about thirty minutes, navigating the twisting residential roads before finally arriving at a slightly secluded house at the top of a ridge. His first reaction was to how beautiful the property was, being a realtor and all. The view the man had offered seemed to be true, now he just had to test the rest of it. He checked himself in the rear view mirror, making sure his hair was tufted just right before stepping out into the cool evening air. He walked up the steps to a heavy oak door and rang the bell, hearing it echo inside. Heavy footsteps shook the ground as they approached, the door unlocked, and Jaden’s eyes went wide.

The man in the doorway was not the man he’d seen on grindr. This guy was a full-fledged daddy bear, older, fatter, and much, much hairier. He answered the door in just his tight underwear, showing off his large body that was completely coated in hair. Numerous tattoos were buried under the fur, barely recognizable. A thick salt and pepper beard adorned his face, which wore a wide grin.

“Well look at you kiddo, glad you showed!” the man said with a deep, smoky voice.

Jaden was taken aback, he’d never been in this situation. It wasn’t like the photos he saw were just a little out of date, this was an entirely different guy! At a loss of what to say, all he managed to get out was, “You… you’re not the guy in the pics!”

The man laughed, “Oh those photos, they were of my last project, don’t worry about them. Name’s Glenn. Why don’t you come in?” He took a step forward and reached out his hand.

Jaden’s brain was on red alert, he’d been catfished, lied to, and he needed to leave immediately. The old man in front of him was not at all what he was into, but that was the least of his concern at this point. What did he mean by ‘last project’? Why would he use pics that weren’t him? 

But suddenly, as Glenn stepped forward, a warm air washed over him coming from inside. It was smoky, almost rustic, but also smelled strongly of sweat and musk. His numerous trains of thought came to a screeching halt. He took a deep inhale through his nose, the smell dulling his senses in a way he couldn’t possibly notice. The outstretched hand looked so welcoming suddenly, and hadn’t he been promised dinner? The worries about the man were quickly fading, replaced by feelings of comfort. He took Glenn’s hand and stepped through the doorway without another thought. 

The inside of the house was larger than he’d expected, decorated almost in the style of a mountain cabin. It was cozy, with lots of bookshelves and wood paneling that had fallen out of style among his customers, but he strangely liked it here. Glenn led him through multiple rooms until reaching a large patio overlooking the mountains, the sunset still gaining colors in the background. Glenn sat him down on a large sofa.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back with some food,” he said before trotting back into the house. Jaden stared out over the vista, wondering briefly why he’d said yes, before that thought too fell out of his mind. His mind was relaxed, yet a little foggy, almost similar to the feeling of poppers. He slouched further into the cushions waiting for Glenn to return with whatever feast he’d prepared. He caught himself even drooling at the thought, which shook him somewhat out of his daze, he couldn’t be acting like that. Just then Glenn walked back out with a huge plate of lamb chops, still sizzling. He set it down on a nearby table and motioned for Jaden to join him.

He sat down at the table and looked over the spread Glenn had prepared. The man hadn’t lied, it was an impressive feast. Jaden usually didn’t eat red meat but something about tonight felt different. As soon as Glenn sat down that same strong scent returned. This time it was more pungent, more reminiscent of the smell of sweat, and it made that foggy feeling return stronger than it’d initially been. But Jaden forgot about it when Glenn looked over with a smile.

“I think you’ll like this, son, it’s a tried and true family recipe after all!” he exclaimed before digging in. The word son rang in Jaden’s ears for a moment before he too dug into the food.

Despite his previous aversion to red meat he scarfed it down; it was absolutely delicious. He barely had time to speak in between bites, but Glenn didn’t seem to mind, watching Jaden devour the meal he’d prepared. Soon enough, his plate was empty, and Glenn admired the bulging stomach he could see pressing against Jaden’s tight shirt.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Jaden said between burps. What was going on with him? First eating all that food and now burping like some degenerate caveman? But he was far past caring, already entering a sort of food coma. Glenn got up and went back to the couch, gesturing for Jaden to follow. He did so eagerly and tucked himself under Glenn’s open arm. Jaden would have never previously hooked up with a bear, but he was surprised to enjoy the feeling of a large furry body embracing him. Even more surprising was how obviously his dick sprang to life in his pants when Glenn’s hand dipped under the fabric. Glenn pulled Jaden closer to him, smiling at him as he stealthily attached a testosterone patch on Jaden’s back. It was time to see how far he could take this one.

The combination of Glenn’s powerful musk and enormous meal had Jaden completely subdued, ready to accept anything. His thick hands glided over Jaden’s smooth skin, sending shivers through his body. No other guy had been this effective with just his hands. Glenn ramped it up from there, kissing up and down Jaden’s body, feeling him shudder with pleasure. He rubbed his own hairy body against Jaden’s hairless one, subliminally inflicting him with desires yet to be realized. He couldn’t wait to see what Jaden would become. The next few hours were a blur as the sun fell below the mountains and the stars lit their passionate embrace. Glenn edged Jaden for hours, keeping him on the brink of ecstasy. He could feel the prickle of hairs as they began resurfacing in Jaden’s shaved groin. Finally after hours he let Jaden finish, spraying cum all over his slim body. Glenn massaged it into his skin as they cuddled, and Jaden passed out shortly after. That was just the beginning, Glenn thought to himself as he applied another patch to the sleeping Jaden’s body. 

Jaden arose the next morning to the smell of breakfast in the making; Glenn was preparing another feast for him. His body was still sore from the night before, causing him to groan as he got out of the bed. Glenn poked his head into the room.

“Morning, handsome,” he said with a chipper voice, “food’s almost ready!”

“I appreciate it but I should probably head out,” Jaden replied, looking for his clothes on the floor.

“Naw, what’re you sayin’ that for? We’ve got plenty more time,” Glenn assured him, stepping further into the room. That same familiar musk washed over Jaden again, and just like that he was more agreeable.

“You’re right, and I’m starving,” he said with renewed energy. Glenn came back moments later with a platter stuffed with waffles, bacon, what must have been a dozen eggs, and more. The urge to stuff himself again took hold of Jaden, who tore his way through the breakfast. Glenn watched with a grin, seeing Jaden’s belly puff out just a little more than the night before. They spent the rest of the day cuddling, making out, having more sex. Jaden was in heaven, not noticing when Glenn applied new patches to his back after the first ones had fallen off. His thoughts about getting back to his apartment faded while Glenn’s thick scent fogged up his head. It all felt so good, why would he want to leave?

That evening they showered together, Glenn’s sweat covering Jaden along with his own cum. He sensually washed Jaden’s body with his custom soap, scented like pine and infused some ingredients to encourage hair growth. He felt up and down Jaden’s body, noticing some areas that weren’t quite so smooth anymore. Hairs had begun to surface not only in his groin, but across his thighs, and even on his chest. Just small pinpricks for now. As they were drying off afterward Glenn placed another patch under Jaden’s shoulder blade. He also noticed how Jaden’s previously boney frame had softened just a tad. 

The days continued to pass in a similar manner, Glenn and Jaden spending every moment intertwined as Glenn slowly but surely molded Jaden. He was changing day by day from the definition of a twink to something else. Brown stubble sprouted sparsely across his chin and lip, his chest had begun to push out into soft pecs adorned with their own fuzz. His previously shaved armpits had stubble pushing out, with new hairs joining each day. His similarly shaved pubes were returning with a vengeance, growing in quicker and spreading further than they ever had before. Fat was clinging to his thin frame, he was filling out. 

As Jaden’s body hair started coming in, Glenn would spend more and more time rubbing his hands through it. It was an electric feeling for Jaden, he’d never known it could feel that being hairy. And he was slowly craving it more and more. Glenn continued putting testosterone patches on him as well as a number of other products he’d tried with other guys before. He wanted this cub to be perfect. Jaden’s vacation had long passed but he was oblivious, forgetting more and more each day about his previous life as he dedicated his new one to Glenn. Every day he rubbed against Glenn’s weathered, hairy body and desired it all for himself. He loved the attention, being spoiled and cared for. He didn’t even notice that every meal was huge to ensure he packed on the pounds quickly. 

Days turned to weeks, as Jadens body continued to mold to Glenn’s form. Glenn decided it was time for more progress, and introduced Jaden to his home gym. He slowly introduced a routine before pushing Jaden harder than he’d ever exercised in his life. Glenn took pride in having some strength under his gut, and he wanted his cub to have some solid muscle too. That’s when the testosterone patches turned to injections. Stronger and more effective, Glenn was pushing his cubs transformation into full gear. 

The thin wisps of hair that dotted his chest thickened and multiplied, with larger pecs pushing out as well. The chest hair spread out from his nipples and up towards his neck, and even out towards his shoulders, connecting with the pit hair that had really started to sprout. What had once been a smooth shaven pit was now erupting into a forest. The hairs darkened, grew coarse and wiry, and really began to hold his sweat in. Between that and the workouts Jaden was starting to produce his own sweaty musk at a rapid rate. His beard also grew denser and darker, peach fuzz flooded with testosterone until it became real fur, pushing out of his face. Every day the hairs grew longer, darker, and Glenn was there to feel it all, stroking his cub’s growing beard as it came in.

Each day for Jaden began to follow a pattern; he ate plenty, worked out for hours, and was intimate with Glenn for the rest of it. He would do daily testosterone injections and used Glenn’s hair growth wash. He had grown to love what was happening to him, with continuous positive reinforcement from Glenn, who would comment on his progress. He would point out during sex how much larger his cock and balls had gotten, immediately giving Jaden an erection. It was true though, what had once been a thin six inch cock was now pushing past eight and as thick as a beer can, with balls the size of lemons dangling below. 

His pubes had hit the same growth spurt. What had once been a small shaven patch had erupted into a verdant jungle of hair. Over the weeks they had pushed out slowly, growing darker and curlier, tangling together as more and more hairs pushed through the skin and sprouted out. The bush spread out from the base of his cock, coating his entire groin and reaching up to his stomach and out onto his thighs. His massive balls received their own dense fur coat; the wiry hairs so thick you could barely see through the forest. Hairs had even started climbing up his shaft, giving it an almost animalistic look. Glenn loved this, edging Jaden for hours every day playing with his thick pubes and enormous balls. The hairs blended seamlessly up to the rug on his chest, coating his continually growing belly in more and more hair. 

Jaden had put on so much size that his clothes no longer fit. Glenn of course supplied him with everything he could want, though he rarely wore more than just underwear. He loved the way a tank top looked while working out, his gut pressed tight against the fabric while still showing off his hairy chest and shoulders. His forearms grew thick with muscle as fur coated them as well. His thick thighs met the same fate, with hair sprouting all the way down to his feet. His beard thickened further and spread higher up his cheeks, leaving him with a dense covering that tangled with Glenn’s own when they kissed. His body had doubled in size, with those workouts giving him a solid muscular frame. Glenn made sure that was still softened by plenty of chub though, stuffing his cub at every meal. 

Fall changed to winter, and Jaden was nearing perfection as Glenn’s cub. They were inseparable, spending every day together as Glenn pushed the cub to be the best he could be, perfected for his own enjoyment. Jaden was enamored with his daddy bear, aware of the changes he’d undergone but not worried about his past self. As snow began to fall outside, his new mass and fur coat kept him warm even when outside, since he rarely cared to put on a coat. It was even better for snuggling by the fire with a full fledged bear, one who promised to only make Jaden more and more like himself. Jaden was now a true cub, in love with his daddy bear and looking forward to a life of growing. 

[stellewriites]

John Price x Reader

Summary: When John gets an unexpected invite to his ex-wife’s wedding, he scrambles to find a suitable date to take with him to ward off old ghosts from his past.

