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prolix-yuy · 6 months

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Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Incubus!Dieter Bravo x Virgin F!Reader

Summary: Have you no idea that you're in deep?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, religious corruption kink, bastardizing prayers, brief drug use, mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, breaking a hymen, descriptions of blood, biting and drawing blood, pheromone incubus anatomy, size difference/kink like whoa, monster transformation, monster fucking, PiV sex, wildly unrealistic sex, kind of dubious consent in the way that she has no idea what she's getting into so Dieter checks in A LOT, consent is sexy and monsters especially should ask for it, Reader has no idea what she's doing when it comes to summoning an incubus.

Notes: Like most things Dieter's involved in, it takes twice as long but you reap the most rewards. A little late for Halloween, but spooky season is 24/7 and I needed to put this out into the world as soon as possible. Very special gold star mutual thanks due to @ezrasbirdie who gave me the prompt for this story and then talked me through some of the ideas she had. Religious corruption kink is super new for me, not being raised in a formal religion, but it was incredibly interesting to explore in this way. Apologies for the sacrilege, friends, it's all in the pursuit of sexyness.

A big disclaimer! This is not a blueprint for losing your virginity! This is some wildly unrealistic sex, especially for someone who has never experienced PiV intercourse before! Please be safe and careful with your bodies. While we thirst over these scenarios and would love to take monster cocks, always practice safe and fun sex with partners who care about your comfort.

A second disclaimer that in this fic, the Reader defines losing her virginity as experiencing penetrative sex and breaking her unbroken hymen. Virginity does not look the same for every person, and each individual's circumstances may be very different. Virginity is also a social construct that has some gross stigmas around it, which we'll be briefly addressing. I've also kept the reader's age unspecified (18+ of course) but that she has gone to college, so whatever age you may be reading this, your own sexual journey moves at your pace and if/when you define that you've passed this milestone, that's the right time for you.

Cross-posted on AO3

The lines chalked into your hardwood floors glow with a sudden and panic-inducing heat, smoldering as a phantom breeze whips around your kneeling body. The lights in your apartment flicker and dim as a sooty haze hangs around your ankles. Springing to your feet, you frantically search for something to smear the careful symbols to nonsense while a crackle of electricity raises all of the hair on the back of your arms and neck.

It’s much too late to go back now.

Something pulls in the center of your chest as the room expands and contracts like a great beast breathing. You try to stand strong but the tremble in your frame chatters your teeth. Suddenly the room plunges into darkness, and a crack echoes in your ears before the light swells back to full strength. Bracing yourself for what may be in the circle you foolishly copied, you peel open your eyes.

Then, your mouth falls open, because never in your wildest dreams did you expect Dieter Bravo, famous actor, to be sitting in the middle of your half-assed summoning circle.

“What the fuck?”

He looks just as bewildered as you do, cross-legged on the floor and pulling his lips from a turquoise bong cradled in his lap. He’s wearing sunglasses - did you spirit him here from halfway around the world? - and an open silk bathrobe patterned with roaring tigers. The waterfall of folds bundle in his lap, and for a mouth-drying moment you wonder if he’s got anything on beneath. Then he shifts, billowing a cloud of skunky smoke at your ceiling and placing the bong at arms length.

Well, he is wearing socks at least, pulled halfway up his legs and under Crocs. You don’t know whether to laugh or choke on your tongue.

“What the fuck to you too,” he grumbles, creakily getting to his feet and dusting little frills of ash from his shoulders. It’s now easy to see he’s sporting tiny black boxer briefs, and your eyes fight to land anywhere but there. They finally find the book, opened to the page you scoffed over until your finished glass of wine goaded you on.

“This can’t be happening,” you finally squeak out, shifting on the balls of your feet as you spin and press your fingers into your cheeks.

“Sure is,” Dieter says, one hand on his hip and looking at you with naked curiosity. He’s swept back the robe on one side, showing off the shapely curve of his thigh, the soft definition of his stomach, how large his hands…

“I didn’t…I couldn’t have…you…go back,” you stammer, heart and head pounding. Does this mean you’re a witch? Did you honestly summon something with a book you rented from the library? Nothing makes sense with this man staring at you - practically leering - as you contemplate whether you’re having a dusty-old-book-based hallucination.

“Breathe, baby,” Dieter purrs, hands making soothing motions in the air between you. Taking in a big breath and letting it out explosively, you follow Dieter’s motions to sit down with him. The floor is hard and unforgiving on your bottom, but you criss-cross-applesauce with him as he leans back on his hands.

“Normally when I show up, people aren’t all that surprised,” he says, and his voice is raspy and sonorous in the room. You swallow hard, finding comfort in twisting the hem of your pajama shirt in your palms.

“Well, it’s pretty damn surprising to have THE Dieter Bravo in my living room,” you say, a momentary swell of pride when you realize your sarcasm hasn’t flown the coop with your sanity. Dieter chuckles, tilting his head onto one shoulder.

“Who were you expecting?”

“Honestly, no one. Nothing,” you lie. Half-lie. You were hoping for something pretty specific.

“Very cute, but let’s not pretend we don’t know what’s going on here. I know exactly what you were hoping would pop up in this pretty little circle of yours.”

Your eyes wander to his inner thigh, then snap to a symbol on the floor.

“I thought…” You sigh, ducking your head. “I thought I was summoning some sort of…sexy demon. At least that’s what the book said.”

“An incubus,” Dieter offers, and you nod.

“But clearly something went wrong, because you’re here, somehow.” You scrub a hand over your face. “No idea how I messed up this bad. I didn’t even know you could mess up this badly.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Dieter says in a carefree voice. “Mess up, that is.” You arch an eyebrow at him.

“But I got…you.”

Dieter leans forward, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head with a knowing smile. In the dim light of your apartment his eyes seem even darker than before.

“Exactly what you asked for. At your service.” He tips his head, tongue slipping from between his plush lips to swipe along his full lower one. A sudden patter of arousal grips your hips, and he half closes his eyes and breathes deep.

“That can’t…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

“Yes.”

“You’re an…incubus.”

“Also yes.”

The next question blurts out of your mouth too quickly to stop.

“Why?”

His laugh is just as quick and breaks some of the tension digging into your spine. The warmth of it wraps your head in cotton, smiling along.

“Oh, starlet, I should be pissed as hell to be pulled away from that fantastic party I was about to ruin, but this is turning out to be much more fun.” Your cheeks warm at the affectionate name. “How many people do you think summon incubi these days? A demon’s gotta get by.” He’s sliding closer to the edge of the circle but not moving past it. A small voice in the back of your mind notes that he might not be able to.

“So…acting,” you say, not without a little smirk. He seems to like that, smile stretching wider and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“What, should I be slinging burgers?” he asks with another snort of laughter. “C’mon, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense. Beautiful people, sex appeal galore, fast living and high octane relationships? I haven’t been hungry in ages.”

Your hands still in your lap, studying your fingers as you let the silence linger. Dieter allows it for a time before his voice pulls you back.

“But you summoned, and I came. You must have a reason.”

Now that the silly half-buzzed fantasy is mere feet from you, saying it aloud is daunting.

“You’ll…you won’t get it.”

His eyebrows lift in slow surprise.

“Try me.”

You're turned on more than you’ve ever experienced in your life, and Dieter’s nostrils flare as his jaw ticks.

“I was having a drink. A couple,” you correct, the dregs of the bottle giving you away. “And I was just hating the way I was feeling about everything going on and I looked at this book and it seemed like a funny thing, to try and summon a demon…”

“Incubus, get it right,” Dieter purrs, and the air thickens.

“I didn’t think it would work,” you protest, hands coming up to cradle your temples.

“But you hoped, enough to do all this work on the one day of the year when magic is easiest to grasp,” he teases, tilting his head to the side to catch your eye. It’s definitely not helping the situation that he’s Dieter Bravo, solid C-list star who’d captured your attention in more than one of his movies. Thoughts of his dark eyes and full lips drew your hands down your body on more than one occasion before…

Dieter growls low and frustrated. “Let’s cut to the chase, starlet. You’re laying out a buffet and I can’t even have a taste.” You blink owlishly at him before he smirks, licking an incisor. “I can smell how much you want me.”

Shock slams your mouth shut, face burning. Your traitorous body has failed you again.

“You called and I answered. I’m still in your circle, so you could send me away, but I doubt you know how to do that.”

He’s right. You’ve trapped him here. With little old you.

“Or, you could tell me what you really wanted when you spent all this time writing all these little symbols so carefully.” Dieter’s fingers dance along the chalk lines, smile turning cheekier. Steeling yourself, you let the truth out into open air.

“I called you because…I’ve never had anyone before.”

Dieter’s face remains cooly neutral, but you can see his nostrils flare briefly.

“You’ve never…”

You shrug, self-deprecating smile cutting through the awkwardness.

“I’ve done some things, by myself, but never…I’ve never had sex with anyone in the…classical way.” The words are starched and wooden but hit a chord with Dieter. He repositions to sit back on his knees, hands splayed on his bare thighs. The smooth expanse of his chest begs to be touched.

“I thought I smelled something special here, and I was oh so right,” he rasps, nipping at his lower lip while he drags his eyes over your body. “Human virginity is a social construct, but inexperience in pleasure? Being allowed to revel in your body discovering all the ways it can feel? That is a rare treat.”

You don’t expect the sudden rush of emotions at Dieter’s eagerness. Years of people either finding you broken or fetishizing your “purity” had given you an even larger complex than you thought.

“It’s not…fucked up that I’m doing this?” you ask.

“What sounds better to you, letting some Chad fumble through trying to pleasure you when his dick can barely handle your sweet cunt, or allowing someone with centuries of experience give you everything you ever desired?”

Your aforementioned cunt knows which one she wants.

“May I ask why you’ve waited until now?” he says, interrupting your railroading thoughts. Shyness and shame clouds your eyes.

“My parents were very religious. Lots of ‘thou shalt nots’ and ‘obey thys’. But I wanted to be a good daughter. So badly.” Dieter’s eyes are darkening as you speak, fingers pressing divots into his thighs. “So I did everything they said. Followed all the rules. And I grew up their perfect little girl. Never got caught sneaking out with a boy, never drank or smoked or anything.”

“How…boring,” Dieter comments. It stings between your shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much all I heard when I went to college. That I was boring for not liking weed. A buzzkill because I was nervous about breaking rules. And sex…”

Here you swallow, your lower lip trembling before you bite it back.

“I thought I was doing everything right. Everyone told me I was doing everything right. And then I get into the real world and nobody wants…” Looking up you catch a softer expression on Dieter’s face, true understanding blunting the lust.

“How have these fumbling fools tried to pleasure you?” he asks, and maybe the wine is still thrumming in your veins (it’s not), but your tongue is looser than it’s ever been.

“Grinding mostly. I think they’ve…cum…but I don’t. Not like when I do it myself.”

Dieter snarls softly. “Fuckers,” he rumbles, an oncoming thunderclap crackled with electricity.

“Every time I feel like I’m damaged goods,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought maybe this would…fix me.”

The lights in the room dip low as Dieter chuckles. Darkness seems drawn to him, settling around his shoulders like a fine stole.

“Betrayed by the God you worshiped so faithfully,” he muses, rolling his shoulders and licking his lips. “Don’t worry, starlet, I’ll take care of you tonight.”

“Can I…do anything for you?” you ask. Dieter’s smile softens, tutting quietly.

“Believe me, you’ll be perfect,” he praises, the heat in your cheeks even more unbearable. “Like I said, I’m rarely hungry anymore, but your arousal will be delicious. I’ll gorge myself on your peaks and leave you sated…and ruined for any after me.”

That should be a warning. It only makes your want greater.

“Okay,” you breathe out. Dieter’s smile widening again. Are his teeth…sharper?

“Now we can fuck to our heart’s content in this summoning circle here,” Dieter says, tapping his finger in the air. Motes of copper light and sparks rain down from an invisible barrier. “I’ve had more challenging obstacles. But if you would like me at my best, break the circle starlet.”

Standing back up, you retrieve a cloth from your kitchen table. When you return Dieter is standing in the center, prowling ever so slightly in his tiny prison. You move to wipe the line connecting the circle when…

“Are other celebrities incubi?” you ask, kneeling in front of him with open curiosity on your face. Dieter’s predatory smile quickly shuffles to confused and incredulous.