Notes: trans John, fat reader, subtle transphobia from minor characters

John sat alone on his couch, his mail left forgotten on the seat to his right, as he tipped his drink back and looked over the thick card stock in his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the names embossed across the top, his grimace pulling just tight enough to be mistaken for a snarl.

He placed the glass down on the coffee table in front of him and reached for the cigar burning away in the ashtray. He felt sick to his stomach as he took a deep pull; it was one of his habits that she had never liked, especially in the house. He’d promised time and time again that he’d quit for her, but he never had and now it was too late to matter.

She’d frowned and huffed and ignored him for a week when she’d first caught him smoking. Freshly seventeen, the pair of them, and she’d practically begged him to not copy the other boys they’d grown up with, to never do it again. But he hadn’t listened.

Childhood sweethearts, John had boasted when they’d been married. Their whole lives planned out together, just waiting for them to get going.

But after sixteen years together, twelve of those married, she’d finally had enough and asked John for a divorce.

It had broken his heart to sign the papers, to have her look him in the eyes and bravely tell him it wasn’t going to work anymore. She couldn’t keep going on like this, it wasn’t a life. Always relegated to second best, forever waiting for him to keep his promise that he’d finally prioritise her over his work.

She wasn’t selfish for wanting commitment, she’d insisted and John couldn’t have agreed more. But he’d been young and stupid, and assumed his wife would always be safely his until suddenly she wasn’t and he was left only with regret for not changing sooner.

He’d suggested couples therapy in a last desperate effort and she’d tearily shaken her head. She was adamant, settled firm, unmovable. Ironically one of John’s favourite things about her.

What made the cold, lonely nights after that worse for John was that they’d ended it on relatively good terms. There was no other man he could blame, and she hadn’t been able to cut ties completely either, keeping in touch and stringing him along through the odd habitual text after the initial separation. She didn’t seem to hold it against him that he was unable to switch off from work, able to swallow the bitter pill easier now that they were separated, and he was desperate enough for even a sliver of what they’d had that he ate up any interaction she gave him.

Even six years later, she still sent him a message on his birthday or at Christmas, wishing him well. And he knew his family still spoke to her; hard not to given they all lived in his home town. He’d moved away, left her the house; it wasn’t like he wanted it or the memories that came with it and it meant he could get somewhere a little more convenient for work.

His eyes flickered back down to the card without his permission. The invite. He felt his throat grow tight.

Charlotte Price & Tom Smith would like you to join them to celebrate on their wedding day...

He dropped the card onto the table next to his glass before he could keep reading and make the pit in his stomach any bigger; took another puff of his cigar and wished his drink would magically refill itself. He’d always taken it as a good sign the fact that she’d never bothered to change back to her maiden name. More fool him.

Pulling out his phone from his pocket he hesitated before ringing Kate.

“John,” she answered, surprise in her tone. “You’ve been home for less than... three hours by my estimate.”

“Need some time off, Kate,” he said without preamble.

“Finally taking that holiday I’ve been pushing for?”

He laughed humourlessly. “Not exactly.”

She hummed, but didn’t push. John could hear the clacking of her laptop keys when he told her the dates he was requesting.

“Charlotte’s getting remarried,” he said eventually. His voice unusually quiet. “Got the invite through in the mail.”

“Shit,” Kate swore. “You're going?”

“Never was able to say no to her,” he admitted with a chuckle, like it was a joke and not a sad fact.

“Do you need a date?” She offered.

He was already shaking his head before she finished the sentence. “I’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” Kate scoffed. “John, I’ve met your family and I remember Charlotte. Nothing about this will be fine, you’ll need a friend.”

John winced as he thought about the amount of voicemail messages he’d left unplayed from his mother since getting back that morning. Now that he could guess what they were about he was even less inclined to listen to them; he knew she’d be asking if he got his invite, what he was planning on wearing, how long he’d be staying, who he’d be bringing as his date.

Despite all of his quick climb of the ladder and many accolades within the military his mother had never acknowledged them, always focused on something else to worry over instead. And for the last six year it had been the idea of her eldest dying alone after he was divorced; she did so love Charlotte.

If he went alone, his mother would be on the cusp of insufferable the entire time he was there, but if he brought Kate, she’d be outright intolerable to the both of them.

“She’d be worse if I brought a mate instead,” he said, not needing to clarify who ‘she’ was. “If I go alone I can always lie about a new partner or someone I’m seein’; it’s not unbelievable that she’d be too busy with work to get the time off to come. The benefit of the doubt goes away if I bring you or, God forbid, bloody Simon.”

Kate snorted down the phone.

“They won’t believe you,” she said matter of fact. “One look at your face when you see her and they’ll know.”

John stayed quiet.

“Maybe.”

“Want my advice?”

“Not in this case, no.”

Kate ploughed on regardless.

“Don’t go, John. You’ll only hurt yourself and potentially ruin her day. It’s selfish,” she said plainly.

“Don’t pull your fucking punches, Kate.”

“It was selfish of her to invite you,” she clarified, hearing the hurt disguised in John’s voice. “But it’s selfish of you to go too. We both know how you want it to end and it’s not in her fiancé’s favour.”

“This might be the last time I ever see her,” John said softly. He didn’t visit home often, it had been years in fact and he doubted he’d want to stick around long enough in future visits to bump into Charlotte with a new man’s ring on her finger. “I have to go. I want to.”

Kate sighed. “You’ve got the time off, there’s nothing stopping you.”

In a bid to change the subject John looked at his watch and winced when he worked out what time it was for her. With a quick apology for calling her at such an awkward time he waited for her to say goodbye before hanging up.

He looked at the invite one last time before standing up to refill his drink.

---

John only had to deal with three weeks on leave before he was called back in and was once again able to throw himself into work as a distraction. He was able to forget about the wedding most days in the months leading up to the date, only reminded when he checked his civilian phone and saw the calls and messages he’d missed while away or sat in his office pouring over paperwork.

He kept his replies short, clipped and to the point; tired of having to repeat himself, but he tried not to be mean even when his mum sent an unintentionally hurtful, “Maybe you’d have had better luck finding a date if you hadn’t made the switch. You were always so pretty xxx”.

He turned his phone on silent and pushed his knuckles into his eyes, hunched over his desk as he felt anger and despair in equal measure bubble and boil behind his teeth.

By chance, he managed to catch his sister’s call.

“Bloody finally, John,” she sighed down the phone. “Mum’s going mad over here. She doesn’t know whether to make up the spare room for you or not.”

“Tell her not to bother,” he said. “Said already I’ll stay at a hotel nearby. Easier for all of us.”

“Don’t be an arsehole,” his sister chided.

John gritted his teeth. “She’s just been... A lot, over these last weeks.”

“Wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn’t have cocked it up with the one person on the planet willing to deal with all your bullshit,” Lizzy said unsympathetically.

“Cheers. I’d forgotten completely. Thanks, Liz.” John ran a hand over his tired eyes. “Is that all you rang for?”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Give Kate my regards, I’m sure I’ll get to catch up with her at the wedding.”

“Actually, I’m bringing a date, a woman I’m seeing,” John said without thinking.

His sister went quiet for a moment before clearing her throat. “Oh? You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Wasn’t sure if it was serious,” John lied, cursing himself for it. “But she’s got the time off, so hopefully she’ll be coming with me. Another reason we want the hotel room.”

“Of course,” Lizzy laughed. “Should’ve guessed. Mum will be pleased.”

“I’m sure.” He waited for a moment and she scoffed, annoyed at his none-answers.

“Well, are you going to tell me anything about her?”

“And have nothing to talk about when we get there? No chance,” John deflected. “I’ve got to go, got a meeting starting soon.”

“At this time?” She asked, surprised.

“New intel just came in. Can’t say much more.”

“Of course, of course. See you soon then, John.”

He massaged his temples when she hung up, his oncoming headache leaving his jaw tense and eyes squinting.

He looked at the clock above his office door and cringed when he saw the late time. He contemplated crashing in his room and potentially rolling around wide awake for another couple of hours or traipsing to the rec room in hopes of finding a bit of company to take his mind off of things for a while.

With a groan, he stood stiffly from his desk and headed towards the shared rec room.

He sighed in relief when he saw his team sat around the small table, cards in hand and a bottle of whiskey off to the side only half empty.

“Mind if I join next round?” He asked as he pulled out a chair.

“Only if you don’t mind Soap cheating,” Gaz said, sending his fellow sergeant a mucky look.

“Jus’ admit yer shite at cards, Garrick,” Johnny laughed, unperturbed by the accusation.

John smiled as he watched the three of them finish the hand before he was dealt in. His phone rang, but he left it to go to voicemail as he studied his cards and considered his options, thanking Simon when he poured him a drink. It rang a second time when Soap won, then a third immediately after. John clenched his jaw and checked the ID, putting it back down when he saw mum flashing across the top of the screen.

Lizzy hadn’t waited to spread the news then. Fuck.

He noticed the three men eyeing up his phone and tense shoulders, but he didn’t acknowledge it. It wasn’t until the fourth call that Soap spoke up.

“Yer certainly popular tonight, sir.”

“A mission we don’t know about?” Kyle asked, eyebrows furrowed.

John shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just been invited to a wedding, is all.”

The three of them focused on him at that, eyes peeled away from their cards at the reminder that their Captain had a personal life outside of these walls.

Before any of them had chance to ask, John sighed. “Family’s been nonstop calling me the last month or so, putting pressure on me to bring someone along,” he admitted.

“If you wanted a date so badly,” Johny started, puffing up his chest only to fold over wheezing when Simon elbowed him, hard.

“Told them I’m bringing a woman, Soap. But thanks for the offer, think I’d have asked Gaz first though,” John joked.

“Your loss,” Simon said gruffly. “I’ve been told I’m very charming.”

“They have a gun to their head at the time?” Johnny said under his breath.

“My sister might be available to go with ya,” Gaz offered. “And unlike our ‘charming’ Lt here, she can actually talk a stranger’s ear off.”

“I couldn’t ask her to do that, Gaz. Could make things awkward for you,” Price hedged, hesitant to agree.

“She loves weddings, sir, any excuse to get dressed up and have a few free drinks,” Kyle said with an easy shrug. He grinned and continued, “And not like it’s a real date, wouldn’t have to pull you aside for the shovel talk. She’d just be doing you a favour. Could pay it back by having Ghost go easy on us in training after the break at Christmas this year.”

John huffed a laugh as Simon grumbled, but it felt a little forced as he thought about the offer. With a sigh he took a drink of the cheap beer Soap had nabbed them all from the communal fridge once the whiskey started getting low.

“No ‘arm in it,” Simon added, watching their captain closely.

John nodded shortly at Kyle and watched with growing anxiety and embarrassment as the young sergeant tapped away on his phone. Johnny shuffled and distributed the cards for a new game, giving John a moment of reprieve to look away, but when he turned back and caught Gaz’s frown his stomach sank.

“What?” He asked a little too sharply. It would be one thing to be rejected by a woman he’s never met, but another entirely for it to happen in front of his men when he was already feeling unsteady from the oncoming wedding.

“She’s busy that weekend, some festival’s on that she’s got tickets for,” Kyle winced. He sent John an apologetic look before his phone buzzed again. “Wait, she said her mate might be up for it.”

Johnny leant heavily against Kyle’s side, arm thrown over the back of his chair, and read the message over his shoulder.

“Though apparently the friend said you hafta pay her £100 f’r it, pick her up and drop her home,” Johnny huffed through a disbelieving laugh. “Cheeky, that. Don’ even know what she looks like and she’s chargin’ ye.”

“Could ask for a photo,” Gaz offered again, but John waved him off.

He was still unconvinced, the acidic bubble of embarrassment at the back of his throat caused by having to buy his fucking date to his ex’s wedding left him cautious. He was handsome, he knew, but he just didn’t have the time or the desire to go out looking for someone that wasn’t Charlotte.

His phone lit up with a notification for a new voice mail and he thought about the streams of calls and unanswered texts from his family and his ex-wife, all asking about his plus one in some capacity and ranging subtlety.

“Send me her number.”

---

The pair of you decided to meet up a month before the wedding, not long after you’d first started texting and covered the basic introductions, figuring it would be easier to fake a relationship if the wedding wasn’t the first time you’d both met.

And before committing to the role you wanted a better idea of what kind of man John was.

Safety first and all that, it didn’t matter that your friend kind of knew him through her younger brother, you wanted to know who you could potentially be spending a full weekend away with.

He’d agreed without fuss and let you pick the spot, in public and during the day obviously. This wasn’t your first blind date, though the circumstances were a lot different and it had you feeling nervous even though you didn’t really have anything to lose.

John had arrived at the café early, not wanting to make a bad impression. However the extra time meant that he had longer to stew over the events that had led him to meeting a stranger to negotiate whether she’d be willing to lie to his family for him or if he wasn’t worth the time.

He’d sat at the back where it was quieter, needing the privacy as he ruminated over his lack of options, though he stared across the room out of the large front windows onto the street.

John’s eyes caught onto a plump young thing jogging across the road, and he let them wander across her frame languidly. He mourned his ex-wife’s touch as he watched the woman enter the café with sweat just beginning to bead at her brow, her eyes flickering around the room nervously. He couldn’t help but notice how she was exactly his usual type, similar in some respects to how Charlotte had looked early on in their marriage even, with a round face, thick thighs and soft tits hidden beneath her cosy jumper.

John froze when the woman met his gaze and smiled, lifting a hand in a small, hesitant wave.

“John?” She mouthed, and he found himself nodding automatically. She looked pleased before heading to the register to make her order.

John straightened up in his seat and frowned down into his tea. He wasn’t interested, hadn’t been interested in anyone but his ex in all the years since she’d left, but he was tempted all the same to tell Gaz to thank his sister for introducing what was likely her most beautiful friend.

He had to stop himself from glaring daggers into his tea, frustrated with himself and his thoughts, as you came over from the counter with your drink in hand and an apprehensive smile on your face as you took your seat opposite him.

“Sorry if I’m a little late, I thought we’d said half past,” you apologised, looking to his mostly empty cup.

“I was early.” John cleared his throat. “Sorry, I haven’t done this in a long time. ‘M a little rusty.”

You let out a soft laugh and shrug. “Don’t worry about it, there’s no pressure. It’s not a real date, right? And there’s worse things you could be than early; I mean I wanted to meet mainly just to make sure you weren’t a raging arsehole or planning on murdering me on our way down South.”

“Can tell all that meeting someone over coffee? Might have to employ you to help with our interrogations.”

“Not sure I’m cut out for the military life. I’m no good with blood, I get faint at a paper cut,” you joked.

John huffed, not enough to be considered a laugh but you knew he was amused.

You watched as he took in a deep breath, his shoulders stretching as he leant into the back of his chair, steeling himself for the next part of the conversation.

“Thank you… for considering doing this. I know it’s not exactly conventional and we don’t know each other all that well,” he started, jaw tense even as he spoke.

“I think it might be fun,” you said with a hopeful smile. “The only weddings I’ve been to were when I was a kid, so I’m kind of looking forward to it in a weird way.”

John stared at you for a moment and you worried you’d put your foot in it. He was obviously hesitant about the whole deal and there you were talking about how you were excited to go on your little day trip like it wasn’t John’s family you’d be intruding on.

“You’re always smiling,” he muttered finally, breaking your building tension.

“What?”

“Mm.” He blinked and focused once more. “Sorry. Yes, it should be nice. The wedding. Charlotte always had good taste.”

“Charlotte, is that the bride?”

“And my ex-wife.”

“Oh fuck, ok,” you said with raised eyebrows. Your friend had mentioned John having some old connection to the bride to be, but you hadn’t been expecting that. John had told you about himself a little in his messages, but he’d not mentioned much about the wedding past the date.

“My family will be there, they’ve all stayed close after the divorce. Think they prefer her over me and I can’t blame ‘em,” he explained. Your frowned and although he was taken back by the sudden switch in your mood he didn’t touch on it. “It’ll be easier with a date to keep my family off my back for a few hours while we’re there.”

“Are they a little more, uhm, traditional?” You asked, then tried to lighten up the potentially heavy question. “Not keen on divorces or bachelors?”

“You could say that,” he agreed nonspecifically. “They’re not Catholic, if that’s what you’re thinking; it’s just a small town, everyone knows everyone’s business.”

“Small town like Gilmore Girls or small town like Twin Peaks? Wondering if I need to be cautious of the locals.”

John smiled; your attempts at trying to get him to open up and laugh with you fell flat. “I can pick you up in the morning, drive down in time for the ceremony. We’ll have to stay the night for the celebration the next day as well but after that we can head back. I’ll get you home by the evening.”

You nodded along, fidgeting with your cup. “Great, uhm and about the money, I’m sorry to ask but I’ll be missing work for this and I don’t get paid leave. Plus I’ll need a dress—”

“It’s not an issue,” he said firmly, waving off your worries.

Your shoulders dropped in relief and you nodded again.

“Never requested a down payment on a date before,” you said with a laugh.

“I’m happy to pay it.” He tapped his thumb on the edge of his empty cup. “Does that mean you’ll go?”

“Yeah. Yeah, unless you say something truly awful over the next few weeks, I’d be happy to go.”

Price felt his headache ease at that. One less thing to worry about.

The stilted conversation continued as you discussed the details of the wedding, the dress code, and his family. John had stood mid way through as you tried to remember the names he’d mentioned and bought you both a second drink each.

“So there’s your mum, Shirl, Lizzy’s your younger sister, and your dad is called Richard,” you repeated back to him, taking notes on your phone. “Anyone else of note?”

“Not family, but there might be a few names of people I’d have probably mentioned to you; neighbours, teachers and the like.”

“Ok, cool. You can text me them if you’d prefer.” You finished tapping away before taking a swig of your drink. “So what’s our backstory?”

At John’s befuddled silence you sat back in shock.

“Have you never seen any romcom ever?” You asked in mock outrage. “We need to figure out how we met, how long we’ve been dating, etcetera etcetera, otherwise your family is gonna sniff out this lie like pigs hunting for truffles.”

“Right, makes sense,” he hummed. “We’ve been dating for almost six months and met through Gaz and your friend. Keep it close enough to the truth so we don’t get confused.”

“Good idea. Uhm, you asked me out to coffee and we hit it off because you like how endearing and witty I am,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Always did think modesty was overrated,” he played along. “I’m busy a lot with work, so we don’t see each other much but we’ve made it work for us.”

“Do I get to know much about your work other than your title and apparently that you do interrogations?”

“You know I’m a captain of an SAS task force and I’ve been in the service for almost twenty years. Kyle said he texted his sister about me.”

“Yeah, yeah he did. She told me what he said, I just wasn’t sure if I’d know more as your girlfriend. We can keep it vague though if you’d prefer.” You tried to move on. “What about your friends?”

“Kate, Simon, Kyle and Johnny. Teammates. They’ll recognise the names if you mention them,” John said. “They’ll probably be more convinced if you mention Farrah, too.”

“Will I have met them yet?”

John hummed as he thought about it. “Kate and Farrah are busy like myself. But you’ve met Simon and Kyle; I’m keeping Johnny off your tail for now, dog of a bloke,” John decided.

You snorted at his description and nodded, continuing to add to your notes.

After a minute of silence and no further questions coming from you, John leant forward onto his forearms.

“Have you not got a boyfriend at home that’ll be jealous you’re doing this?” He asked.

You let out a loud, bitter laugh. “No, I’m single. I was put off dating pretty recently, actually, after trying my hand at a couple of apps. The whole online schtick really isn’t for me turns out, was just a long stint of dead end dates.”

“I’m sure there’d be someone on there that’d be worth your time,” John tried to reassure you awkwardly.

“Oh there’s plenty of fish in the sea, but I’m retiring my fishing pole for the time being. I’m happy enough being single; and hey, it beats having to sit through a two hour dinner with a guy that won’t stop talking about the rash on his dick.”

John slumped back in his seat in shock with raised eyebrows. He quickly lifted a hand to clamp over his mouth to hide his burgeoning laugh, but his shaking shoulders gave him away.

“Please, feel free to laugh at the state of my dating life,” you encouraged, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s like a raging dumpster fire.”

“At least you’re not hiring someone to go to your ex-wife’s wedding,” he said, biting his cheek afterwards. He felt the uncomfortable pit in his stomach shift and stretch with guilt at his sudden ability and ease to joke about it. Christ, what was wrong with him?

You noticed his face shutter back to being blank as he looked out across the café and decided not to push. It was all obviously still a sore spot for him.

“What were you thinking touch-wise?” You asked instead, willing your voice to stay even. God help if got flustered over the idea of kissing a man still in love with his ex. You’re an adult, you can hold hands and pretend to be in love without being childish and getting giggly over it. John was stern enough you couldn’t doubt his lack of interest, and you weren’t about to get yourself tangled up in an unavailable man, even if he was handsome.

John cleared his throat.

“I’ve always been pretty big on PDA,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “And I mentioned it’s a small town; it’s likely they’ve all seen me fawning over a woman before. It would be… suspicious if we didn’t kiss, I think. But I was a teenager back then, so I think a more reserved approach wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

“Ok, cool. So like, the usual coupley stuff, honeymoon phase kind of staying close by and kisses on the cheek kind of thing too.” You took another drink and tried not to think too much about the weight of John’s gaze on your face. “Just if you could try not to sneak up on me and do it? I tend to lean into fight more than flight, especially when it comes to strangers’ hands on me.”

“I don’t have to touch you if it’ll make you uncomfortable,” John offered immediately.

“No, no! I’ll be ok, I’m just out of practice I guess, not used to it at the moment. I don’t want to slap your hands away without thinking and ruin the charade. Or worse, I watched too much Muppets growing up and likened myself to Miss Piggy’s attitude, wouldn’t want to put your training to the test,” you said, making a small karate chop in between the two of you. John hid his smile behind his tea. You shrugged a little self-consciously afterwards and started speaking again. “I’m fine with kissing, and having your hands anywhere on me.”

John coughed as he choked back his drink, fervently shaking his head. “Oh, uhm. No, that won’t—”

“Like over my clothes, I just meant like my waist, or my arse at most. I didn’t mean— Keeping it PG13.”

John chuckled nervously and rubbed a hand down over the scruff of his thick mutton chops. “Right, right. Sorry, I jumped to conclusions there.”

“No, I think that was on me,” you huffed, embarrassed. You grabbed your bag and stood. “I think I’ve got enough to work with here, I’ll message you if I think of anything else I might need to know. But… It’ll be ok, John, or at least not as shitty as it could’ve been having to go alone.”

John scoffed. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” You ask, tilting your head like an inquisitive puppy.

“Always got that sunny grin on, haven’t ya?”

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes again, biting back the very same grin he spoke of. “Practice the story, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

“Oh! We should probably take a photo together, right? For our lock screens, real couples have each other on their phones.”

John’s smile turned brittle. “Right.”

You moved to sit in the seat next to John instead of opposite and clicked on your camera, aiming it at the pair of you, you grinned wide and nudged John when he kept frowning.