“I mean, maybe, I don’t keep close tabs.”

“Tom Hiddleston could totally be one. Or Robert Downey Jr. Heck, maybe Marvel just employs incubi to keep their revenue going…” Leaning down, you move to wipe the mark.

“Strange little starlet,” Dieter chuckles, and a warm breeze tickles the back of your neck. With one swipe the circle is broken.

“Hannah Waddingham would totally be…” you start to say, nerves tumbling words from your lips, but thankfully Dieter’s stop them.

He moves so quickly for a moment you’re sure he’s going to devour you, tear you limb from limb for imprisoning him. Instead he crashes your mouths together, hand firm on the back of your neck as his broad shoulders press you on your back. His hips slot between your thighs so smoothly you’re arching into them before you can think straight. Once your head is carefully lowered to the floor his hands find your wrists and press them above your head, maneuvering your thighs to wrap you around his waist. The dizzying feat of agility pales in comparison to his kiss.

Dieter commands your mouth to submit, tongue hot and lewd between your lips. You’re afraid you’ll choke on your own but he strokes delicate paths into the lush depths that keep you barely breathing. His lips are plush and yielding, pulling away to drag against the corner of your mouth or teasing the edge of your lips. And his teeth. You’d had boys clack against you, or press them harshly against your lips. Dieter knows exactly when to scrape them against your tongue, how much pressure to put with your lower lip trapped, the anticipation of them sliding against your skin before he dives in again.

“What a soft, pretty thing you are,” he rasps, and there’s a deep grinding quality to his voice now. Like stones moving slowly past one another, it vibrates straight to your clit as he inhales deeply behind your ear.

“Dieter…” you manage, his face lifting from his ecstasy to study your own. His eyes are somehow losing the edge of white, expanding into inky blackness. He lazily laps at his lower lip, and when you lean up to kiss his chin he snarls and presses deep into your apex.

“I’m sorry, starlet, I forgot you’ve been waiting to break promises,” he teases, sliding a hand down to knead at your ass. As quickly as you were laid out you’re suddenly in the air, legs wrapped around Dieter’s waist as he carries you out of your living room. His strength has you feeling light as a feather, barely a nuisance as he searches out a place for his plans.

“The bedroom.” You motion to a half-opened door and Dieter’s knowing smile precludes entering.

“Eager, aren’t we? What if I wanted to lay you out for everyone to see?”

The image of your body laid bare, covered in moonlight and monstrous hands, flutters your eyes as the bedroom door shuts behind you.

“No, tonight you will remain in my confessional,” he says, kneeling down on the bed and letting you fall back into the mess of pillows and sheets.

“You’re very fond of religious metaphor,” you rib, rubbing your thighs together as Dieter sheds the robe and his Crocs, a brief moment of clarity bubbling a giggle up your throat. Dieter’s motions slow as he regards you again, kneeling between your legs.

“Maybe I am rather fond of…corruption,” he husks, the word lighting on your skin like sparks. “Maybe I like seeing you forsake all for me.”

If he asked, you just might. The high of his attention is so great.

“But in this moment, what I mean is we will speak no lies in this room.” His hands trail down your thighs, and now your body remembers it has no experience from here. You shake, heart pounding as Dieter crawls up your body with only brief brushes to guide his way. “My promise is that you will know pleasure as great as I can offer. And you will tell me everything you think, and feel.”

He hovers over your body, broad enough to block the paltry light through your window.

“Would you like to be pleasured?”

“Yes, Dieter, please.”

His smile is wicked, and the scrape of his fingernails up your ribcage arches your back. In a fluid slide of his fingers your shirt is over your head and tossed into darkness, leaving you bare-chested under him. He hums with appreciation as his face descends, curved nose dragging along your tender skin. Time hangs in the balance as you tense for what may come, but Dieter only traces dizzying paths with the tip of his nose and the fullness of his lips. Up one side of your ribs, placing kisses at intervals, then along the underside of your breast. His hot breath warms skin, nipples hardening sharp and sensitive at the scratch of his facial hair. Then down the center of your stomach, a long and cyclical detour around your bellybutton. Stomach trembling, he hushes you as his fingers slide under your waistband and bunch your sleep shorts and underwear in his hands.

Another fluid drag and you’re nude, still swimming in endorphins at Dieter’s skilled touch. It’s only when hot palms wrap around your knees and begin easing them apart do you balk. Instinctively you clamp your legs together, heat flooding your face. Dieter tuts, smoothing his hands up and down your jittery thighs.

“What are you afraid of, starlet?” he asks, ghosting his fingers over the apex of your sex. Just the brush against your mound steals your voice, that same hot shame and anxiety pulling you in on yourself. When you don’t answer, Dieter commands more firmly, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Dragging your eyes from the ceiling back to him doesn’t help. He’s all mischievous eyes and knowing smiles, pressing a kiss to both of your knees as he rests his chin on them.

“I can make it easier for you,” he says, fingers finding a soft crease in your hip and stroking along it. “Give you something for the nerves, for any pain. I’ll only let you feel good here with me.”

You take two more grounding breaths and ease the pressure on your knees.

“”Sorry, I’m just…no one’s ever…” you say, but before you can explain your woeful inexperience he’s wedging his way between your legs and holding your thighs open in his firm tight grip.

“I’m the first to taste this forbidden fruit?” he asks, and you clench involuntarily. He waits as you gather yourself enough to nod. A deep, dark chuckle falls from his lips. “Starlet, you have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”

The question claws up your throat but no sooner has he glanced at your pussy he’s diving in to press his tongue deep and sweeping through your folds. The velvet slither arches your back off the bed, a strangled cry earning a satisfied hum between your legs.

“Holy shit, Dieter, oh my god,” you rasp as he flicks his tongue in fast swipes over your clit. It’s foreign and taboo, so much wetter and softer than your fingers and you can barely stop your hips from bucking into his mouth. One hand presses you down to the bed, his chin tilting up to catch your eye. Slick shines his mouth, and your pussy throbs when you realize his eyes are the shiny black of nightmares and creatures used to the dark.

“No god here, sweetheart. Only me. Only take my name in vain,” he growls, and the rush of blood in your ears speeds up when you realize the hand pressed on your abdomen spans the width of your hips. Black-tipped claws indent the flesh, prickling your skin just shy of pain. Dipping low again, Dieter swirls at your entrance and prods in, nose pressed tight to the button of your pleasure. The supple stretch is unfamiliar, pulling at a primal need to let him fill you. It tightens your thighs and shudders you against him as he forces you down again, the bite of claws a sharper warning. His jaw doesn’t stop, plunging and delving into you as deep as he can manage.

“Dieter, it’s never…oh fuck, it’s never felt this good before, please…please, I can’t stand it,” you beg, a rush of slick coating his tongue. Now a true snarl seeds your cunt, and in the charcoal dark his silhouette thickens, shoulders broadening under your knees. He pushes you further up the bed, pulling even greater cries from your chest. Dragging his tongue from your sopping hole, he sucks greedily on your clit, hands wrapped around your waist to lift you half off the bed. Suspended and flowing with arousal, your hands unclench from the sheets and circle his wrists. The skin is hot under your palms, and they dig deeper in at your scrabbling touch. It’s not enough, so with a boldness you pull from a dizzying depth you bury your fingers in his curls.

At first touch they’re soft. Long enough to wind around your fingers. You give a gentle tug and swear you feel a shudder around you. But as you bury them deeper another sensation tickles your palm. Something unyielding and curved, smooth like bone. Two protrusions fit in the webbing of your thumb and forefinger, short enough that the blunt tip brushes your knuckles. Horns, you think. A demon is eating me out and he has horns. And where you might have tried to wake yourself from a nightmare at this thought, instead you wrap your fingers around them and tug.

Like lightning something changes in Dieter. His lips tear from you with a roar that fills the room, your mind, spreading like forest fire and drying your mouth out. You hold on as he drops you back to the bed, the sound still ripping from his throat. Then there’s pain, supernova-like in intensity and scorching through arousal and fear. Your eyes snap down to Dieter’s mouth, but it’s no longer defiling your pussy. It’s clamped hard on your inner thigh, air puffing sharply through his nose. The pain radiates, and you realize he’s bit you. Not an overzealous love bite, you can feel the puncture of incisors and pump of blood into his mouth, the same pattern as your racing heart. Your hands release his horns, pushing you up as your mouth drops open in horror.

“Dieter,” you gasp, but with his horns released the pressure abates. His eyes open slowly, catching your terrified face. The curve of his brow morphs from surprise to apology to determination. Then a thumb presses firmly to your clit and circles it, washing pain away with pleasure teetering right on the edge. His fangs remain in your thigh as you stare at him, incredulity on your face but pleasure rocking your hips. He adds pressure to the bite again, speeding up his fingers as your brain struggles to differentiate one from the other.

Then, just as your spine begins tingling and your fingers go numb, one slick finger penetrates your cunt, smooth and deep, barely noticeable compared to the symphony of sensations. Like a reward, Dieter gives you the final stroke that crashes your orgasm over him, slamming you back to the bed as pain and pleasure and shame and exhilaration floods your brain. You barely register Dieter’s jaw releasing, fingers working you through your orgasm as the slow laps of his tongue lull you back to your body. Every muscle quivers, attempts to sit up failing twice before you manage to come up to your elbows.

Between your legs Dieter is pressing devotions to the spot he bit, open-mouthed kisses with peeks of tongue soothing the injury. His finger is still inside, a lazy caress of your walls foreign but not unpleasant. Finally he lifts up to his knees and turns his attention back to your face.

“I’m sorry, starlet, you got me a little too riled up there. I’ve fixed it, but you might be sore tomorrow.” A bloom of teeth circle your inner thigh, but no blood oozes out. You felt the pop, felt him inside you, and somehow he’s taken it back. “Can’t have you injured because of me, not very professional.”

“I hope it stays,” you pant, fingertips tracing the dark marks. The tenderness arcs down your spine.

“Fuck, you’re made for sin, starlet,” Dieter purrs, and now your attention can turn back to him. Grounding yourself with a healthy, “oh fuck,” is the only way you can fathom what he’s become.

He towers over you even kneeling, broad body only more tantalizing as he’s grown in stature. The well-known triangle tattoos you’d seen in paparazzi photos are joined by swirling patterns up and down his arms, concentric rings and text you can’t read patterning his skin. Where only wild curls were before now jut two smooth horns, curved away from his face and looking suspiciously similar to a goat’s. His skin almost steams in the room, wisps of smoke or condensation haloing his silhouette like an ominous aura.

Then his hand flexes again and you realize how full you are with just one finger inside, even observing how thick and wicked they’ve become.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and there’s only a hint of teasing now as he works his finger inside.

“It’s…okay,” you gasp, staring at the place where you’re connected. His thumb ghosts over your clit again, but so soon after your high it’s over sensitive, making you hiss and tremble.

“Shhh, starlet, just relax. Thought it would be better to take advantage of the pain.” With a final stroke that lights up your nerves he slips out, holding his fingers up for you to see. They’re wet with your arousal and a little blood, a lot less than you thought. “Now that’s out of the way, we can take our time giving you the best fuck of your life.” With a knowing smile, he pops his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean.

“Fuck, you really are…an incubus,” you say, acquainting yourself with the dull ache of your loss. There isn’t much fanfare, no swelling of emotion. If anything, breaking your hymen is probably the least memorable part of your night. Dieter’s smile falters briefly, and in a dizzying turn of events he shrinks back, closing in on himself. Ducking his head, you might think he was embarrassed, or shy. It looks stranger than the horns on him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Touching the horns got me a little too worked up. Let me open you up on my fingers for a little while longer, that’ll give me enough time to…change back.” His smile is sheepish now, hands roaming your thighs and stomach. Instead of the skin-crawling terror you thought that would instill, you’re practically preening under his touch.

“Is this you? This form?” you ask, and you let your boldness move to your hands. You stroke your fingertips over his, investigating the smoothness of his claws, how the joints of his fingers are more pronounced than yours. He scoffs an uncomfortable laugh.