“Try and make it convincing, c’mon,” you encouraged lightly. He smiled thinly and you took a few quick snaps. “I’ll send them to you later. Thanks for the coffee, John.”

“See you later,” he said and watched you walk out of the café and down the street.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished he felt better about the wedding than he did. Although it was a relief to not be going alone anymore, it felt worse somehow now that he’d met you and hadn’t immediately disliked you.

series masterlist

[therealslimshakespeare]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

[wholoveseggs]

Hi babygirl!! I’m back yet again 🤭 I’ve got a spicier one for you this time.

Okay so y/n (aka me bc why not) and Rebekah are bffs, talking like usual in her room when y/n one day asks her if she had always been with men only, maybe if she dated women she’d had found love or whatever. Bex says she’s not into women but she has experimented with them before. Elijah and Klaus are in the family room, minding their business when they hear noises. Both brothers have always have a huge ass crush on y/n, Bex knew about it, but they never told her because they didn’t know how to. Rebekah decides to take full advantage of this and fucks y/n, knowing damn well her brothers can hear how loud they are. So from the family room, they follow the noise to Bex’s room & find the two girls scissoring. They watch quietly and jack off but when Klaus moans, both girls hear and quickly turn to the door, catching both brothers redhanded. This obviously leads to a 4some. {kinks: double penetration, voyeurism, breeding, boob play (lots btwn the girls), praise, degradation, choking, and ofc scissoring for the girls}

Ménage à Quatre

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Just a quick little ménage à quatre with Rebekah & the boys...

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet Aurora! This was so much fun to write & also a bit of a challenge (lots of moving parts haha) ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: pure smut, foursome, NO INCEST, girl on girl, fingering, handjobs, oral sex, scissoring, double penetration, voyeurism, choking, lots of praise and a sprinkling of degradation, my Elijah favoritism shining through, Klaus and Elijah being a little rough, Rebekah likes to watch...

PS: This is unofficially extra-extra-extra-extraordinary ~lol

Rebekah's room was always your favorite place in the Mikaelson compound. It was feminine and elegant, and had beautiful pieces of furniture. Whenever you would go to your best friend's bedroom, you couldn't help but admire the view; and the woman.

She was beautiful with her long blonde hair and stunning features, not to mention that gorgeous accent of hers. You had always harbored a bit of a crush, but kept it to yourself, afraid to ruin the friendship.

As always, you were both sitting on her bed, legs crossed and telling each other the latest gossip. And today, you found yourself telling Rebekah about a recent fling and hook-up.

Rebekah was listening intently as she rummaged through her closet, tossing you some clothes she wanted you to try. You always felt a little shy getting undressed in front of her but you got more comfortable over time.

You pulled on a vintage pleated mini skirt from the early 2000s, it didn't even cover your buttcheeks. 

You gave Rebekah a spin while giggling, "How do I look?"

She laughs, her eyes gazing over your body appreciatively. "Sexy, as always."

You blush under her gaze and pull off your top, rummaging through the pile of clothes to find a new shirt.

"Try this on," Rebekah suggests, holding up a lacy red push up bra.

"Sure," you reply with a shrug, taking off your own plain white one and throwing it across the room.

As you put on the new bra, Rebekah took the opportunity to admire your half naked figure. You bite your lip, feeling the tension building in the room.

You sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, her eyes followed you closely. Your skin felt hot under her gaze and your heart beat faster in your chest.

"I have a question for you, love," she says softly, looking down at her fingernails casually, acting as if nothing happened.

"What is it?"

"Elijah and Klaus are both quite taken with you. I've heard them talk about you before," Rebekah replies. Her voice is low and her eyes dark, she looks up at you from beneath her eyelashes. "Did you know that?"

"Really? I don't know…" You can't stop your eyes from widening in surprise. "But they've never said anything to me…”

"Is it so hard to believe they are attracted to you? You're beautiful. Sexy. Any man would be lucky to have you."

Your entire body feels hot under her gaze and you're unable to form a sentence. But to your luck, you don't have to answer her as she speaks again.

"Or maybe," she drawls, slowly starting to crawl towards you on the bed. "You're into women."

You gulp, paralyzed by her hypnotizing gaze. Before you can think of anything witty to say, you're pinned against her pillows, soft fabric squished under your back.

She pushes her knee between your legs, straddling you in the process. You gasp at her boldness, lust taking over your mind. She leans closer, so close that her lips are almost brushing against yours.

"So which one would you choose?" she asks softly, her breath ghosting over your face.

"Choose?" You repeat breathily.

"My brothers. Which one?" she clarifies, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I-I" You stop to clear your throat, trying to swallow down the sudden nerves. "Probably Elijah, he seems more gentle than Klaus," you mumble.

Rebekah chuckles, enjoying the effect she is having on you. "He would be thrilled to hear you say that. But," she stops, bringing her lips next to your ear. "I was hoping you'd choose me," she whispers.

It takes everything in your body not to moan when her soft lips move over the sensitive skin on your neck.

Her hands slide up your body before cupping your breasts through the lacy bra. She kneads your flesh firmly before pulling the cups down. Your breasts spill out, nipples pebbling under her ravenous stare.

"I didn't realize it was an option," you breathe.

Rebekah grins at you, eyes flashing dangerously before dipping her head.

"It's always been an option," she husks.

Her attention shifts to your exposed tits, nipples pink and puffy from her touch. She gives them a little smack, knocking the breath out of you.

Her actions instantly cause a throbbing between your thighs as you subconsciously try to close them.

Without warning, she leans down and swipes her tongue along one nipple. Her saliva leaves a cool coating over your skin as she works her way across your chest to give the same treatment to your other tit.

She hums softly against your skin before she bites down lightly, causing your body to arch up towards her, a breathy sigh leaving your lips.

You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch. You want to touch her too, feel her soft skin beneath your fingertips, hear her delicate moans in your ear.

Your hands slowly slide up her thighs, teasing the exposed skin. She doesn't stop you as your hands travel higher and higher, crawling up the slope of her stomach.

She takes your wrists and guides your arms over your head, pinning them against the headboard with one hand, biting her lip in concentration. Her stare is intense, dark and arousing, lust and hunger burning brightly in her eyes.

"Not so fast," she murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth, then quickly withdrawing. "This is all about you,”

Her free hand dips underneath your skirt, reaching the damp fabric of your panties, and pushes it aside. She grins as her finger runs up and down your slit, teasing and prodding your entrance, you let out a soft moan, arching into her touch.

Her lips attach to the skin on your neck, suckling at the tender flesh. She grazes her teeth across the fluttering pulse point, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body.

You tried to stifle your moans, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings. There was a possibility others in the house could also hear you. Klaus and Elijah were only just downstairs, and with their vampire hearing they could definitely pick up on your moans, even through the closed door. And that thought, of them listening in on you and Rebekah having sex, turned you on even more.

Rebekah grinned, as if she was reading your mind. She removed her hand from between your legs and moved back a little on the bed, grabbing your skirt and pulling it off before pulling off her down clothes. You feel the cold air hit your now bare pussy as she tosses her garments onto the floor.

"Come here," she said softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you under her.

She pressed her chest to yours, the soft skin of her breasts brushing against your own. Your nipples brushed against hers and you both moaned softly. The two of you gazed into each other's eyes for a moment before capturing her lips.

Her tongue pushed in roughly, exploring every inch of your mouth. You reciprocated eagerly, humming against her lips and gripping her waist to pull her closer.

Rebekah slides her hand down your body and between your legs, and begins to slowly stroke your clit. You arch your back, moaning loudly. She chuckles and slowly pushes a finger inside of you, then another.

She thrusts her fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, curling them in just the right way to make you squirm.

"You're so wet, darling," she coos, licking her lips. "Tell me what you want."

"More…"

Elijah was sitting in the courtyard, book in his lap, enjoying one of the rare moments he had to himself. Klaus was sketching something, and the silence was comfortable.

But their moment of peace was interrupted by the sounds of giggling coming from upstairs.

"Sounds like someone is having a good time," the hybrid muttered.

"Yes, I suppose so," Elijah agreed, trying not to listen to the noises.

They are both a little jealous of Rebekah's bond with you, she seemed to have a connection with you that they couldn't achieve. And while they were both aware that the two of you were just friends, sometimes it was hard not to feel left out.

"Maybe we should go see what's going on," Klaus suggested, glancing at his brother.

"No, leave them be, they are probably just trying on clothes again," Elijah replied, trying to focus on his book. He wasn't actually sure what the girls were up to, but he didn't want to disturb them.

Suddenly there's a loud moan, followed by a giggle, and the brothers are unable to ignore it anymore.

They both looked at eachother then got up, heading for the stairs. They could hear the girls whispering and laughing, the sounds getting louder as they reached the door.

Klaus stopped Elijah before he walked in, pressing his index finger to his lips and listening.

You were flushed and trembling, Rebekah between your legs, teasing your pussy with her tongue.

"Fuck," you gasp, grabbing her hair and pulling her closer.

Rebekah loved this, having you at her mercy. You were so hot and responsive, and she couldn't get enough. She could hear her brothers downstairs, questioning what the two of you were doing and she decided to put on a show. 

Torture them a little.

Your breathing grew faster as you bucked your hips, riding her face as she kept sucking your clit, your pleasure climbing higher and higher, the tension building in your core.

"Bekah, I'm gonna-"

She pulled back and looked up at you, her smirk the most mischievous you've ever seen.

"Don't come yet, beautiful," she coaxed you, grinning wickedly. "I have one more thing to show you,"

She grins and leans forward, her breasts pressed against yours, she gently positions one of your legs over hers, pulling your bodies flush against each other. She kisses you softly, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling a little before breaking the kiss.

She takes her hands and intertwines them with yours as she starts moving her hips slowly, gently sliding her wet pussy against yours. You gasp at the feeling and move your hips, trying to match her rhythm.

Your eyes close and your head falls back. Rebekah looks down at you, smiling proudly at the effect she has on you.

"Just like that," she whispers. "Feel me move against you..."

You looked down at the sight of your pussies grinding together, and groaned, biting your lip. It was so erotic, and you can't get enough. The way her clit brushes against yours, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

The bed creaked beneath you as you moved faster, trying to chase the high that's just out of reach. It was too much, the pleasure building deep within your belly, your muscles clenching tight. Just when you are about to reach your peak you hear a noise coming from the hallway and you freeze.

Both of you look towards the door, waiting for it to open, and sure enough, the knob turns, revealing the intruders. Klaus and Elijah, of course.

"Looks like we have company, love," Rebekah teased, continuing to grind on you.

They both looked a little caught, as if they didn't expect the door to be unlocked. They stepped in sheepishly, the both of them looking over the two of you, their eyes darkening.

"Hello brothers, it seems we have a new toy to play with," Rebekah stated, eyeing them intensely, her smile full of mischief. "Would you like that darling? To be shared between the three of us?"

You let out a soft moan as Rebekah moves her body in a particular way that has your eyes rolling back into your head. When you speak, you almost sound like you are begging, desperate for their touch.

"Yes," you breathe.

You watched Elijah and Klaus eagerly undress, their eyes still lingering on the two of you, hunger evident in their gaze.

"Look at how you're blushing," Klaus teases, chuckling and moving closer to the bed.

"Such a pretty little thing," Elijah agreed, his lips turning up in a knowing smile.

Rebekah continued to move her hips against yours. "I know," she moaned, running a hand through your hair. "You really are beautiful."

You moan louder as Klaus begins running his hands over your exposed body. Elijah soon joins him, moving to your other side, fingers tracing the outline of your lips. He pushes the tips of his fingers into your mouth and you immediately suck them, eyes fluttering shut. You moan around his fingers, pulling them deeper inside.