“Uh yeah, mostly. But you’ll have a lot more fun bragging that you lost your virginity to THE Dieter Bravo,” he redirects, shaking his head like he’s annoyed he’s not that man yet.

In your brief and paltry handful of intimate moments, you never considered yourself bold. You’d let men touch you until your discomfort was too much, or your embarrassment pulled to the forefront. You never asked for the touches you enjoyed, or sought out the pleasures you dreamed of. But now, with a creature that’s endearingly vulnerable before you, your voice is finally strong enough to be heard.

“I’d like you to stay this way,” you say. Sitting up further, you skim your hands up his arms to cup his face. Your touch snarls his lip briefly before he settles.

“You can’t handle that, starlet. I’ve kept my human form reasonable, but you will not be able to take my cock,” Dieter husks. Tugging your wrist down to his waist, you palm him through fabric barely able to contain him. Thick and long in your hand, he drops his head and thrusts against you and gets bigger.

“Ruin me, then,” you whisper, filthy and naive into his ear. “I’ve waited all this time, saved myself for no one but you. Make me take no lover but you. Make me pray to you for ecstasy.” Leaning in to the metaphor rewards you. With a dangerous rumble he pushes you flat on your back, one hand wrapped around your throat.

“You want this, starlet? All of it?” he grits out, sickening cracks and pops echoing in the room. His hips force yours wide, planting his other hand by your head and carefully watching your face. The shine of his fangs whips your heart into a gallop, more ink dancing on his skin as he transforms from something beautiful to something magnificent. The room darkens perplexingly until you realize wings spread from his shoulders, thin light gleaming through the stretched web of skin. His aura crackles with molten motes, a whiff of fire and smoke making a home in your lungs. When he looks back at you, half familiar and half transcendent, his roguish smile brings one to your lips.

“Strange little thing, wet and ready for me,” he croons, removing his hand from your throat. A rip of stitching signals he’s as nude as you are now, and your eyes widen when the heavy length of his cock rests on your mound, curving past your navel and thicker than your hand can circle.

“Say you want Dieter Bravo back, and I’ll have just as much fun wrecking you in that form,” he says, but there’s something cautious between you now. A shimmer of anxiety and distrust. You’re holding a thread of something truer than he intended to give you, and if you drop it you’ll never find it again.

“Can you help me make it feel good?” you ask, sliding your palms along his chest. Without proper pupils it’s hard to track his expression, but you think it’s awestruck.

“Of course, starlet. You’ve learned to cum from pleasure and pain, but I won’t have you suffer more than necessary.” Dieter leans down and cups your head, bringing your nose to his neck right where it meets his shoulder. “Breathe,” he instructs, and you inhale deep. Below the smoke and heat you smell sweet new earth, lush and fruitful. It makes your mouth water, clutching at his shoulders as he begins rocking his hips against yours. His monstrous cock slips in the wet mess between your legs, slicking the underside generously.

“Fuck, you arousal is so delicious, I could taste you for centuries,” Dieter whispers. Lifting up, he smiles at your dazed expression and wandering hands. They trace his features, lingering on his lips. “How are you feeling now?”

You want him inside you, filling you up to bursting, to breaking. The need is hotter, all-encompassing. It’s surety that he won’t hurt you, that you’ll be shown pleasure beyond anything you’ve experienced. It’s lust but also trust.

“Can you kiss me?” is what you say, and Dieter’s smile is a touch softer before he leans down and claims your lips.

You swear you hear a hiss when he touches you, his skin scorching but not enough to burn. Parting his lips and nudging your jaw open, he traces the inside of your lower one with the tip of his tongue. One hand cups the back of your head, cradling you to his mouth, and with a forbidden thrill you realize his hands are now large enough that his fingertips caress the perimeter of your face. The threatening pressure of claws in your skin arcs arousal back in your cunt, winding your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he orders, and with a magnificent beat of bat wings his silhouette glows with dancing light much like a breath sparking fire to life. The warm hue of his human skin has gilded to gold, tattoos moving along the dips and peaks of his body. Eyes black and fathomless, his smile is a lifeboat in a raging ocean. He lets the heavy weight of his tongue wet his lower lip as your eyes widen, hefty cock lifting from your mound to press at your entrance. Scrabbling fear overtakes you, and you clutch at Dieter’s shoulders as the pressure mounts.

“Again, starlet,” he croons, but his voice is the rumbling of great stones moving over one another as you inhale deep of his scent. Cool water pours through your limbs, easing your muscles and letting your legs drop open wide. His other hand presses at your lower back and arches you off the bed, resting your thighs atop his own. Then, with a controlled push his head breaches you, wrenching a wrecked moan from deep in your chest. He stops as soon as he’s engulfed in your heat, the only betrayal of his own state residing in the long exhale of breath that tickles across your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Tell me if you need me to stop,” he grits out, but you shake your head and roll your hips. It’s sloppy, inexperienced, but he moves ever so slightly within you and it punches a groan from between Dieter’s clenched teeth.

“Please, Dieter, more,” you beg, his claws tightening around you again. Another measured advance, another wail, more snarling and groaning from the creature stuffing himself inside you. Whatever aphrodisiac he’s fed you is working magnificently. You’re full, the pressure intense, but the pain is dull and quiet. He’s watching where you’re joined so closely, stretched obscenely around his cock, waiting for your thighs to unclench before backing out and pressing deeper in.

“Touch your clit,” he gasps, “Rub that pretty clit so you can take all of me.”

Your fingers are nowhere as decadent as his tongue but they pull bursts of ecstasy close to the surface. Venturing a look down, you’re dismayed to see he’s barely halfway there, so much more of his pulsing cock still to take. He already feels like he’s in your stomach, battering against your lungs. Tears spring to your eyes, lower lip wobbling.

“It’s not going to work,” you whisper, and even with the knowledge that Dieter could turn human at any point you still wallow in the rejection you anticipate. Not good enough for anyone, not even the person you called for.

“Shhh,” Dieter soothes, easing you back down to the bed. He tugs over pillows to tuck under your hips before covering you with his body, still looking in your eyes even at his towering height. “Breathe. Do you want me to stop? I can let you rest, change back to my human form. If you can take all of this…” His hips twitch forward, a soft cry tumbling out. “...then you can take my human cock perfectly.” With a tenderness your eyes water for, he strokes his thumb along your cheek. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s already so much, so intense and mind-blowing, but you can’t help yourself.

“I want all of it, Dieter,” you say, consequences be damned.

Much in the same way touching his horns unleashed something in Dieter, hearing those words unlocks something even more primal and greedy in his face. Dropping down to his elbows, he presses your face against his neck.

“Bite,” he orders, the word igniting every pleasure center in your body. “Hard, starlet, give me one as good as I gave you.” The words are barely out before you sink your teeth into the crook of his neck, but instead of blood or other ichor you’re flooded with pleasure. The sensation rips an orgasm out of you, hips bucking on his cock. You register Dieter pulling out to the tip before slamming his hips into yours, seating himself fully inside your throbbing cunt. You don’t know how your body makes room for him, how you’re not screaming (well, maybe screaming some), but he’s inside you and littering your body with, “oh fuck, oh fuuuuucks” as he swirls his hips.

“I did it,” you coo in pleasure-dipped delirium, head flopping back on a pillow as Dieter starts thrusting into you in slow passes.

“You sure fucking did sweetheart, look at that perfect pussy taking my monster cock,” he praises, now sliding along your clit with focus. The overstimulation rolls right into desire again as your cunt learns how to gorge itself on pleasure.

“It feels…good,” you say, bearing down on his thrusts to meet him with a little more force. He purrs in admiration, starting to speed up ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Like how good you feel all stuffed full?” Dieter asks but it’s nonsense now, his focus pulling between your face and his cock pumping in and out of you. There’s a little more pain now, places where his cock brushes that zip sharp up your spine, but it’s far from unpleasant. In fact, you might like it. Maybe really like it.

“More, Dieter. Want to feel you. Please,” you moan, restraint flickering in Dieter’s eyes.

“Fuck, baby, you can’t say shit like that when I’m so deep in you, I won’t be able to…” His thought falls off as his thrusts speed up, a little more force at the end each time. It’s kissing at something devastating inside, something clawing its way to the surface through years of shame and dread.

“Please Dieter, I’ll beg for it. I’ll…” Your brain wraps around a wicked idea. “I’ll pray for it.”

That does the trick. Dieter’s lips curl back in a snarl as he rears up to his knees, wings spreading to fill the room with only him. Hands gripping your hips, he looks down at you not like a lover, but like a fallen god.

“Then do it, starlet,” he challenges. His smile is cool, but his cock twitches in your cunt. You have him.

“Glory be to you, Dieter,” you say, and hellfire light erupts around him. Dragging himself out of your cunt, he holds tight as a bowstring.

“And to your…fucking massive cock,” you continue, eyes rolling back as he fills you to the brim. “And to your true form, in all its beauty,” you add, softer now, drawing his eyes back up to you. Time hangs as he studies your face before dipping down and sealing your lips with a kiss that means too much for words. When he lifts away you finish the prayer.

“As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.”

Dieter’s smile glints.

“A-fucking-men,” he rasps, giving you just enough time to press your hands against the headboard before he starts railing you.

You’re lost in pleasure and ache and sin and Dieter pounding recklessly into your cunt. His grip paints bruises along your waist, battering thighs marking the inside of your hips. His claws dig into your flesh and sharp scrapes tighten your nipples. Hands roam up over your breasts, around your neck, pressing your wrists into the bed as ominous splintering and cracks echo in your ears.

“Another before I cum on your tits, sweetheart,” he pants, spitting down onto your clit and circling it with vigor. You cry out, hips bucking as the thickness of his cock impedes on your quivering walls. “It’s so close baby, just cum around me. Let me feel you cum on all my cock this time.”

“I can’t,” you cry out, shaking and sobbing around him. Dieter tuts, his rapidly increasing slap-slap-slap of thrusts maddening.

“You can, and you will starlet. You didn’t think you’d take my cock. I didn’t think you’d take it, and look at you now. So you’re going to cum. You’re going to cum now.”

The order shakes the room, pictures rattling on the wall as a final flick hurtles you off into oblivion with Dieter’s roaring triumph right behind. He’s somehow still fucking his cock into you even though you’re so tight it almost hurts to be cumming so good. A final crackling roar and you’re achingly empty, followed by a hot splash of cum across your stomach. Then another cresting your breast, and more and more until you’re covered in it, sticky trails sliding to pool in your bellybutton and drip over your sides onto the covers. Dieter is gasping above you, glowing like a sacred artifact as he pumps the last drops from his cock.

You close your eyes once and it’s a mistake. As soon as you let your eyelids touch exhaustion grips you, fighting your desperate attempts to reopen them. It’s battling this bone-deep tired when you experience Dieter’s return to a human form. The horns receding, tattoos fading to just the ones that grace tabloid pages. The wings fold away, and soon a sexy as hell rumpled and soft body replaces the supernatural one.

“Wore you out, starlet?” Dieter Bravo asks, kneeling between your parted knees with a rakish smile. You try to return it with a nod but your whole body is heavy, the mess barely bothering you. Dieter hums thoughtfully, and in a few moments a warm washcloth is cleaning up his cum.

“Side effect of my influence, helps a lot in the moment but it’s got some pretty strong sedative properties. Good for a speedy exit.” His chuckle sounds faraway now, even as you try to clutch at it.

“Stay,” you manage to croak out, hands seeking his body. You find his hair again, nose buried in your sex as he licks softly at your folds. The building ache there creeps back down to something dull and manageable.

“Our contract is up, can’t stay once you’ve given me what I’m owed.” Dieter’s lips start leaving small kisses along your abdomen, fingers soothing your skin. “Even if it was very, very good.”

“Please,” you try again, racking your rapidly puttying mind for anything to keep his hands on you.

“Even when you say it so sweetly,” Dieter says, but there’s melancholy now. It glances off your fingertips as sleep pulls you under.

In the between world of dreams, you think he says something more to you, but Morpheus snatches it away.

Hail, starlet, full of grace, Dieter is with thee.

This might be the silliest thing I’ve ever…well, hmm…

Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, all those delectable orgasms you gave me.

Holy starlet, bringer of…something special.

Pray for this sinner.

There’s blood on your sheets when you wake, though less than you expected. There’s also less pain, though the ache takes your breath away when you sit up too fast. Hobbling to the bathroom with the cool pink of morning light guiding, you inspect your body in the mirror.

You don’t look much different than before. Some strange notion of losing your virginity making you suddenly appear “mature” is dashed away. Maybe there’s a little glint of a secret in your eye, but not much more. Actually, surprisingly not much more. You expected bruises, scratches along your body and love bites marring your landscape. Instead your canvas is unblemished, no marks or injuries to hide. It’s almost as if he’d never been there.

Sitting down on the toilet, you wonder if maybe he wasn’t. That you dreamt up debauchery due to food poisoning or someone spiking the punch at the Halloween party. You couldn’t possibly have summoned an incubus.

A dark mark inside your thigh catches your attention, and any doubts dissipate. A ring of teeth, four larger fangs prominent, marrs the inside of your thigh. Brushing your fingertips over the circle, the skittering thrill of those memories settle in your chest.

You ride on the endorphins for a few days, a handful of people noticing. A work friend tries to interrogate you on it but “a lady never tells” is a saucy enough reply for her to give an approving look. You buy a new bed online, the base of yours splintered to ruin, but you keep the cracked headboard like a souvenir.

Online dating doesn’t seem as daunting now that you’re not so worried about the dreaded “first time.” You even accept a few dates, meet some generally nice men with generally boring personalities. They don’t make your heart race like a certain celebrity whose name you googled briefly before slamming your laptop shut. They certainly don’t kiss like him, or make sexy little jokes or terrify you as much as intrigue you.

So for a while you try to move on. There’s no other option, right? Dieter Bravo the Movie Star would never give you a second thought. Dieter Bravo the Incubus surely has better things to do, more lascivious living. So you try to find something even remotely like what you felt that night.

It’s mid-November when you find yourself sitting on your living room floor again, piece of chalk in hand. You lit candles this time, bought black lace lingerie, made yourself up to feel pretty. It doesn’t help your shaking hands as you pull the rug off the summoning circle. Touching up a few spots, you settle by the broken line where you released Dieter. It all popped off when you completed the circle last time, so with a deep breath and a swipe of the chalk, you reconnect the chalk.

And you wait.

And wait.

A bulb in a lamp flickers but it’s brief. An errant breeze almost snuffs out a candle. But nothing happens. Your knees are sore, eyes watering but you blink the tears away.

It was a long shot, you have to admit. A fluke chance, never to be repeated. You’ll have to settle for something bland, safe, loving but…

Nothing like Dieter.

You’re about to get up from the floor when one other idea tempts you. Something you thought he might have said before leaving you ruined.

Pray for this sinner.

Clasping your hands in your lap, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

It’s been a long time since you last prayed.

“Dieter…” you whisper. The fine hairs on your neck rise up, but you press on.

“Dieter, I pray to thee,” you continue, closing your eyes. “Come to me in my hour of need.”

A pause, then a final entreaty. “Please.”

A rumble creeps into your body, tiny puffs of candles snuffing out reaching your ears. You dare not open your eyes yet, too hopeful for disappointment. Instead you wait, and hope.

A hot hand, thick fingered and human, slides up your chest, over your throat and cups your chin. Relief floods your body, melting back against a solid chest and chuckling lips.

“Hello, starlet,” Dieter croons in your ear, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers search for curls, burying in his hair as you lace your fingers with his.

“You came,” you breathe, sparks igniting on your skin as he presses a line of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

“How could I not, when you prayed so sweetly?” he teases, tugging you back to sit in the cradle of his crossed legs. “Smart of you to try the circle, but outside of all hallow’s eve you don’t have access to enough power for that trick.”

“But you came,” you repeat, turning your face into Dieter’s ministrations. He nips at the side of your jaw, soothing it with his lips before murmuring a confession into your skin.

“I hoped you would call again.”

A thick emotion swells in your chest, and you spin in his grasp to crash your mouths together. The momentum knocks him backwards to the floor, letting you straddle his waist and feast on his ample lips. His hands roam your back, reverent in their paths. When you break to suck in lungfuls of sweet air he leans up to mouth at your neck, possessive hand on your ass urging you to grind against him.

“Have you let anyone else fuck you?” he growls. To your delight the anxiety and trepidation that colored your first encounter is nowhere in sight. You smile wolfishly down at him.

“How could I? You’ve ruined me for any man,” you tease, and under your body he writhes, the whites of his eyes trading for inky black. “Plus, one time is hardly enough to know if I even like sex. I’ve barely begun to explore.”

The fangs flash between his kiss-swollen lips, and under the promise of any delight you desire you glimpse the even more exciting fondness that will draw you back to him again and again.

“Then we have a lot of work to do.”

END

Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through

The Arctic Monkeys, "Do I Wanna Know?"

#dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #incubus!Dieter #virgin reader #prolix fics

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paladinbaby · 6 months

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first rule of holes: keep digging

poem of the end, marina tsvetaeva / have you been long enough at the table, leslie sainz / @inneskeeper / the charismatic church asks me how i have sinned, janelle tan / blud, rachel mckibbens / leslie feinberg / @aforlorngazeintoyesterday / nonbeliever, lucy dacus / the cow, ariana reines / the wee free men, terry pratchett

[Image Description: Ten images of text on white backgrounds.

1: “Either love is / -A shrine? / or else a scar.” Or else a scar is highlighted in a pale yellow colour.

2: “can you stomach it? / Anyway, you eat it. You eat it anyway.”

3: “ Oh sunk cost fallacy, we’re really in it now. We are in fact so really in it that if we quit now then everything we did would have all been for nothing and so we have to keep going in”

4: “let me fail myself. let me call / love an unanswered prayer. let me be / the very tip of the knife / that touches grace.”

5: “Obedience in the wrong house is a kind of plague,

survivor’s guilt a slight of hand. No outrunning / your blood’s calamity, so you gather your teeth

& dig your trenches, tell your stories but never come clean.”

6: “Did I survive? I guess I did. But only because I knew I might get home to you.” The whole line is written in italics.

7: “doomed by the narrative but not to death. doomed to survive. doomed to stay alive inside the story. doomed to never escape the narrative, not even through death. you are allowed no exit. there is no way out for you and never was. you couldn’t die if you wanted to. the narrative has a hold on you and it won’t let go. death is too sweet a doom for you. the story has something much worse in mind. there is no way out.”

8: “You deal an unspoken debt / No kindness without wanting something back / What do I owe you? What did I forget? / Are we even after all of that?”

9: “There is no sacrifice. You have got to want to live. You have got to force yourself to want to.”

10: “All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

I have a duty!” End ID.]

#litstack #web weaving #terry pratchett #lucy dacus #personal #c: lost township #onion

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lxkeee · 3 months

Text

FLY ME TO THE MOON: THE SEVEN VIRTUES OF GOD

Notes: just some information about the seven virtues.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Rankings:

The seven virtues consist of seven angels from different triads.

The archangels are Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael/Reader, the virtues of justice, faith, and kindness.

The only dominion angel is Uriel, the virtue of wisdom.

The only seraphim angel is Jophiel, the virtue of beauty.

The only throne angel is Camuel, the virtue of courage.

The only power angel is Azrael, the angel of death.

Most would think the seraphim angels are the most powerful but it's actually the seven virtues who are the most powerful. Strength and power the seven virtues are better as they are in the front lines.

The seraphim angels listen to them.

The seven virtues stayed most of their time on earth, working their separate duties. They watched over the mortals.

Each virtue watches one continent of earth but they do take turns in each continent.

Each virtue has its own personal mansion in heaven.

Personality Dynamics:

The seven virtues think of each other like siblings or best friends at most.

Michael, obviously the older and the leader. Cares for the other six like an older brother does. Cold, serious and takes his role very seriously.

Gabriel, the second oldest. She's like a big sister. Quite a tease too.

Raphael, the third oldest. An introvert, doesn't know how to show affections. She used to but she's currently suffering depression and therefore has trouble understanding her emotions lately but she cares. Very cold and serious when in work mode but awkward and chill during their day off.

Uriel, the same age as Raphael. Very smart, often speaks like a poet or a crackhead and there's no in-between. Total sweetheart and always ready to help. Serious when doing his job.

Jophiel, the same age as Raphael. A flirt, likes teasing others and especially the other virtues. Hides away from responsibilities if he has the chance. If he can't then he would take his job very seriously.

Camuel, the same age as Raphael. Despite being the virtue of courage, he gets scared very easily. Strong though, so he can fight. Got along with the other virtues.

Azrael, the same age as Raphael. A very playful, mischievous, flirty, serious angel. He tends to make fun of others but knows when not to cross the lines. A little sadistic. Always have a smirk on his face, very condescending when in work mode.

The seven virtues both have work and relax mode. When working they are downright terrifyingly serious. But when they don't have any work then they are quite chill.

Michael barely gets any sleep. Functions with coffee 24/7.

Raphael barely has any motivation to do anything.

All seven virtues have sass in their tongues.

Uriel does dad jokes or corny jokes.

Jophiel the victim to listen to those jokes.

All seven of them are tired as fuck, very overworked lmao.

Michael and Azrael often argue cuz the reaper teases Michael. Tend to end up in a fight.

Gabriel tries to break it off and accidentally gets included in the fight.

Camuel the one who actually breaks it off.

Raphael is just there, already used to it.

Jophiel and Uriel watching the fight while eating popcorn, making bets.

Work:

Michael watches over the fairness and equality of earth. Keeping track of mortals' deeds.

Gabriel watches over the faiths of humans, offering guidance to mortals. She's the one who sends mortals' prayers to god.

Raphael watches over the sick and healthy. Providing health to the people who needed it.

Uriel watches over the people and keeps track of the progress made by humans.

Jophiel watches over nature and the non humans, making sure equality is present in all of god's creation.

Camuel watches over the people, providing protection.

Azrael the reaper of souls, guides souls to their destination in the afterlife. Updates the book of life that St. Peter uses so he'll know if there's a new soul that would arrive in heaven.

Day Off Dynamics:

Stays in heaven to recharge.

Often have sleepovers.

Gets very chaotic as they often have nights where they go out for drinks.

Game nights are nights of betrayal.

Michael sucks at uno.

Azrael kept on winning.

Loser does the winner's paperworks.

Gossips. Lots of gossips.

Whether it's heavenly tea or mortal ones.

Michael to Azrael during uno: “Right hand on the bible, god can strike me down if I'm lying. The mf is cheating!”

Yes, they swear.

Only when it's just the seven of them in the room.

Probably hibernates for two whole days.

Other fun facts:

Azrael has two floating or flying eye pets, he can use it to eavesdrop in heaven when he's on earth. It serves as his second pair of eyes. He's always watching.

Michael wields a sword.

Gabriel uses a book as she's more of a mage type of angel.

Raphael uses a sword.

Uriel uses a sword.

Jophiel uses a book to conjure spells.

Camuel uses a bow and arrow.

Azrael uses a staff that transforms into a scythe.

Jophiel accidentally turned himself a frog once and had to attend a virtues meeting in frog form. The others never let him forget.

Uriel drinks more wine than water.

The only girls in the seven virtues are Gabriel and Raphael.

[Y/n] is often rolled into a burrito by the others if she's depressed.

#hazbin hotel #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer morningstar x reader

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suiana · 1 year

Text

✎ yandere! writer headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― delusional yandere, obsessiveness etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! writer who made you his greatest creation. you were exactly everything he wanted, everything he needed. you're his beloved little main character, the love of his life.

✎ yandere! writer who didn't know when the lines between adoration and obsession mixed. he used to see you as just his character, now he wants nothing more than to keep you by his side.

✎ yandere! writer who cries himself to sleep every night, knowing you'll always simply just be a character he created, never real to anyone but himself. why couldn't you be real?!

✎ yandere! writer who is taken aback when you're standing in the middle of his bedroom one morning. eh? did he... did he drink too much last night? why are you standing in his room? you're so warm though... so soft, so beautiful- and he got slapped by you! so you were real! his prayers were answered!

✎ yandere! writer who deludes himself into thinking you came for him, that you loved him just like he loved you. so he keeps you in his house, never allowing you to leave despite your protests.