Rebekah groans, watching you swirl your tongue around his skin, the wetness gathering between your thighs growing, and you whine, rutting against her to create some friction.

"How desperate," Rebekah smirked, slowing down her movements so that the friction isn't enough to satisfy you.

Elijah removes his fingers and moves to kiss you, his tongue exploring your mouth, hungrily tasting you. Klaus touches your breasts, squeezing and playing with your sensitive nipples. You moan into the kiss, arching your back to rub your skin against his calloused fingers.

You are trapped between the three of them, completely at the mercy of their hands and mouths and you’d never been more turned on.

"I want to see her cum," Klaus murmurs, nipping your earlobe, making you shudder.

Rebekah increases the pace, grinding her clit into yours over and over. You mewl in pleasure, bucking your hips, begging for more. You look up and notice that Elijah has already started stroking his cock, his eyes fixed on you.

"I bet her pussy feels incredible, don't you think?" Klaus asks Elijah huskily, pinching your nipple between two fingers and pulling on it.

You yelp from the overload of sensations, your whole body convulsing. You can't hear what Elijah says because Rebekah reaches between your legs and circles her index finger around your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge.

Your pussy contracts, clamping down around nothing, convulsing against Rebekah's thumb. She sucks in a ragged breath, her hips spasming and rocking back and forth, your hips moving together. Your clit brushes against hers and you let out an embarrassing noise of surprise, coming at the same time as her.

Rebekah collapsed, sweaty and shaking. She buried her face in your neck, mumbling your name over and over, her body still pulsating with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

She pulls back, her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. She smiles down at you and leans in for another kiss, this time it's slow and gentle, filled with affection.

"You look so beautiful when you come," she whispers against your lips, pressing another soft peck on the side of your mouth. "I think I'll let my brothers have a turn with you now," she gently nips at your skin, tickling you, making you giggle.

Then she moves from the bed and sits on the armchair across the room, watching with dark eyes. Her legs spread as she watches the show, hand finding her clit and rubbing it slowly.

Elijah guides you to lay on your side facing him, while Klaus presses himself to your back, their strong hands gliding along your curves. Elijah wastes no time and leans down to kiss you, pulling your tongue between his lips and sucking it.

Klaus bites down on the skin of your neck, leaving hickeys along the area from your collarbone to the junction of your neck.

Their hands wander over your curves. Elijah's hand cups your breasts, toying with the hard peaks. "Such a pretty little slut." His voice is low, and he smirks at the way your body reacts to his words.

You can feel Klaus' hard member pressing against your back, along with Elijah's length pressed against your front.

You palm Elijah's cock through his boxers, stroking him in slow strokes, loving the way he feels and smells. His dark eyes watch you with adoration as he gives a gentle thrust into your hand.

"Do you like that?" You ask, your voice soft as you continue to pump him, occasionally bringing your hand higher up his shaft and teasing his sensitive head.

He nods eagerly, his fingers tangling into your hair, pressing his hips into you with more urgency. You can feel the veins on his cock pulsate under your touch as his breathing becomes erratic and shallow.

Klaus turns you so you are lying on your back between them, your free hand reaching for his cock, mimicking what you are doing to Elijah.

The feeling of having their cocks in your hands at the same time drives you crazy, you love being surrounded by them. They start kissing your neck and shoulder blades, leaving little marks of their own. You feel them getting harder and harder as they rut into your hands.

The heat between the three of you begins to rise, moans, gasps and whispered praises filling the air. They tease your breasts, letting their fingers and lips roam your body, softly caressing your nipples.

Rebekah groans at the sight and starts rubbing her clit faster, her breath catching as she watches you from across the room. You turn your head slightly, your eyes meeting hers, and you bite your lip, your hand speeding up, stroking them faster.

Elijah's hand wanders lower, touching your inner thigh and his mouth is pressing lightly on your neck and jaw.

"Fuck, just like that darling," he breathes, slowly circling your clit with the pad of his finger, pulling a small gasp from your lips, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

"You like that?" Klaus whispers into your ear, biting on your lobe as he does.

You look towards him and lean over, capturing his lips and teasing him with your tongue, keeping up the movements of your hands on their cocks. He takes control easily, taking charge and deepening the kiss.

"Why don't you come sit on my lap," Klaus murmurs against your lips, brushing back the strands of hair away from your face, smiling down at you with affection.

You let go of them and let yourself be maneuvered so that you were straddling him, the tip of his thick shaft pressing against your entrance, teasing your soaked pussy.

Before you can slide onto his cock, his thumb brushes against your slit and gently taps your swollen clit, causing bolts of pleasure to pass through you, you suck in a gasp and start riding his finger, feeling tiny pleasure sparks shooting through your body.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he grabs your hips roughly pushing you down onto his cock, causing you to moan as the pleasure of being filled so deep hits you. You lift your hips and his cock slides out a little bit, before you push yourself back down on him. You move slowly, adjusting to his large size. The way your muscles tighten around him makes him groan in pleasure.

Klaus smiled wickedly, his hand coming down to smack your ass, making you yelp and fall forward, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Rebekah rubbed her clit as she watched you bounce on Klaus' cock, her chest heaving and a desperate expression on her beautiful features.

"Ride him properly now, he's not a particularly patient man," she teased.

Klaus chuckled and smacked you again, harder this time, his other hand wrapping around your throat. You positioned your legs on either side of his and started really moving. Rolling your hips, clenching, using his thighs to your advantage. Each time you pushed yourself down you clenched hard, dragging a long low groan from his parted lips.

"Such a perfect little whore," Klaus grunted as you picked up your pace. His grip tightened around your neck and his other hand squeezed your breasts, twisting your nipples roughly. Your rhythm grew messy, your hips moving in earnest, searching for friction.

Rebekah couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene, watching you fall apart in Klaus' lap had her chasing her high too.

Elijah gazed fondly at the two of you, moving behind you and licking along your back, grabbing your cheeks in his large hands and massaging them before smacking them harshly. You whined loudly, gripping Klaus' forearms tightly, both men chuckled at your responses.

Klaus slowed your movements as Elijah pressed his chest against your back, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his muscular arms wrapping around you. He wrapped one hand around your body and traced small circles across your clit. You gasped and ground against him, desperate for more friction, he ignored your frantic pleading, holding your trembling thighs steady, growling commands in your ear telling you to settle down.

Elijah's hands moved over your hips then between your ass cheeks and slowly circled the edges of your tight hole.

"Have you ever had two men take you at once?" he purred, your blush deepened, and you shook your head.

"Well then we have so much to teach you," Rebekah cheered, spreading her legs further apart.

Elijah leaned back and spread your cheeks further, teasing the hole and coaxing a litany of pleads from your pretty mouth. Your hole was tight and sensitive, only the tip of Elijah's middle finger slowly inserted inside, pushing against your walls to the first knuckle. Klaus's hand tightened around your throat, his eyes glued to your face. Elijah applied more pressure, before he began to move his finger slowly in and out of your ass.

"Shit, Elijah," you groaned, the sensation making you squeeze around Klaus' cock.

With Klaus's grip on you, there was very little range of movement and Elijah smirked at your efforts, removing his finger altogether for a moment.

You weren't sure if you were relieved or frustrated by this.

You let out a shaky gasp as his fingers circled the tense ring of muscle once again, your nails digging into Klaus's shoulders harder when you felt a second finger at your entrance, the slight burn adding to the never-ending list of sensations flooding your mind.

"Relax, sweetheart, take a deep breath." Elijah said softly, kissing the side of your neck and letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin.

You couldn't stop yourself from trembling as Klaus and Elijah shared a chuckle at your eagerness.

"Do you like the thought of having two cocks inside you?" Klaus said, letting go of your throat and twining his fingers into your hair instead. "Of being stuffed full, stretched to your limit, our little whore?”

You could practically feel Rebekah rolling her eyes and grinning.

"Aren't you glad you indulged Rebekah now." Klaus pressed his mouth to your cheekbone, nuzzling the skin until your eyelashes fluttered. "Can't get enough, can you love? So greedy."

"Y-yes," you stutter, feeling Elijah's cock brush against your hole.

Rebekah made a pleased noise at your shaky answer, but didn't make any indication to interrupt, instead just slowly circling her clit, watching with rapt attention.

"Tell them what you want, darling," Rebekah asked quietly.

You turned and stared into her blue eyes and Rebekah breathed out heavily at your desperate gaze. "I want you to put both your cocks in me, I...want to be stuffed full, please," you rambled breathily, shutting your eyes and gasping out when your reward for those begging words was Elijah slowly easing his cock into your ass.

Your back arched slightly and you let out a loud moan, Elijah wrapped an arm around you, the other on your hip, gently urging you to move.

"Good girl, I'll go slow." Elijah's voice sent a shiver of want through you as he continued pressing in more of his thick length with an agonizing pace that left you begging and gasping.

"If only Elijah could see your pretty little face." Klaus chuckled, slowly thrusting up as his brother eventually bottomed out with a low groan, slowly shifting inside you so as not to hurt you.

After a moment, Elijah guided you with small rocks of his hips, kissing your neck and running his hand through your hair and cupping your chin. You sigh into a kiss, and with a few slow experimental pumps of his hips, the painful stretching turned into waves of pleasure.

"Oh, she likes it," Klaus laughed deeply, using his hands to roll your hips into Elijah's, guiding your hips with the upthrusts of his own.

You were completely overwhelmed as you let Klaus guide your hips. You moaned softly with each movement from either side. You had never been filled so deep. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching and all at once you wanted nothing more than both their cum buried deep inside of you.

The two of them used their combined strengths to pound you at a faster, harsher pace.

"S - shit. Fuck." Your hands started roaming your own body; touching every part of you they couldn't while on the search for release, you pinched your nipples and Klaus dipped his fingers to your clit, furiously strumming the bud in rough circles.

All three of them watched you squirming in pure ecstasy and grunting as their pleasure crashed. The heat was growing intense, leaving you weak and desperate. They didn't stop as your walls began to tighten, continuing at their hurried pace until you finally fell over the edge, taking them with you.

For a moment, everything went hazy as they filled you with their cum, their moans echoed in the room and they caught your shaking body, murmuring praise and reassurances until you regained your ability to think.

Elijah pulled out of you and Klaus caressed your thighs with his hands, his thumb rubbing circles across your skin. He kisses you gently on your forehead and moves you off his lap, laying you down on the bed.

Rebekah laid down beside you, kissing your cheeks and making you giggle. She looked gorgeous, gently biting at her lip as she admired your blissed out expression. You wanted to make her feel good, since she'd been so left out in this adventure.

You pushed her gently on to her back, kissing her neck and lips. You move down her body, licking and biting and tugging. She threads her fingers into your hair and you shuffle between her legs, sucking on her nipples and swirling them with the tip of your tongue. She moans and bucks her hips.

"Thank you for being so patient Becca," you smirk and wink, sending a flush of color rushing through her pretty face.

Using both of your hands, you raise her left thigh higher onto your shoulder as you lick between her soft pussy lips. You glance back towards Rebekah's brothers, expecting one of them to take advantage of your inviting posture.

Elijah steps forwards and bends over you, kissing your ass cheeks before easing his cock into your pussy, moving with slow, lazy thrusts. His hands roam your ass, murmuring praise and making you blush.

Rebekah groans softly, and that is all the encouragement you need to start focusing your attention on her clit, slurping messily, loving the sounds you are pulling from her. You ease two fingers into her heat, curling your fingers as you thrust and swirl them inside her, drawing out more and more of the erotic symphony she makes.

You can tell she is close by the way her legs are trembling. You pull your mouth away from her core to let out a sharp cry as Elijah picks up the speed. You quickly re-attach your mouth to her pussy and fuck her fast and hard with your fingers. The rapid pressure of your fingers against her g-spot has Rebekah grabbing at your hair and trying to hold your mouth firmly to her clit as she falls apart, squeezing your head with her thighs.

She pulls you back by the hair and lets out a contented sigh, softly moaning as your fingers continue moving deep inside her.

Rebekah giggled at the look on your face, watching you being slowly fucked by Elijah, she could tell you were desperate for more.

"You love to torture her, don't you Elijah," Rebekah hissed, feeling the soft bites your teeth delivered to her tender skin. "You want her to beg for more, don't you?"

"She can hardly beg with your thighs clamped around her head," Elijah chuckled.

You moaned as Elijah's hand tangled into your hair, pulling you up so your face was pulled away from Rebekah's pussy, her wetness covered your lips and chin.

Klaus was watching the scene, stroking himself, smirking as you gasped when Elijah took complete control.

"You are ours," Elijah growled, nipping at your neck. "And we are going to show you just how much we love having our little play thing around."

His lips traced along your pulse-point before nipping his teeth across your flesh, leaving red and purplish bite marks as he went.

Klaus and Rebekah moved closer, both of them sitting up on their knees in front of you. You reached out to Rebekah, your fingers moving back between her legs. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath catching in her throat. Your fingers found her clit and gently circled it.

Her hips jerked towards your hand as you continued to grind your ass back on Elijah's cock.

You took Klaus in your other hand and stroked his length, the four of you moving in sync, your hands, lips, hips and tongue working in tandem to tease and pleasure them.

There were so many different sensations and you were trembling from the intensity of it all. You had no control over anything, and yet you had complete power over the sensations they were all receiving. 

It was filthy, scandalous, but it felt so good.

Elijah sank his cock deeper into you and his mouth trailed kisses along the back of your neck. Klaus, Rebekah and you were panting and moaning, each of you edging closer to climax.

Rebekah came first, she threw her head back and moaned loudly, her body tensed, her muscles clenching around your fingers. You watched as she rode your hand, her cunt pulsing and you moaned with delight as her thighs tightened.

Klaus was next, and he grunted as he came, spilling into your hand. His eyes were glazed over and he grinned lazily.

Elijah picked up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and harder as he approached his own climax. "Going to fill your delicious little pussy up," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening.

He buried his cock inside you and came, causing you to buck and whimper. You felt his release fill you and you couldn't help but groan.

"Such a pretty little thing, so good for us," Klaus whispered as he stroked your hair. Watching your eyebrows arch as you came on Elijah's cock. Rebekah cooed in the background, smiling with pride.

All thoughts evaporated as the sweet tension took over and you let go, moaning long and low as your climax hit.

Elijah pulled out of you, letting you fall forward into Klaus' arms. Elijah smacked your ass, loving the way the light burn added to your fading high.

You giggled softly as Klaus laid you down on top of him, while Elijah and Rebekah snuggled up on either side of you.

All thoughts dissolved with the warm afterglow, and the loving caresses on your heated skin. You buried your face into Klaus's chest, Rebekah massaging your scalp, Elijah gently rubbing circles across your lower back.

"I think she's the best one yet," Rebekah yawned, her cheeks still red.

"Definitely," Klaus replied, closing his eyes.

Elijah murmured softly in agreement, breathing deeply through his nose. The brothers were quickly fading to sleep.

"You guys do this often?" You chuckled, listening to their hearts thump as they calmed down.

"Only occasionally," Elijah admitted sleepily, kissing the top of your head. "For special occasions with special people,"

You smiled contently, pleased with yourself and the three immortals surrounding you.

"So are you saying I'm special?" You teased, giggling at their groans.

"Yes darling, extraordinarily so," Rebekah sighed happily, nuzzling into your shoulder. "Please, don't leave."

"Ever." Klaus and Elijah grumbled.

"Never ever." You sighed contently, drifting off to sleep in the warm embrace of three, perfect lovers.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[moonstruckme]

Hey!! I saw your posts about colour blind!reader and reader with hearing problems and i really love them, I have to wear hearing aids myself so it is really lovely to see some representation!! So I was wondering if you could do remus x reader (or any marauder i don't mind) where the readers hearing aids broke and remus has to help them communicate for the day while they wait to get them fixed? If you aren't comfortable with that don't worry<33

I'm so glad you liked them sweetness, thanks for requesting! Unfortunately I don't have anyone in my life who uses hearing aids that I could consult about this, so I had to rely on the internet and apologize for any inaccuracies <33

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words

“Moony,” James says, cocking his head at you inside Remus’ car. You’re sitting placidly in the passenger seat while the car trembles with bass. “What’s she doing?”

“She likes the vibrations,” Remus replies, carrying a giant tupperware container of chili. Ever since he moved in with Lily, James has taken to “accidentally” making too much of nearly every meal they have so that his friends are forced to come over and take home leftovers. (“I thought the recipe was supposed to be tripled,” James had said over the phone. “You’ve gotta take some off my hands, Moony, it’s gonna go bad.”) 

“She’s gonna be shaking the whole block if she turns that up any louder,” Sirius says, following them out of the house. “How can she stand it?”

“Hearing aids broke yesterday,” Remus explains, opening the passenger door. James flinches at the sound that bursts out, and Remus hands you the chili before reaching around you to turn down the dial on the radio. “We’re waiting for the shop to call so we can pick them up,” he finishes. 

You wave at the boys, and they wave back with smiles somewhat bemused. 

“How bad is her hearing without them?” James asks concernedly. 

You go to respond, having read the question on his lips, but Remus sets a hand on your shoulder. 

Hold on, he signs to you. This will be more fun. 

You roll your eyes, but play along with his game, letting Remus speak for you as if you can’t do it yourself. 

“She can’t hear much of anything,” Remus says. It’s the honest truth, though he neglects to mention that you’re still perfectly capable of speaking and also quite skilled at reading lips even without the aids. “Some loud noises or things with a deep pitch, but not enough to make out speech.” 

“Huh,” James says. “Well, tell her I hope she enjoys the chili.” 

This is great, Remus signs to you. I never get to practice. 

You’re mean, you sign back, even as your lips twitch at the corners.

“She says she’s sure she will,” Remus says. “Thanks for saving us some.” 

James grins. “No problem.” 

“If she really likes vibrations, she should come take a ride on my bike sometime,” Sirius suggests, and he’s smiling, because he knows exactly how Remus will feel about that offer. Remus hates the idea of even Sirius, let alone you, on a motorcycle. “Tell ‘er, Moons.” 

You’re already looking at Remus with a mischievous smile. 

No way, he tells you. Not happening.

Buzzkill, you fingerspell. 

Remus shrugs, and he doesn’t need to sign anything for you to read and what about it? in his expression. 

“Ooh, they’re fighting,” Sirius deduces, laughing darkly. “This sign language stuff isn’t so hard to pick up on, is it Prongs? You can get the general meaning from their faces.” 

Remus plasters on a smile. Not hard? I’ve been learning for two years, he vents to you. 

You give a little laugh. Don’t listen, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But at least tell him I said thanks for the offer.

Remus turns to Sirius. “She says fuck you.” 

You make a sound of offense, slapping Remus’ arm lightly. 

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “She said thank you for the offer. But no.” 

“It’s crazy,” James says with a little smile. “Everything you’re claiming she says sounds exactly like what you would say if you could choose, Moony.” He glances at you, and you raise your eyebrows like I know, right?

“Alright, we’d better be off,” Remus decides, shutting your door for you and rounding the front of the car. “Thanks for the chili, Prongs. And Pads, your bike is banned to her, so don’t offer again.” 

“Buzzkill,” Sirius calls after him, but Remus pretends not to hear, shutting his door. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice a bit louder than you’d usually allow. You’re grinning at Remus. “That’s exactly what I said!”

[secretly-tumb1r]

Roadtrip - hotch x reader

summary: when hotch finally sheds his stubbornness, he decides to drive back to Quantico from New York, in an attempt to rest his punctured eardrum. You couldn’t leave him without company, so you join him.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, making out, alcohol usage

A/n: first hotch fic hope you love it!! Also i cant exactly remember the dialogue between hotch and prentiss at the start forgive me😭. Enjoy lovelies💞

masterlist

(gif not mine all credits to original creator <3)

“Here, for your flight back.” Hotch hands the platter of baked goods to Agent Prentiss.

“What, you aren’t coming with us?” Her eyebrow cocks up in curiosity. “No, I really shouldn’t be flying” He shakes his head. “are you sure? it’s a 7 hour ride back to Quantico” Rossi asks, words chosen carefully. Hotch looks down. “I’ve taken that road before, you’ll see loads of country, beautiful scenery, maybe you should extend your trip a day or two.” Hotch easily picks up what he was putting down, suggesting he should take a rest. “Thank you” “Take all the time you need” Rossi nods at him and gets in the black SUV.

“Hey.. care for some company?” you smile brightly at Aaron and surprisingly, he returns the gesture. “Sure why not, hop in,” his eyes twinkle with happiness at the thought of you two on a roadtrip alone, maybe even in a hotel room. You cheerfully make your way to the passenger door, waving a quick goodbye to the rest of your team.

“Well.. we all know what’s gonna happen in the one day Hotch and y/n will take off” Morgan teases. “I don’t wanna think about it..” Reid grimaces at the thought, earning a laugh from the rest.

—————————————————————————

You had been on the road for quite some time yet. The sky was darkening and you were engulfed by silence bar the quiet radio playing in the background. Your eyes dared to close as your head fell down as sleep was consuming you. Work lately was.. exhausting. Aarons eyes shifted slightly from the road to your tired physique and his heart nearly broke. Seeing you so tired, he made his mind up to pull over at the nearest hotel.

It wasn’t for another 2 miles that his car finally stopped, and you were awakened from your slumber by a soft voice. “y/n” he gently patted your shoulder, “cmon wake up, we’re at a hotel” you stirred in your sleep “mm 5 more minutes” you practically moaned and leaned into his touch. His mouth went dry, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as a he took a big gulp. “y/n, wake up” he said a bit sterner. Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice, embarrassment filling your body. “Sorry! sorry i’m up.” you try to look as awake as possible. “cmon let’s go in we’re both tired”.

Hotch was normally so.. stoic. His face blurred of any emotion except seriousness. You were pretty sure in the one year you had worked at the BAU, you’d never seen him smile. That was awake Hotch, sleepy hotch was merely the opposite. It looked like all attempts to contain human emotion were discarded a few hours back. Sleepy Hotch was more.. human like, it was refreshing seeming him emit feelings like the rest of us mortals.

“I’m sorry sir, we only have one available room right now.” Hotch’s gaze didn’t shift off the guy at the till. “It’s fine. We’ll take that please.” he hands him his credit card. “Are you sure? There’s only one bed in that room” Your breath hitched. You’d either be sharing the bed or one of you would have to sleep on the floor, which you assumed Hotch would take it upon himself to take his place on the floor. “Yeah it’s fine we’ll work something out” he sighs deeply and shoves his hands down his pockets.

Aaron tried to keep his composure at the thought of you two sharing a bed. Of course he knew it wouldn’t happen, he’d have to sleep on the floor, but the thought of it suddenly made him wide awake.

When you made it to the room you realised you had no change to sleep in, so you discarded your pants and bra and pulled your button up shirt that reached your mid thighs down. Stepping out the bathroom while tying your hair up in a low bun, Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. You were radiating. Even tired and only in a shirt you still managed to look exquisite. His eyes hungrily scanned your body stopping at your exposed thighs, arousal building up inside him. He did his best to look you in the eye as he stared in silence.