✎ yandere! writer who eventually caves and allows you to go out, he has to come with you though. you complain and nag him, you came to this world to save it from a disaster! not to be locked away like some damsel in distress! your writer thinks otherwise though. even though he wrote you to be badass and for your novel to be action based.

✎ yandere! writer who prevents you from helping that train passenger who got shot by a tall and handsome cat human hybrid. oh... so it looks like you weren't the only creation that came to life. it looks like everything jumped out of the books... welp! time to head back home where the both of you will be safe! and just like that, bam, you got knocked out and he dragged you to his home where you'll stay forever.

✎ yandere! writer who locks you in his room, never allowing you to leave while an apocalypse goes on outside. you can't even escape, this man knows all of your weaknesses! he's your creator after all. all you can do is hope that some god takes pity on you and curses your creator to fall out of love with you. but I doubt that'll be happening anytime soon, your creator is the writer of this book too after all.

✎ "y/n! you can't go out! you'll die! you can't die! writing your first death in chapter 7 already made me more than traumatized! so just... just stay with me here, we'll be safe. I promise."

#yandere #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere blog #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere writer #yandere writer x reader #yandere x reader headcanons #yandere writer headcanons

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trashmouth-richie · 11 months

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CONFESSION

eddie x fem! reader

TW: no minors, heavy degrading themes of the Catholic Church, smut, corruption kink, virginity loss, Eddie posing as a priest. Slight daddy kink, rosaries not used properly. Umm yeah it’s smut p in v, cum eating. Etc

a/n: I have no words, I’ll see you in the crimsoned room of hell, or purgatory— in that case, please pray me out.

Trudging with untied boots the thud of his clunky soles echo loud in the steeped ceiling of St. Mary’s. He stubs the lit end of his joint out in the holy water, sizzling and emitting one last pathetic puff of smoke. Dipping a tattooed middle finger into the holy water he makes a lame excuse for the sign of the cross, flicking whatever remnants of moisture left into the open air. Keeping his middle finger high for the man on the cross.

Every Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday nights at 7 o'clock on the dot, he had come to the brick built and heavily waxed wooden floored church to repent.

Father Hopper had gone easy on Eddie when he found him trying to hot wire his car. Punishing him to thirty confessions stretched over two months time.

Father knew Wayne Munson was on the verge of a thin line of patience, and Eddie was on his last strike with Hawkins PD, next step was prison. A shared cell with the other Munson and ex resident of Hawkins currently known as inmate #89432.

Fuck it, I’ll go to jail what the hell do I care? Eddie spat at the rickety table in Father Hopper’s poorly lit kitchen.

“Son,” Father began, sipping a bitter cup of coffee, thumb nails scratching against the ceramic mug, “you don’t want to end up like him.”

“Well. I sure as hell ain’t gonna end up like you. White robes and that cardboard dog collar you wear— yeah fuckin’ right.”

That was back in May. What started as a desperate plea to steal a car and possibly sell it to get enough money to skip the prying eyes and whispering licks of gossip tongues about how he hadn’t graduated, again, — ended with him getting assigned the confessions.

A stuffy little closet with Hopper’s coffee breath stenching through a grated screen. The dark walls seems to close in on him as he confessed to petty crimes and sex on Sundays.

Leaning against the desk that held glass orbs of candles, he spits in the nearest one. The flame sizzling out. And that’s when he hears it.

A small giggle from the pew nearest him.

He had seen you around school. Clutching your school books to your chest as you were shoved into walls and lockers. A ghost among the popular chicks and dicks. But never to him.

He himself was an outcast and truth be told he didn’t remember the time he hawked a lougie into Jason’s milk carton and stubbed a cigarette into his hamburger after Jason had purposefully knocked your lunch tray out of your hands. The cheap plastic tray hitting the tiled floor with a clank.

He might remember but you remembered the way his smile pearled big and pretty, his long lashes dusting the tops of his cheeks as he winked your way, and the way your panties clung with wetness at your heated lips.

His whiskey dark eyes bore into your head as he says your name slow, like reciting a prayer. His long legs swing as he struts cockily towards you. Middle of the summer and he’d shed his leather armor. Red flannel open revealing a tanned tattooed chest. Sleeves cut off showcasing muscly trailer park strong arms. Jeans hacked off above the knee.

His smirk danced across his lips, tongue poking out to wet his lips. He had trouble written all over him. And damn did he wear it well.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to confess the sins committed against our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?”

Your legs cross and thighs rub together. A pulse awakening between your legs.

“Amen,” you giggle nervously, hiding behind heated cheeks.

Leaning his long frame against the edge of the pew, he throws a worn heavy boot over onto the seat, next to your clenched thighs under the white sundress.

He leans down, over his knee, his long curls dancing with his gesturing head, he’s leaning close and you can see the reds fading his eyes and the skunked smell of weed. Still that smile has you melting.

“So what are you in for? Forget to genuflect before sitting down last Sunday?”

His joke earns a smile from you and seeing your lips pull your cheeks up has him twitching in his jeans.

“No,” you roll your eyes in a girlish way, batting your lashes, “it’s not that.”

“Ah!” Eddie says jumping up, “no bother, I don’t think Father Hopper isn’t gonna show anyway.”

You don’t mean to frown and Eddie almost laughs out loud at your pout.

Strict as your parents were, they were demanding that you needed to confess for your sins. They were already pissed you skipped out on college, might as well take 10 years off school, you’ll never go, they hated your job, hated even more that you didn’t really have friends outside of the “weird Buckley girl.”

By the end of this month you’d have enough money saved up to move out, and oh how you couldn’t wait.

The dirty word slips before you catch it. Hands covering your mouth quickly, the heat on your cheeks burning deeper. You peer at Eddie with big eyes.

He cracks a slow smile and leans forward. Licking his chapped lips again. He’s so close to you you can see every eyelash in high definition.

“That’s another sin, one more and the floor will open and we’ll both be engulfed into the fiery pits of hell.”

“Actually I think it’s purgat—”

A ringed finger is placed vertically to your lips, shushing you from finishing. The satin feel of your lips on his rugged finger makes him ache against the teeth of his zipper.

Tracing your face with his eyes they dip down the slope of your nose and past the curve of your lips, the delicate pink rosary is hung on your neck with such daintiness it’s almost in open invitation.

He about chokes when the goosebumps rise on your throat from his stare, a bead of sweat trickling in between your tits.

Dark eyes swim into yours, and his smile is impish, full of wicked delight, “Let’s go.”

His hand snakes down your shoulder and he grabs your wrist in a light but thick grip. Beckoning you with a sinful smirk.

“To where?” You manage after peeling your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

“Time to confess for that dirty mouth.” Eddie says matter of fact, turning his head and dragging you to the confessional booth. “C’mon I’ll act as Father.”

Eddie pulls you into the small wooden door in the back of the church opening it for you in a gentlemanly manner ending in a bow.

He rushes you in with snapping fingers and a growl making you squeal.

Sitting behind the screen where Hopper usually sat Eddie beckons you to sit in his usual assigned seat.

He makes a backwards sign of the cross with his left hand and folds his fingers, clearly his throat and using a deep baritone voice, “tell me your sins, sweet girl.”

When you giggle, Eddie flicks the screen, “this is serious shit— confess to me.”

You begin the way your parents had you rehearse at home.

“Bless me Father— wait, should I call you that?”

“Daddy works best,” Eddie says without missing a beat. And your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Bless me,” you hesitate on the word, but Eddie raises his eyebrows to encourage you so you start again, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

“B- Bless me, Daddy, for I have sinned, my last confession was 10 weeks ago.”

“That’s a long time ago,” he tsks, berating you, “have you not sinned in these last 10 weeks?”

Fingers threading the hem of your dress you answer, “I- I have.”

Eddie palms himself at your innocence. “Well?”

“I— Eddie—”

“Excuse me? My title in this confessional is Daddy please do not make me correct you again,”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” Eddie purrs. Sending shocks to your clit. “Continue.”

Clearing your throat you stroke the beads of the rosary hung against your neck. Counting ten, a small skip, another bead, then ten more.

“I was.. experimenting.”

“Drugs?” Eddie asks, chuckling in genuine shock, he didn’t think a girl like you would smoke, “yes the devils lettuce is tempting.”

He flicks his lighter open and lights another joint he had tucked in his pocket for the ride home.

“But we must stop these temptations before they start, plus who are you buying from because I need to know if I have competition.”

You move your head to the side and continue thumbing the pink pearly beads in your fingers. The clack of your nails against the beads fill the quiet smoke hung room.

“No… it wasn’t drugs.”

Eddie’s mind flips like a magazine.

“Oh yes the alcohol, another temp—”

“Wrong again.”

Eddie’s frustration peaks, “well I’m not a fucking mind reader so do you wanna explain yourself?”

“I— I was.. I was touching myself.”

“Oh fuckin, Christ..” it’s mumbled and breathy but you hear it all the same, sending a slick to your pussy from your admission and Eddie’s shock.

He’s rock hard. The zipper on his jeans scream, begging for any sort of release. He needs to know more.

“Do explain,” he says intrigued, leaning forward, his hands folded under his chin.

Adjusting yourself in the wooden chair you cross your legs, and Eddie barely witnesses the white cotton snug between your thighs, the sneak peek having him swallow hard.

Taking a breath you go into detail about the videotape you had gotten from the adult section of Family Video. How you had only watched it once and the volume was muted, but you couldn’t get it out of your mind.

The way the woman’s mouth curved into an “O” when the man was pleasuring her. The size of the man’s penis and the way it slapped against his stomach when released from his jeans. How the woman’s perked nipples were firm but looked soft against the man’s tongue.

Eddie’s drool is wiped from his mouth at your explicit confession, and he starts to palm himself over his jeans when you explain how you had started rubbing yourself over your underwear at night.

Thinking you were about to have your first ever orgasm but weren’t able to finish because your mother had walked in on you, legs spread wide on your comforter, toes curling. As you were using the barrel of a curling iron to rub at your clothed clit.

The embarrassment from repeating the story to Eddie made your cheeks heat, and you hid behind your hair.

The silence is speaking volumes. The only noise is the cream of the wooden seat as you shift again, a flutter in your stomach as Eddie thinks of his punishment for you.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, a hiss on his tongue as he moves from behind the screen, wedging himself between you and the wall, his long frame leaning against the mahogany.

Ringed fingers tapping along the plump of his lips, his hard cock outlined through his jeans, “You are a filthy, naughty girl.”

You scoff, “I am not!”

“Oh baby, you are,” Eddie says, boxing you in, “but, I know just the thing to…cleanse you of your sins.” He licks his lips again and stares you down. And you're certain you're looking into Satan’s eyes.

“Wh—” you stutter, having to clear your throat, swallowing thickly and dabbing at the sweat on your neck, “what do you have in mind?”

Eddie’s wayward curls skim the top of your chest as his lips curve around the shell of your ear, he smells like cigarettes and laundry soap, “bad girls get spanked.”

Gasping, he laughs at your shocked face. “I don’t make the rules babe, ok I made that one up, but this is for you swearing in the house of the Lord, now,” he gestures a thumb over his shoulder, “get up, you’re gonna need to be on my lap.”

You do as you're told, standing chest to chest with Eddie. Only this time it’s you licking your lips. One stretch up on tipped toes and your lips could connect with his. The faint mark of a nicotine stain paints his bottom lip. You wonder if it would taste like it.

He grabs your hips and swivels you around, his rings dig into the soft cotton on your dress, his nails scratching the fabric as he takes his seat. The wooden chair groaning on the sudden weight.

Leaning back in the chair he smiles wickedly, legs spread wide, he rubs his lap, tapping for you to come closer.

When your body is laid flat against him, you pull at the hem of your skirt to keep your modesty.

“This punishment is just for the dirty words,” Eddie explains. His ringed fingers walk along your spine, trailing down your back and up the fat of your ass.

He lays a warm hand on your cheeks and rubs it gently. Squeezing every so often.

Eddie's cock is hard under your ribs and your pussy flutters at the size of him. He hums and jiggles your ass before explaining his rules for your indiscretion, “you are going to recite The Lord’s Prayer while I spank you. Understand?”

You nod dumbly and whimper when his left hand tickles up your thighs.

“Start.” He grunts.

You begin the Lord's Prayer just like you were taught, standing before joyful cheeked families in a similar white dress on your First Communion day.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be th—”

A large hand comes down hard with a thwap! on your ass cheek, sending you forward and hitting your head on the wall.

“Oh,” Eddie whispers, not hiding the smile in his voice, “if you mess up— we start over. So don’t. Unless this naughty girl enjoys being spanked by daddy? Hmm?”

You nod again and continue. Trying hard to remember where you were. Hallowed be…

“.. Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done. On Eart—”

Two hands smack your ass at once like sticks beating a drum. The hem of your skirt is lifted past the sheer white panties you are wearing. Reaching for the end of your dress to pull it down Eddie grabs your wrist, putting your hand back where it belongs he issued another spanking.

This time he lifts your dress fully and groans at the sight in front of him. Your plump ass has all but swallowed the see thru fabric of your panties. Eddie sucks a breath in through his teeth and places his left hand in the thick of your thighs, warmed by the heat of your arousal, his thumb rubbing small circles.

Thy Kingdom… shit.

“Thy Kingdom c—” the hardest slap yet has rained down on your nearly bare skin, and it springs tears from your eyes.

Eddie smooths over the red mark left on your skin and his tone is irate when he spits, “you already said that sweetheart, start again.”

His fingers snake further up your legs and he groans at the feel of your soaked panties on his fingertips.

You start again. And the spankings Eddie delivers are swift and merciless. The harder he spanks the more you cry out.

Sweat pools between your thighs where Eddie’s hot hand is wedged, his thumb teasing the outline of your panties and pressing soft circles into the fabric.

Tears cling to your eyelashes as your punishment comes to an end, welts forming where his rings stung and clipped you.

Words of reassurance fall from his lips after every slap and harsh whack of his hands. When Eddie leans over to catch a rogue tear from your cheek before it hits the carpet, your thighs slam together tight with a snap.

The groan he lets out is guttural and low. His cock twitches underneath you again.

“..and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil Am—- ow!”

Quick, hot tears sting your eyes. A jerk of your head reveals a sight you would never imagine seeing… let alone in a church.

Pearly, and oddly straight. The calcified and slightly sharp teeth pull out from the red, irritated skin on your ass.

“If you want to repent for your sins, you need to put your trust in me, can you do that baby… hmm? Can you listen and give yourself to me? It’s the only way you’ll be forgiven.”

A perfect dental record sunken in deep, small droplets of blood weep from the pierced flesh from his canines.

His lips are pulled back in a snarl, dark eyes gleam with a feral intensity so ferocious you’re instantly terrified. He looks like a wolf fighting for a meal.

Paralyzed with fear, your lungs spasm in shock as he flicks out his tongue, running the wet tip of the muscle along the pattern of his teeth grooved into your skin.

Each pass of his slicked tongue deepens the arousal in your lower stomach. His lips curve around the mark, kissing it better, his hooded eyes never leave yours.

You moan when the purpling bruise he’s sucking into your skin is greeted with the same poked teeth that bit you earlier.

His thick middle finger had your panties pulled to the side and your arousal is coated thick on his finger as he pushes past your puffy lips. A blunt fingernail sharp against your inner walls.

“Fuck,” he groans, dipping his finger into the impossibly tight well of your sweet pussy.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you mimic his moans and bite into your cheek. Hungry for the look of a broken gasp as your walls flutter and tighten around him.

World spinning and head rushing, Eddie has you upright and straddling his waist. when you start to question him he shushes you.

Taking the same finger he had plunged into your molten slicked pussy, he rubs the pad of it around your lips. Like a tube of chapstick during a cold winter, he coats them again and again, licking his own, his other hand is tight on your knee and gently skirting closer to your hip under your dress.

When he's satisfied with his art on your plump lips, he finally dives in, his breath hot on your skin and you part your mouth in a welcome for him.

But he only laughs.

A throaty chuckle that mocks you, as you wait for him to kiss you, wait for him to press his pinked lips to yours. Waiting for his tongue to devilishly lap at the corner of your mouth.

But all of his attention is zeroing down on the rosary around your neck.

Each bead is slick with sweat, warm to the touch against his thumb, as he counts them in his head, your throat gasping on each inhale. Whimpering and moving your hips against him.

Grabbing the rosary in his fist he pulls you closer to him, biting the fleshy lobe around the small gold hoops in your ears, his dick aches when you whine his name.

Huffed whispers tickle your ear and send shivers down your spine and flood your panties, “Such a dirty fucking girl, practically begging for me to fuck you.”

Another whine from your mouth and he’s bucking his hips into you, strained denim against wet lace.

“Is that what you want?” Eddie demands. His snake-like tongue tickling behind your ear, “all you have to do, is ask.”

“Please,” you beg, fingers curling into the flannel of his shirt, head thrown back as he circles your neck and paints hickies with his tongue.

“Not good enough, baby. Tell me how bad you want this little virgin hole filled.”

His hand finds it way under your skirt to the desperate slick of your panties, his fingers sliding around and making slow figure eights against your clit.

Tits bouncing as you move against his hand, hopelessly with no words you beg him with your body to give you relief. You whine again embarrassed to ask for what you craved, the sin that brought you here to begin with.

When you don’t say anything he retreats his hand. And you try to chase it as it slips away, you whimper pitifully again, and finally succumb to his demands.

All embarrassment gone as you beg him, plead for his cock, “Eddie, please.. please.. I’ve been so good,” you oughta be ashamed of yourself but you couldn’t care less— if he could make you feel this good by barely touching you, you’d be on your way to that glorified “O” in no time, and you can practically hear the Hallelujah chorus.

He chuckled cockily at your pleas, but shushes you as he unthreads his belt, and almost chokes when you gasp in awe at his thick veiny cock, slapping up to his belly with a thump and the pearling bead of cum seeping from the slit.

His thick ringed hand pumps himself as he lines himself up with your swollen pussy. And when you sink down he slams himself home and you clench around him, a scream escaping your slack mouth.

He groans low, trying to even out his breathing around your pretty gasps and breathy moans.

“You’re gonna keep my cock warm before I fuck you like the slut you wanna be for me,” he chides, concentrating hard on on anything other than the tight walls of your pussy gripping him. “This is the rest of your punishment… you pray a Hail Mary and warm my cock, no whining, no moaning.”

You whimper as his cock stretches you out, practically biting a hole in your bottom lip as you taste yourself from where he painted them with your own arousal earlier.

A loud slap to your ass and you’re jolting forward, your rosary tight in Eddie’s fist as he brings you down to his lips, “start praying or I’ll go home.”

“Hail Mary,” you begin, the same way you started before, only this time the pressure was never lifted, your pussy full of him, and his tongue hot and feverish on your neck, teeth grazing your skin ever so lightly.

He’s teasing you and trying to get you to break, he thumbs over your nipples until they’re peaked and sore in his pinched grip.

When you get halfway through the sacred prayer, your pussy aches and drips down to his balls. His tongue is lazily working a red and purple ‘E’ into the fat of your tit, one hand still holding the rosary tight against your neck.

You’re on the verge of breaking when you suck him in deeper, pushing your walls around him and kegeling him in a death trap. He mins and curses the lord’s name, and he finally snaps.

Bangs slicked with sweat and stuck heavy against forehead, he grunts, “Holy Mary Mother of God.” And you’re hiked upwards.

The screen you confessed your sins to with Eddie on the other side only a half hour ago, is now pressed tight against your ass as Eddie hammers his cock into your slicked and aching pussy.

The moan you elicit is toe curling, borderlining pornographic as the thick head of his clock slams into a spot you were unaware of reaching again and again.

“Pray for us sinners… fuck this pussy is so tight… now and at the hour of our death,” Eddie whimpers into your shoulder before biting down hard.

And when you yell out an amen your fluttering gummy walls spasm with joyful relief. Coating you and Eddie both with hot arousal as it seeps from you.

And the lips you’ve been staring at all night finally touch yours.

A bruisingly, sore puncture of lust filled kisses that would have your lips resembling a baboon’s ass for days.

He’s babbling now as your feet are wrapped right around his waist, his hands wiggling into his curls and yanking harder sends him over the edge.

He drops you onto your knees and opens your mouth with a press of his thumb on your bottom lip, when your tongue is out, and waiting for his cum, he jerks his cock once more and shudders when the hot ropes leave him and drip on your tongue and lips.

“Body of Christ,” Eddie says with a smirk, shutting your mouth for you and watching you swallow his load. He expects you to gag, possibly spit it out at him like the other girls would.

But when you lick your lips and utter a seductive, “Amen.” Eddie knows he’d never get out of confession for the rest of his life.

😅hmmm yeah ily there will be a part 2

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie smut #corruption kink!#daddy!eddie munson

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guardkeywolf · 1 year

Note

Okay hear me out! 7 foot tall reader that's like usually an airhead but then becomes an absolute monster on the field(or just fighting/sparring) with König? Reader's german and speaks it to curse at other people and to express frustration

König X German!Male Reader

Hello Anon!

I'm SO SO SO SORRY FOR TAKING ON LONG WITH THIS REQUEST BUT ITS HERE NOW!

So I hope you like it!

Also I want to give a special thanks to @itsagrimm for the German translations!

So please enjoy!

When Y/n joined the 141, it was easy for most to be intimidated by the man.

Laswell had sent them a German that stood with a bolstering 7 foot vertical, stealth that should be considered illegal, eyes that just pierced fear into the hearts of their enemies, and in the field, a goddamn beast that craved the bloodlust of those that weren't his teammates: who could blame them for feeling such a way?

Even König, a man who was a giant himself that stood at 6'10, was even in awe by Y/n's mere size over him.

When König had first heard Y/n was German and would be joining the 141, he couldn't help but be overjoyed to meet the man. By the time your helo landed, the man could barely contain his excitement to meet you. As you got out and grabbed your bags, from a distance you didn't look like much to König until you finally came face to chest with the man.

It was the first time König actually had to look up to another man rather than looking down. The Austrian felt the mans cold (e/c) eyes hover over his figure slowly, a predator that towered over his prey. König shook off the unsettling feeling before extending a hand to Y/n to greet him.

"Guten Tag, mein Name ist König." - Good day, my name is König.

Y/n stayed silent for a while until letting out a small giggle and extending out his hand to shake König's.

"Hallo, ich bin, Y/n." - Hello, I'm xyz./ you can call me Y/n.

König couldn't help but smile underneath his sniper mask as he began to show the man around the base.

Slowly but surely, the two would even up being around each other 24/7 no matter where it was.

On the field, in the base, in each other's rooms, just in close proximity to each other. Then feelings began to transpire and soon enough, the two became a couple.

As König spent more time with the man, he noticed the change in his body language as well.

While Y/n became a monster taking out enemies sometimes with your bare hands, at the base, he were a complete airhead.

Well, a complete airhead that König had loved with all his heart.

At times, Y/n couldn't help but make König laugh at some of the things he managed to do. He got lost in the base one time just trying to find König's room, and this was after one of the recruits gave him the same directions FOUR TIMES.

When Y/n got to König's room, the Austrian asked why he was so late and Y/n explained in great detail and blamed the walls for all looking the exact same.

While he was sometimes clueless then, when he and König sparred against each other or recruits, it was a different story.

"Komm schon, Y/n!" - "Come on Y/n!" König bellow as he dodged Y/n's swift punches.

König should have evaluated the man more because he was on his ass in seconds, not that he didn't mind it but still...

König looked up at Y/n in shock as the man extended a hand to him to lift him off his ass.

Y/n didn't say anything expect getting ready for another round and König joined him.

Well that was the case until a random recurit managed to kill the lovely vibe the two were having.

"L-Lieutenant Y/n?" The man stuttered nervously.

He must have been new because everyone in the 141 base knew to never, EVER, interrupt the Lieutenant's training session, especially when it was with König. He valued their time together immensely, and considering their line of work, König couldn't blame his lover.

He prayed that Y/n would tone it down slightly and thankfully his prayers were answered when Y/n turned the man.

He sent him a simple death glare before speaking.

"Kannst du nicht sehen, dass ich beschäftigt bin, Kollege? Unterbrich mich noch ein mal und du wirst nicht genug Atem für haben vom Strafrunden laufen." - "Can't you see I'm busy, dude? Interrupt me just once more and you won'T have enough breath for it from running punishment laps."