“Like what you see boss?” You teased, your eyebrows lifting suggestively. “uh- “ he gulped hard. “i’m gonna go uhm- yeah”. He disappeared in the bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face, he took his tie, belt and button up shirt off, leaving him in his pants and a undershirt he appeared to wear under his shirt. When he stepped out, you had to keep yourself from salivating. His biceps looked incredibly big, and his pants fit him perfectly. You bit down on your bottom lip, a gesture you only did when you were excited. Hotch knew that. His confidence building back up inside him as he repeated your previous words.

“Like what you see” and he suggestively raised his eyebrows like you did just moments ago. “uh- i- “ He laughed brightly, which took you by surprise because untill a few moments ago, you hadn’t even seen him smile before. Your shoulders relaxed as you slumped down on the bed. “so i’ll uhm- take the floor” he began to say. You quickly interrupted him. “cmon boss, don’t be like that, it’s only one night. I promise i’ll keep my distance” His mouth twitched into a smile, and his heart grew. He didn’t think you’d suggest sharing a bed, but he was glad you did. He joined you in bed, heart beating so hard he thought it would jump out his chest.

You couldn’t help but feel giddy, like a highschool kid with her first crush. His presence was so hard to ignore, and your body moved before your mind as you turned to your side to face him. He was laying on his back looking up at the ceiling, he looked so beautiful. You couldn’t help but admire his features. His dark eyebrows, and even darker eyes, his high cheekbones and his big nose. Something about big noses excited something in you. You had no idea why.

Hotch turned his head to look at you, his eyes scanning your body. Your hands were pressed under the side of your head, and your leg was slightly bent, showing the curve of your ass. He felt his pants tighten as he abruptly got up, walking to the mini bar.

“Would you care for a drink?” You lifted yourself on your elbows to look at him. “Sure why not”. One drink turned into two and two turned into too many, and quickly you were laughing and telling eachother embarrassing childhood stories.

“No i’m not even lying! I licked his teeth!” you said as you teasingly pushed his arm. Hotch, between laughs, said “Your first kiss, and you licked his teeth?” He collapsed on the bed laughing. “What can i say i wasnt the best kisser”. Suddenly, he stopped laughing, his eyes filling with lust.

“Are you still bad at kissing?” His dark eyes bore into yours as you softly said “yes” picking up what he was putting down. “Why don’t you show me and i’ll give you some pointers.” His hand met your cheek, grazing it gently, as he pulled you in, his lips crashing onto yours. He tasted like alcohol and sweetness, intoxicating. His cologne filled your nostrils as you shifted your legs to straddle him, both of your thighs pressed against his ribs, as he cupped your face and tilted your head back, deepening the kiss. His hand moved to your thighs, kneading the soft skin making you gasp. He took the opportunity of you opening your mouth more to slip his tongue inside your mouth. His soft tongue dancing in a slow rhythm with your own. He moved both of his hands to your thighs gripping them tightly as your hands make their way to his hair, pulling it.

Your mouths moved in tandem and unity, a pace that was so calming yet so awakening. You had never felt this way before, and now that you had, you never wanted to back to feeling how you used to.

first part what do y’all thinkkkk?? i know this isn’t very “erotic” but i js needed to see if you guys would like it. Lmk if you do and i’ll post a very very spicy part 2 lovelies. LOVE YOU ALL MWWWAHHHH kisses xoxo💞

[heartfeltcherie]

I'm here for Alastor and Lucifer meeting a sinner who is in personality like Aurora 🥺

aurora is my favourite disney princess so this was so fun and exciting to write <33 (unless you didn’t mean that kind of concept then… completely disregard this lol)

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

lucifer;

it must have been one of his lucky days (which he counts a lot, since he doesn’t have many of them) when lucifer crossed paths with you. and he was sure the pupils in his eyes had taken the form of hearts because “oh my golly, you’re so beautiful.” and he doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until he hears the most angelic giggle (which is odd, beings as you’re in hell) paired with a soft spoken voice. “oh, thank you. you’re too kind”

how you ended up in hell, let alone the pride ring, absolutely baffled him. you’re too sweet, and kind, and gentle to be down here amongst these other sinners who left their manners back in their past life.

upon meeting you, he wonders if he’s got a chance with you. your relationship flashes in his mind of him making you laugh with his terrible jokes and him showing you his entire collection of rubber ducks (he’s sure to go home and make a new one, inspired by you, of course).

he melts when he sees how good you are with razzle, dazzle, and keekee — he swears he’s never met someone so amazing with animals before. and the way you’re so kind to his daughter and her friends makes him think that he’s found the one… which is a lot, since he lost lilith so long ago.

he takes you back to his house and puts on a show for you both to watch (some old timey film that you suggested).

he tells you to make yourself comfortable and he feels his heart leap when you lay down and put your head on his lap.

“sorry, is this too much? i can move-”

“no! no, you’re perfect right there- uhm. you don’t need to move, i-it’s pretty cozy”

“hehe okay :)”

it doesn’t take long before lucifer realizes he’s the only one watching the film while you’re fast asleep in the comfort of his lap. he looks down at you all soft and chuckles to himself.

“yup. this is definitely a sign”

alastor;

he’s very… confused, when he first meets you. tilting his head with that same smile he usually has on his face, leaving everyone to wonder what he’s truly thinking… and it’s about you.

he feels it’s a mistake. a dumb mistake made by those things that have the audacity to call themselves “angels”. you’re too perfect, and good to be in a place like this. you deserve to be in a place filled with greenery and soft shades of pinks and lavenders, not in the fiery depths of hell.

you’re shy. and he takes notice of this right away, using it for his own personal advantage; enjoying the way you stumble over your words and nervously fidget with your hands as he asks you “cat got your tongue, my dear?”

“it’s not everyday you come face-to-face with a powerful overlord”

he doesn’t know what or how he feels about you, but there’s a feeling stirring down inside of him. something perhaps like… adoration? no, it couldn’t be. he never feels that way towards anyone.

but you’ve got this softness that surrounds your whole being that he can’t shake from his mind — you’ve even (accidentally, oops) called him handsome which caused his ears to twitch and a very loud record scratch that hurt poor husk’s ears.

“i’m well aware, my dear. but you’re kindness is appreciated”

everyone sees the way you both secretly look at each other (alastor denies it but he knows it’s true) and you can’t help but be nervous every time alastor is next to you, pinks cheeks and a fast beating heart that you’re sure he hears.

“i’ve noticed you get quite on the edge when i’m near you. pray tell why that is?”

“al, it’s… nothing”

“don’t worry, cher. you’re lucky i happen to like the sound of your beating heart. especially knowing that it’s mine. isn’t that right?”

taglist 🏷️ @crystal-rayn @drxgonspine

comments and reblogs are great appreciated!

[kurishiri]

alfons v.s. ring . . . ring schwartz epilogue 💍

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: suggestive undertones.

Kate: If it’s come to this... then let’s do it! I mean, pretending to do naughty things!

Ring: Y-yeah, I do know that’s our only choice here, but... there’s no way I could do it.

R: Um, those kinds of things... I’ve never actually done them before!

R: But... s-since you’re really cute... I’m sure you have plenty of experience and whatnot...!

Kate: W-what do you mean, ‘plenty,’ there’s no way I have that much experience! Anyway, forget about that, we need to do something about this...

K: Ring, you go shake and push on the bed to make it creak!

K: And I’ll listen in on the other room and make sounds to match!

Ring: ...That seems more doable.

Ring went atop the bed and started to jump on it.

The bed did start creaking, to be sure, but it also was making some jarring noises that made me think the bed was really about to break down.

Kate: Could you be a bit more gentle though, Ring? It’s too much...!

Ring: Oh, umm, then... how about this!?

He briskly stepped off the bed before he put both hands on the bed and started to push down.

By doing so, he could create a good creaking sound that didn��t go too far.

Woman’s voice: The bed from the room next door has started creaking.

Man’s voice: In that case, they’re probably just a pair of lovebirds. Guess we were worrying ourselves over nothing.

Woman’s voice: ...That said, don’t you think it’s strange that there’s not a peep from the other side?

(Oh, that’s right! I have to make noise too.)

Kate: Ah, ahh... ahhn...

Ring: H-hey, um. I can’t say I’ve heard others doing you-know-what before, so I may be wrong, but...

R: When women do, you know, the deed, do they really sound this monotone...?

Kate: I mean, we’re not actually doing it, so that makes it harder...

Woman’s voice: The panting from the room next door sounds a bit strange, wouldn’t you say?

Man’s voice: It sounds real flat...

(First Ring, and now the two in the next room over are doubting me too...! At times like these, then...!)

Kate: I-I’m really, really sorry! I’ve been told by a lot of partners that my panting sounds suuuper flat!

At this point, I decided to play into the role of ‘a woman whose pants sound flat’ as I raised my voice.

Ring: N-no matter how you are, I won’t mind at aaalll!

While continuing to push down on the bed, Ring returned a fitting line in response.

...Very monotonously, may I add, for the both of us.

Woman’s voice: ...Huh, I guess they really are just one odd couple.

Man’s voice: I mean, seeing as they’re using a room of a strange manor like this, that would be a given, probably.

Kate: Oh, thank goodness, it seems they’ve bought the act...! Let’s keep this up then!

Ring: Alright... but, sorry, I’m a bit hot, so I’ll take my jacket off.

Seeing as the bed is hard, having to push down hard enough to make sounds continuously must have taken a considerable amount of stamina.

With that, Ring casually took off his top layer and put it aside.

(...)

Maybe because of the way his clothes fit his body so well, his well-trained muscles were brought to the surface.

The sweat that came from shaking the bed moved traced the back of his neck, making him quite sexy.

Ring: ...Kate? Is there something wrong?

Kate: N-no, not at all! It’s nothing——

Taken aback at having become more conscious of Ring, my legs buckled suddenly,

and, preparing for the impact, I closed my eyes then and there.

Kate: ...!

(Hm? Wait, it doesn’t hurt...?)

Ring: Are you okay?

When I slowly opened my eyes, there Ring was, nearby, as he asked with a touch of worry in his voice.

(So Ring is the one who saved me and stopped the fall...)

Our bodies were touching, and I could feel his body was a bit warmer than mine, and he gave off a pleasant, earthy scent.

(Even though he’s holding me in his arms, he seems completely unperturbed... his appearance hardly betrays the fact he must be training regularly.)

(...Wait, what in the world are you looking at, Kate!?)

Kate: T-thank you for saving me. I’ll let go now.

Ring: ...Wait.

Kate: Huh...

When his earnest voice stopped me stiff, Ring’s hand gently slid to my cheek.

(W-what the...!?)

Ring: Your face is all red. Did you hit it somewhere?

(Oh... so he was worried for me.)

Kate: N-no, I didn’t. I’m fine.

Ring: But...

Kate: It’s just... we’re so close together that I’m a bit nervous... is all...

Ring showed no sign of pulling away himself, so I opted to give him an honest answer then. And when I did, Ring also turned red, as though it had moved over from me to him.

Ring: I-I see... then, umm, I’m glad if you’re okay.

R: Sorry for keeping you like that. ...And should we continue then? What we were doing before, I mean.

After that, we continued our act of panting and shaking the bed until we exited the room.

Ring looked exhausted as we exited the room, and there was Alfons, waiting out in the hallway.

Alfons: Thank you for your hard work. Now then, were you able to listen in for what we needed?

Kate: Yes, all of it and everything...

Alfons: My word, is that a hoarse voice I hear? And not only that...