The man got the message, quickly informing the man before turning to leave.

König was going to consider asking what it was but decided against it.

He sent Y/n a look if he wanted to go again but the German simply shook his head and cocked his head towards the showers with a smirk.

König found himself walking alongside him, smiling underneath his sniper mask again, as he walked with his lover hand in hand.

Please REBLOG with TAGS if you plan on doing so

It helps others navigate your Tumblr page easier

-Guards

#cod modren warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #konig cod #konig cod mw2 #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig #konig x male reader #könig modern warfare #könig cod #könig #könig x male reader #cod x male reader #guards writes

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broomsick · 2 years

Text

Pagan pro-tips

Having been pagan and polytheistic for about 7 years, I can attest to these tips’ efficiency:

Pinterest is your best friend when it comes to devotional art

But don’t ever trust a single line of information on there.

Casually call out or whisper a deity’s name when something makes you think of them, so you can invite them to witness it!

If someone asks too many questions and you don’t feel like “coming-out” as pagan, tell them you’re ~more spiritual than religious~ and they’ll act like they get it.

Write your own prayers who tf cares

Playlists playlists playlists

I’m serious, even the simplest stuff people would label as “aesthetic” works well when you’re on a busy schedule but you want to stay casually connected to your faith.

Sure, paganism is deeply personal, but are there other people you could learn from? People you could help? Listening + sharing = community building!

#quick daytime thoughts #paganism #personal #heathenry #norse paganism #norse gods #deities #deity work #spirituality #witchcraft #polytheism #religion #witchy tips

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sillyblues · 1 year

Text

the ocean and the wind. (7)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: another late update again aaaaa our finals is so near i am shaking sobbing screaming!! as an apology there will be like mini extras after this so stay tuned for that also what the hell this is literally the final part of totw. my first fic and baby is ending. oh my god. i have written so much in this fic compared to my writing club lmao. whats your fave part and line?? i love them all but mine is lowkey part 3 because that's the start of misunderstandings and pain i love it. tell me ur thoughts and dont forget ily all. thank you so much for the huge support for this fic im so grateful to all of you JKSDGDISKJBDS :(((

part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 ✩ part 6

Ronal knew guilt. Guilt introduced itself to her when she made a young boy cry and it never left her side ever since. She also learned helplessness. Helplessness hugged her from behind when she overheard her parents' worries for her, and it never took its arms away ever since. Hopelessness intertwined its own with her fingers when the friends she made after a long time got upset at her and it never took its arms away ever since.

But you came along and gently pried the sticky and murky darkness that eroded her and rendered her incapable of feeling more. You took her out from their figures and suddenly, she met joy. Joy chuckled along with her with your ridiculous banter with Tonowari. Faith introduced itself to her when she found herself talking with you and Tonowari and a couple of other friends. She learned of love from you, a beautiful and gentle breeze of air, and found one with Tonowari.

Then, your sudden disappearance came and the blues came back and turned into raging winds that wanted to sweep her away. But she held on tight to the joy of the memories with you. She held on tight to the faith that you gave her. She held on tight to the love that formed out for and from you.

But, she has never known anger. She never knew about the red that blinds her and the rage that boils within her veins. She never knew about the wrath that forms a hurricane and wants to destroy everything in its path. She never knew about the madness that wakes a typhoon that thirsts for violence and ruin. Not until now when she sees you in tears on the ground in the beach side with some wretched creatures laughing and looking down on you.

How dare you. How dare you.

“What is this?” a voice booms from behind her, low and deep, and Ronal did not need to look behind to see who it was. The girls look at her and Tonowari behind her. They let out grating giggles and she snarls, hissing at the sound.

“I said,” his voice thunders and the loudness attracted the attention of the others as they stopped to look at the situation, but Ronal paid no heed to them. “What is this?”

She did not know what to look at, the girls who dared to make you cry or you who is sobbing so painfully that she herself wants to cry with you. The anguish she holds for you, the pain each drop of your tears increases she feels for you overpower the unfamiliar terrifying storm that makes her want to shout at the short-haired girl that finally stopped their useless giggling. So she hurriedly comes over to you and embraces you in her arms.

“[Name]...”

“No, please let me go…” she feels you struggling, trying to hit and push her away but she knows—desperately hopes—you do not even hold an inch of intention to be away from her as she did when you tried to calm her down when she first met you. She lets you and did not let you go, not even soften her embrace on you just once.

She leaned close to you and perhaps Eywa heard her prayers but she felt relief when you finally understood that she wants to protect and help you this time. But a huge part of her hurts in the way, you cover your face into the crook of her neck and your sobs are muffled against her skin. The wetness of her shoulder brings over a hot air that wants to melt one of the girls who dared to make you cry which she finally recognizes. Letsakx.

“What’s wrong, Tonowari? I was just telling her how you two did not need her anymore,” her thin voice said in a disgusting sickly tone, “How you are to be mated before Eywa soon enough and lead the clan together. Without her.”

She batted her eyelashes at Tonowari like a blind snake that wiggles its body to attract a mate. Disgusting. She looks at Tonowari who clearly has the same thing in his mind. His jaw clenches and his fist tightens, his eyes as still as the calm before the storm.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Tonowari? Aren’t I right?” she condescendingly giggles once more, “Don’t be shy, tell her the truth. She’s just a plaything you’ve gotten tired of when Ronal entered your life—”

Ronal snarls at her. “Shut your mouth! You do not know anything! How dare you run off your useless mouth with such lies!”

“Or what? What would you do?” the vile wench scoffed at her, “Besides, everyone knows, everyone knows Tonowari wants to mate with you. Not poor little useless [Name] who has been with him for so long and still couldn’t have him. I wonder what you have that she, a long-time friend of his, doesn’t? What everyone else doesn’t?”

Amidst her anger, Ronal could care less what she’s insinuating. She could not give a single piece of her mind what interesting choice words she says to insult her. Perhaps, if the past version of Ronal was the one standing as of now, she is sure it would affect her and destroy what little of care she has for herself left. But she is not the old her now. The one in front of her that stands in front of everyone is the Ronal of the present, the one who has changed and will continue to change. So no, whatever slander the unblessed by Eywa herself says about her does not offend her.

But it is entirely a different matter when it is you who she dares to commit such blasphemy and disrespect. It is a different matter when you, Eywa’s blessed child of love and joy, are reduced to sorrow and grief. You, who are full of smiles and everything nice of this world, are reduced to tears and sobs.

Ronal can feel your breath hitch at Letsakx’s words and you go limp in her arms like you had given up on everything. Like you had given up on the love that she and Tonowari have for you but you do not feel. Like you had given up on the way she and Tonowari see you but you do not see.

No. No. Nononono—

“[Name]... no, no, don’t believe anything she says. I see you. He sees you.” Ronal pleads with you as she gently lowers herself and you to the sand. She rocks your body gently and caresses the wet hair that is stuck to your face from your tears. She finally sees your eyes and oh—you’re gone. Your eyes are glossy but they do not shine anymore. You don’t even look at her. You don’t see her. You don’t see them.

“[Name]...” She chokes out a sob and she’s helpless in the storm that harshly scratches her skin. The wind has become blades that tear whatever is left of her heart and dried her blood dry.

“Hahaha! How pathetic! Is it your tears that seduced our future Olo’eyktan? I can’t believe a tramp like you has—”

“Take my mates’ name out of your mouth.” Tonowari’s deep voice permeates the whole island and suddenly everything stops. The murmurs and the hushed whispers of the onlookers, the giggling of the girls who managed to kill her life and love, the whiffs of the winds, the waves of the ocean. It all stops.

Ronal looks at Tonowari who stands in front of the both of them. She can only see his back, his figure towering over the other girls. Letsakx’s arm is held by him, and she could see the fear and confusion creeping onto her and leaving her legs slightly trembling.

“W-What? Let me go—”

“My mate had told you to shut your mouth but you did not, did you?” his grip tightens, his veins becoming more prominent and his muscles tensing, and she struggles as her arm turns purple.

Ronal purses her lips and let her tears fall. Despite the pain in her heart, she feels warm. She feels loved. She feels seen. Tonowari is a blessing and you are her miracle. Really, it hurts how fate won’t let her live peacefully and contented. She silently grieves over the lost future she dreams of with you and him.

“You are our soon-to-be Olo’eyktan! I am one of your people, you cannot do this to me!” She shouts at him but panic can be easily heard from her voice. Tonowari is silent and she takes this as him contemplating her words as she continued as arrogance comes back as she believes her delusions, “You cannot hurt me. You can only serve me as our Olo’eyktan.”

“And as your future Olo’eyktan, you should have known better than to insult my chosen mates,” his voice is thick, full of calm yet venomous wrath that threatens to break the weak constraints of his patience, “and to insult my mates is to insult me.”

He pushes her away with force to her group of friends and did not care that she fell. She starts to sob and Ronal can only grit her teeth. Forgiveness was a lesson she had to learn by herself. She learned to forgive the parents of the boy who hated her and humiliated her without them asking to. She learned to forgive her friends who blamed her for something she never really intended to make them feel without asking to. She learned to forgive herself for the faults she committed and learned how to grow stronger and mature.

But she does not think she can forgive Letsakx for what she has done. To you. To Tonowari. To herself.

“This is a warning to each and every one of you. Touch them again, hurt them again, and I will not hesitate to show you what your soon Olo’eyktan’s wrath is.” He glowers at them and the people kneel at him. They bow their heads showing their alliance to their leader.

Ronal looks at you once more and finds you looking at the setting sun on the ocean. The golden rays glisten so beautifully on your skin. The wind sways your hair, it whispers out to you, and the waves try their hardest to reach out to you and call out your name.

He comes back to both of you. She looks at him and tells him with her eyes to take her and you away from this mess. Tears slip out and he sends her a smile that hides the same pain she feels, but she sees through him. She sees him. She sees you close your eyes.

Tonowari carries the both of you in each of his arms and into the inner island where no one would come to disturb nor dare to hurt each of you again.

“Take my mates’ name out of your mouth.” Tonowari’s words still ring through your head over and over again. Mates? The sinful part of you, the greedy little thing desperately hopes what he said is true. That he considered you to be truly his mate. But you know better. You learned better. Tonowari is a kind man. Very, very kind that he would put anybody else first before himself. He is putting you first despite what anyone will say to him because he is kind.

Ronal’s warmth encases you and the green monster wishes to be buried hidden beneath her loving embrace. But you know better. You learned better. She is a thoughtful woman. She cares about others first, most of the time overlooking what she thinks and feels. She cares for you first despite what anyone will say to her because she is thoughtful.

They only protected you back then because they are kind and they care for you. Because you are their friend. And as a friend, you should thank them for defending you and offer your congratulations for their bonding.

But you can’t open your mouth. The words are stuck in your throat, it encloses and constricts what you want to say and you find yourself feeling so stupid and pathetic all over again.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it now,” Tonowari says suddenly. He carried you and Ronal into the inner parts of the island. The creek where you first met Ronal. The creek where you witnessed the love they had for each other and left none for you. He placed you both on the grass nearby the streaming water and sat close to you. “Please.”

“Please see us,” Ronal takes your hands and you look at her.

“I do.”

“But you don’t.” Tonowari leans his forehead against your temple as he pleads with you. You frown. How could he say that? How could he? You try to withdraw your hands and you leaned back away from him. They look at you with so much hurt in their eyes but they still don’t let go of you. It pains you to see them like this but you swallowed it down.

“I don’t? What do you mean? I see you two. Eywa knows how much I look at you and how much it hurts me. She knows how I desperately beg for her forgiveness because I shouldn’t be hurting. I should be happy for both of you, you two who are so in love with each other. I should be happy for both of you because I am your friend!” like the creek that trickles continuously nearby you, your tears flow down endlessly, “But I’m not. Seeing you two hurts me.”

You tilt your head and close your eyes. It’s odd. You don’t even dare to say what you feel out loud to yourself, much less even think about telling them both. But you did. The suffocating and heavy weight that kills you inside is finally out in the open. You scoff inwardly. You guess it won’t be too long till they would shun you out for daring to disturb their love.