A: I see Ring has stripped his outer layer off and is positively sweaty as well.

A: Would it be safe to assume... you two have gone aaall the way, by any chance?

Ring & Kate: “No!” “Absolutely not!”

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

END NOTES: this story was so silly and makes me smile whenever i read it, haha. ring seems to be the most popular of the vogel trio, seeing he has gotten a dark mafia design, and it’s not hard to see why. his charm is in his innocence, and it’s like a breath of fresh air in this game, and i hope i could capture it too.

i’m overall curious about all the vogel members and feel this story event is a strong debut for all three. thank you for reading, and hope you enjoyed! i’d love to hear your thoughts as well ♡

full masterlist 🪞💍

[summerchlds]

I KNOW YOU

Neil Perry x gn! reader

Synopsis: In which you and Neil end up in a vintage photobooth.

An: Hello!! This is my first post on this account so I apologize if this sounds like shit😭 Also!! English is not my first language and I’ve never stepped foot into a Photo Booth so if I wrote something wrong then that’s on me🫡🫡

💌

When you two entered through the curtain and into the booth, You found it to be particularly small, barely big enough for the two of you to fit inside. It was kind of dark, the walls were maroon colored and the only thing there was in there was a built-in camera in the wall and a bench to sit down on so it was kind of empty (besides the scribbles and notes people had written down on the walls that the owners were too lazy to remove). You’ve both never seen or been in a Photo Booth before, not having a single clue on how it exactly worked, fearing that you’d accidentally break something.

“It’s quite cramped in here, isn’t it?” He teased softly, being fully aware of the amount of space you two had. You nodded, breathing out a faint ‘yeah’ under your breath. You tried to make yourself sit comfortably, but it was kind of hard when the side of your body was stuck glued beside his as your other half was against the wall.

Neil leaned down slightly.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked softly, his voice husky as he looked you up and down with a small smile. You once again nodded, not wanting to burden him. It was fine. Afterall, you couldn’t do anything about it. Neil turned his head back to the camera, looking clueless.

“Does it even work?” Neil asked as his brows furrowed.

“I hope so.” You responded, feeling hopeful. There was a button sticking out underneath the camera lens.

“I think this button starts the camera and countdown.” He said, unsure.

Neil reached slightly up to press it, unsure if it was the right thing to do. Thankfully, the lightbulb that hung above us, slowly lit up, triggering the timer countdown for the first picture. As the countdown went, You both realized that you had to act fast if you wanted the pictures to turn out good. You had no idea how many seconds you were given, could’ve been ten seconds or thirty if this machine was nice enough.

“What should we do?” You asked, a little panicky.

“Just smile!” He said quickly, leaning back a little against the wall. You took this opportunity to lean a little closer to the camera as you smiled nervously. You didn’t have that many high hopes for the first picture, just wanting the first picture to show you two smiling as a start. You posed awkwardly for a few seconds before the camera’s flash unexpectedly came on.

The bright flash blinded both of you, causing Neil and you to let out a small groan of discomfort as you both rubbed your eyes. Neil leaned back up beside you as he tried to blink away the spots in his vision, adjusting to the sudden change of light.

Now it was time to think of a new pose to do. Without thinking, you shifted yourself to lean your head towards him as you, again, smiled at the camera. You weren’t expecting for him to do the same though, but he did. Your heads linked together as you both smiled sweetly and the camera clicked once again.

You two pulled apart, feeling the warmthness of his cheek leave yours as you tried to figure out what pose you were going to do next. Neil seemed to have no problem with this whole thing, just freestyling everything. Maybe it was because you knew he would look good in any pose he chose to do.

You suggested to him that you two could make funny faces, just to humorize the photos. He didn’t say anything, let alone move as you got into your position, scrunching up your nose as you smiled mischievously. You awkwardly waited for the photo to be taken as you watched Neil from your peripheral vision. He turned his head towards you and just stayed there, watching you. His gaze seemed to burn a path through you.

You wanted to turn your head to face him but you’d have to wait until the picture would get taken.

When the flash finally covered the whole booth for just a split second before disappearing again, the light above you dimmed, signaling for you two to exit the booth, but you didn't, you stayed there as if you were expecting something more to happen. You turned your head immediately to see what was the problem. You were planning to ask him ‘why didn’t you pose?’ or ‘is there something on my face?’ but when you turned to him, you realized how close your faces were. And suddenly, your mind became blank. He stared down at you with a feeling of undeniable adoration in his brown eyes as he watched you almost hungrily. There was a tender, fond adoration flickering in his eyes, the way it often did in private moments like this. The warmth and affection in his expression made you feel vulnerable and cherized at the same time. His eyes seemed to take in every little detail, capturing it and piercing it into his mind, afraid to lose the memory of how you looked like, in case you two would in the future pull apart and never see each other again. His expression was soft and full of warmth, as if he found every little thing about you utterly mesmerizing.

“What?” You muttered quietly, already feeling yourself getting lost in his eyes. Oh how you could stare into them for hours on end.

“What?” Neil asked in return, his voice low and warm, tinged with a hint of amusement. In the midst of darkness, you could see a speck of light reflecting on his eyes from outside the curtain where the streetlight resided. You felt his breath from his open mouth hit your face as it made you realize how close your faces have gotten.

“May I kiss you?” He softly whispered against your lips, glancing down at them for a split second before returning his gaze up at you.

You opened your mouth, again and again to try and get something out but your voice had given up on you so you just nodded eagerly instead. He leaned down and closed his eyes, pressing his lips gently against yours. His hand travelled to your face, placing it on the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You reciprocated and held his cheek, your thumb grazing his sharp cheekbone. The kiss was short but sweet, only lasting a couple of seconds before he pulled away, exhaling ever so slightly as he looked breathlessly at you. You couldn’t help but let out a cheeky grin that spread over your red face, which caused Neil to laugh at you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

You walked out of the booth as you watched Neil pick up the pictures that were printed out and examined them. He had a cheeky smile on his face as he looked down on them, making you curious.

“Let me see.” You said and he handed you the strip. Without saying anything, you took it from him and looked at it closely. There were four black & white photos of you two stacked on top of each other, doing various poses for each one. The first photo though, caught your eye. It looked fine at first, you saw yourself smiling and narrowed your eyes to Neil.

His mouth was pulled into a wide smile which showed off his gleaming teeth and dimples. He looked adorable. Though unbeknownst to you, you saw his hand positioned behind your head, creating a bunny ears gesture, making you look like a fool.

When you realized this, you playfully hit his arm as a form of payback. He pulled up his hand to caress the spot where you hit him at, pretending to look hurt as he couldn’t help holding in his laugh.

“I just couldn’t help myself, I had to!” He said between laughs.

You didn’t want to give in but eventually did, giggling along with him.

Besides, you knew you were going to keep these photos in your dorm as a memory, even if they didn’t turn out perfect, they were special.

(After all, no one but you and Neil would fully know what happened after the fourth photo was taken.)

[littlegreenfag-archive]

Regarding @littlegreenfag

Tldr: Adina, known by the Tumblr urls littlegreenfag and prksoda, has spent the past several years lying about many facets of their life. The list of lies includes, but is not limited to, being half manouche Romani, being Jewish, and being descended from Holocaust survivors.

I never wanted to have to do this. I’ve spent months trying my best to encourage Adina to come clean themself. My methods were not ideal. I should not have used anonymous messages. I used to be friends with them, I should've talked to them openly as their friend. I also should’ve attempted to be less aggressive at times, even though I think it is incredibly reasonable to have felt the way I felt when I was sending some of those messages. I understand and regret both of these things. Unfortunately, since Adina has deactivated @littlegreenfag, I cannot provide links or screenshots to every ask of mine that they responded to, only those I saved at the time. I will do this later, upon request. This post is already going to be enough of a monster without them.

Though the last day has been a complete nightmare, I am satisfied with one thing: Adina came clean about everything, even if not publicly. My worry was always with the though of having to reveal their personal information, as many of the things they’ve lied about would require me to, functionally, dox them. Though it's technically all public, I would much rather that no one who doesn't already have access to this information gain it.

So, why am I writing this post? For those of you who were on Adina’s blog last night, you may have seen this post. I was also able to save a capture of their blog on the Internet Archive. Here is a screenshot that I took around when the post was first published. Apologies for the formatting.

To summarize, Adina begins to by admitting to a small lie, that they were born in Chicago, before admitting that they had been lying about their race. Though it was not present at the time of the blog's deletion, I would like to note that Adina had the phrase "jewish and half-romani" in their blog's bio for a very long time. This phrase was quietly removed after I sent the first anon message telling them that I was aware of their lies, on March 16th 2024. This can be seen on the Wayback Machine, by looking at the capture taken on March 5th, 2024, in comparison to the capture taken on March 24th, 2024.

That is what you may have seen. However, it is not the only major lie Adina has told. After suggesting Adina should turn off anons, I sent them another ask with my blog name visible, telling them that I could tell everyone about the other lies for them, if they wished to log off and be done with it. They messaged me privately, and this is the resulting conversation.

I apologize for the block of images, but I figured it was necessary to include the entire conversation. Here, Adina openly admits to not being Jewish. Adina has spent months receiving social benefits for claiming to be Jewish, and they've even used this claim to support arguments. Truth be told, Adina has one Jewish great-grandfather. How Adina expected me to believe they would know about this without knowing his surname, I will never know. However, I should emphasize that Adina is not Jewish by the standards of any main movement of Judaism. Orthodox and Conservative look for an unbroken line of Jewish women, while Reform asks that you be raised Jewish by a Jewish parent. Adina is descended from a Jewish man who converted to Catholicism and raised his children Catholic.

Regarding the Holocaust claim, I understand hat Adina did not directly address this. I will say that I find it suspicious that they deactivated as soon as I mentioned it, but they technically never confirmed it was a lie. However, with the information that:

The ancestors they mention as being survivors or victims quite literally do not exist and

Their Jewish ancestor was born in the United States well before WWII

I believe it is quite safe to say this was also a lie. My screenshots of their claims come mostly from their Reddit account, which is now deleted.

It is absolutely ghoulish to me to create fake relatives so that you can pretend they were tortured and killed during the Holocaust. All to receive sympathy.

Though there are many, many other lies Adina has peddled, such as being a child of divorce and having a dead biological mother, I don't think any of them matter much in the grand scheme of things when these are the other lies that have been told.

It is also worth noting that this is a pattern of behavior from Adina. As some of you who followed them may know, back in 2019, a blog was created with the intent of calling them out for lies. Frankly, this blog, @prksodalies , is what put me on to Adina's trail in the first place. Though I believe that several of the things Adina was accused of on this blog are downright cruel to accuse someone of without evidence, the fact that there were so many smaller obvious lies made me very uneasy. What specifically made me curious was the post, here, where Adina claims that they are half Lebanese. Obviously, this did not make a ton of sense with the half Roma and half Ashkenazi Jewish Adina we all knew. As it turns out, this was one of the very few shreds of truth from Adina. They're a quarter Lebanese on their father's side, and other than that and a Jewish great-grandfather, are of mostly Polish and German descent.

This being a pattern of behavior, alongside the way Adina behaved in messages with me, tells me that this will likely unfortunately not be the last time this person creates a Tumblr blog with a fabricated life story. I feel immense guilt at the thought that they may continue to swindle and hurt people, and that I will never know or be able to help again.

To everyone who was friends with this person and has been hurt by their actions, I am truly, truly sorry. This has been an absolutely miserable experience for me and I can't imagine it's much different for any of you. If you have questions, I'll be available for a least a few hours. I do not want to share any of their personal information, but I will share what I need to (privately) if some of you need or want more information.