You were alright with being just their friend. You accepted and settled just for that so that you wouldn’t ruin anything. Why… Why did you have to push me like this?

“Do you love us?” Ronal’s trembling voice made you open your eyes. You look at her, with your hands in her tight grip, not leaving you any chance to turn them away. You take in her beauty which made it irresistible for you to say the truth.

“Yes. I love you two so much.” You breathe out.

“Tell us how much you want us. Let us understand you. Let us see you.” She crawls towards you until you back away. But you can only move so much until your back hits Tonowari’s chest. She sits so close to you, only a breath away from each other. His arms snake around your waist and you feel your breath hitch. Like a captivated Na’vi who fell victim to the storm that brew in their eyes, you let the wind and the ocean drift you away.

“I want you. I want you two so bad it hurts. You are my source of greed. My selfishness.” Your hand is placed on Ronal’s cheek by herself and you caress it. Her eyes look at you with so much wonder and love. They are so full of life and you find yourself looking at your reflection in them. “You are my prayers to Eywa.”

Tonowari rubs his head against yours and he kisses the temple of your forehead and it takes all of you to not melt underneath his warmth.

“But you two are made for each other. Tonowari, you are mighty and strong like the ocean. You have what it takes to be our Olo’eyktan. Ronal, you are as gentle but as powerful as the wind. You have what it takes to Tsahik. You even proved it once more a while ago, you can make quite the storm together,” you lightly chuckle with a sense of pride and bitterness.

“But between the two of you, there is no place for me,” you smile painfully, “So let me go. Leave me with the sins of being greedy and selfish to both of you. Leave me and go forward with each other.”

“You said you see us. But you’re wrong.” Tonowari suddenly says against your skin. You shiver at his breath. You look at him questioningly. He looks at you, his blue eyes are deep with emotions you find yourself drowning in.

“If you do, then you should have known how we long for you as well. How we want you so bad. How we want you to be with us. Together.” Ronal rests her head on the other side of your shoulder.

“If you do, then you should have known how greedy and selfish we are as well for you. Be greedy with me. With Ronal. Be selfish with us and let us be the same with you.” Their words make you widen your eyes. Shock leaves you speechless and their confession leaves you breathless.

“You say we are the ocean and the wind, but you are the life. You are the gleaming plants and the flora the wind dances with. You are the glowing lights underneath the ocean it flows with. You are the direction that guides the wind. You are the water that makes the ocean.”

“We might be the ocean and the wind, but without you, there is nothing of us.”

Suddenly, you are aware of the way they look at you. The way they touch you. The way they are so close to you.

“Do you hear the ocean and the wind that has been longing for you and calling out your name for so long?”

“Do you see us now?”

With more tears not out of sadness, but surprise and tenderness, flow out once more, you chuckle hoarsely. You finally rest against Tonowari and fully embrace Ronal. You close your eyes. You hear the waves of the ocean from the distance and feel the breeze of the wind. You open your eyes and look at them.

“I see you.”

series-taglist: (tumblr won't let me tag some blogs so if you changed your username, please lmk!) @totesnothere04 @ducks118 @narutoboi @yeosxxx @fanboyluvr @ladylovegood-69 @northsoulss @thatfictionalwh0re @ghostlyworld @toodaloo432 @lovefromjazzy @greendino7 @neteyamforlife @vermilionzombie @vxncxntt @adaiasafira @tsuteysyawntu @mooniequeen @eywas-heir @arminsgfloll @dev1lm4n @myh3artttt @thehoneymushroomhealer @delightcandlelight @shadowmoonlight0604 @dae-dreamer @buttercup-beeee @ms5m1th @cryingwhilereading @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @manumanulau @ssc7514 @loveofvernonslife @cheolattes @bobaopal @riahpickle-blog

#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐#avatar #avatar angst #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #ronal x you #ronal x reader #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you #atwow #atwow angst #avatar 2

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leovenuslatina · 8 months

Text

⋆｡°✩All mine⋆｡°✩

this reading is all about how you can better speed up your manifestations!!

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

psa - tarot readings are not set in stone

take what resonates leave what doesn’t

you’re fully in control of YOUR own life

💚

* take a deep cleansing breathe

and pick a pile that calls to you *

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

pile one: ace of pentacles and the world

💚

confirmation: financial gain,luck,recognition,rewards,positive results,wholeness

💚

pile one to bring your manifestations in quicker you need to stable your emotions !! learn how to relax and take ease in the fact that you. will. get. what. you. want. you need to persist in whatever it is you want ! do not take No for in answer!! you need to be certain as the sky is blue that you’ll get your manifestations!! you pile On my way! need yo know that you are whole ! you don’t need any methods you don’t need any out side sources to help you manifest instantly you are whole exactly as you are and you are a perfect manifester. pile one all you need to do is keep your faith and put all your beliefs in your desires.

💚

affirmations:

💚

*why do i always get what i want?

*how do i manifest so quickly?

*im always on the right path

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

pile two: king of cups and temperance

💚

confirmation: helpful man,getting rich, making lots of money,honey,meditation,professional

💚

keep your thoughts in line pile two!! what you need to do to make your manifestations come in super fast is work on your mental diet!! stop 🛑 being mean to yourself stop ! getting down on yourself stop ! making yourself the victim! put yourself in your wish fulfilled and stay there !! you pile two need to control where your focus goes ! it’s okay to have intrusive thoughts because your thoughts do not make you ! you are stronger than any of your negative thoughts ! another way to bring in your manifestations faster is to show yourself love and compassion and appreciation! you deserve like two ! while you’re waiting for your 3d to catch up to you spend time spoiling yourself and enjoy life ! if you believe in god or prayer i’m seeing that will definitely help you so much with how quickly you bring in your desires.

💚

affirmations:

* i love myself fully

* i am living my dream life

* it’s easy to manifest

* it’s easy to keep my thoughts in check

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

pile three: 7 of pentacles and 3 of swords

💚

confirmation: business,long term success,investing,new beginnings,learning lessons,healing, being stubborn

💚

there are plenty of things your can do to bring in your manifestations super fast one of them is: making room for your manifestations getting all that you can in order for whatever it is you want to bring in! pile 3 you can also think from you desires. what would you think or feel if you had what you wanted? keep that energy all the time!! you can plan out your desires pile 3 i think scripting would be extremely helpful for this pile !! it will be very beneficial to put you in the mindset of what it is you want. don’t give up on your desires you desire them for a reason!!

💚

affirmations:

* i am gifted

*i can achieve anything

*i am a magnet for my desires

*i choose myself always

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚

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sseomtada · 14 days

Text

being [ruben dias]

a stunning revelation only drives you and ruben closer.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 6212 | 7/8

You shook off your surprise after a beat to give her a hug.

“I had to come and see you at some point.” She squeezed your shoulders. “You haven’t been back in months.”

It was difficult to not feel a bit guilty. Prior to moving to Manchester and because your office wasn’t even half an hour away from your home, you’d frequently go back to visit her. Even though things had been going pretty much nonstop in your new city, you could’ve at least made a weekend trip to drop by.

“I’m sorry, I know Jason must be driving you crazy with his antics.” You tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“Maluco…he misses you too.” Her head shook.

You wheeled the bag she’d brought along with her inside and told her to make herself comfortable. The way your blood was rushing and your heartbeat was pounding felt like you were in danger of passing out.

Your only option was to let her in. What else could you do? Be vague about the situation and tell her to come back later because you had some male company over? Judging by the looks of her, she was fresh from the airport. Also important to note was that your mom definitely expected to stay with you during however long her visit was, so she didn’t have a hotel reservation lined up either.

What would you do about Ruben? Your eyes darted to your phone on the coffee table. If you could distract her for a while, maybe you could successfully sneak him out of here without her noticing. It wouldn’t be the first time you and him had to complete such a mission.

“I’ll put on some of that tea you like.” You swiped the device and took it with you to the kitchen.

Luckily, due to your inability to have dishes lingering around, the two plates and glasses you’d used for dinner had already been thrown into the dishwasher. His shoes were also tucked into the cabinet by your doorway. What other evidence of him…

You bit down on a gasp, eyes widening to turn back to your living room. Where the fuck was his shirt? It wasn’t on the sofa where your mom was sitting as far as you could see. Though it could be tangled in the blanket at the other end. You said a silent prayer that she didn’t get too chilly and worked on brewing her tea even faster to prevent that.

In the meantime, you cracked open your phone to see that Ruben had already sent you a message.

Is that your mom…?

Yes 😭

You jumped at the sound of a faint notification pin. With a deep breath, you steeled your nerves as much as possible. If anything, she’d probably assume it was your device going off and not think anything was awry.

We’re gonna have to whip out Project Switcharoo. You remember it?

Of course, I invented it.

Despite the absolute absurdity of the situation, you managed to crack a smile. Ruben was always a respectful and upstanding person. When two teenagers were in love, though, it was hard to accept things like not having boys in your room after dark.

He came up with a plan that was like the classic method of pickpocketing - a bait and switch scenario. For tonight’s occasion, it would look something like this. While she was occupied, he would sneak his way up to your guest bathroom to clear out the bedroom. You’d then take her to your room to show her around, pulling her to the window where the doorway wasn’t visible and allowing him to swiftly make a break for it.

Don’t forget to fix the bed.

Got it. What about my shirt?

You might have to steal one of my hoodies.

The kettle whistled, starting the timer on your mission. Once the tea was fixed and he saw you cross over from the kitchen to the living room, he’d start making his way to phase one. You did up her cup just the way she liked it, took another steadying breath and made your way over.

“You usually hate taking night flights, why didn’t you come earlier?” Your hands shook slightly as you handed her the beverage.

She took a slow sip of her tea, gaze not meeting yours. The fine hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Having lived with your mom for most of your life, you could automatically tell when something was off.

From you saw her at the door and she didn’t greet you half as excitedly as she did on phone calls, you felt it. You tried to battle that notion by rationalizing that you were being extra paranoid because she’d shown up during literally the last moment you’d want her to. It was impossible to ignore now, especially given how long she was taking to answer your question.

“Is everything okay?” You could feel your throat swelling.

“That’s what I came to ask you.” She finally spoke.

Your mom sighed and rested the cup of tea onto the side table. She reached into her purse to pull out her phone. This wasn’t an impromptu drop by driven by your extended absence after all. You knew what it was - an intervention.

Her screen lit up your view as she slid the device onto your lap. There was a screenshot of an Instagram post and in it was a photo of you and Ruben. It was taken on the night of the Nike launch party. You flipped to the next image in her folder. Someone with crazy zoom had caught you two walking towards his car at City’s training grounds.

There were no words. Your mind first went to the conversation Ruben and you had earlier about how much media attention he got, the fact that there was already news out there concerning you two. It was unnerving to actually be staring at the proof of that.

Then came the guilt. The last thing you wanted was for her to find out through the grapevine that you were back together with him. Whether she’d come across it by chance, was sent the post or actively went looking for it didn’t matter. You should’ve been the one to break the news.

And lastly, fear. Her flying out here as soon as she found out meant that she was absolutely not pleased and potentially worried about the state of your mental health. She couldn’t be blamed for that. Any mother that saw their daughter go through what you did after the breakup would have the same reaction to seeing you with the man that put you there.

“Ruben and I are dating again.” You admitted. “We talked it over and decided to give things a chance.”

Your mom scoffed. “See, this is why I had to come. Do you hear yourself? You’re, what, dating him? After everything he put you through?”

Although you anticipated her being upset, you didn’t expect the backlash to be this severe. It honestly took you by surprise. You gave her back her phone and stood, needing some distance from the anger she was radiating.

“I don’t expect you to be happy about it. All I ask is that you trust me and my decision, and not belittle either.” Your voice was even despite everything you felt.

She spoke to you as if you were some thoughtless, naive child. God knows you didn’t just take him back without considering every outcome, especially the worse case scenario. If shit went badly between you two again, you were ready to take accountability.

“I do trust you.” Her tone was less combative. “But do I trust your decision? I can’t…you’ve never been able to think straight when it came to that boy.”

It felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You didn’t think it was unreasonable of you to ask for her not to act as if you were being trivial. The fact that she was speaking to you like you were still the same person that you were seven years ago was hurtful, and quite frankly, insulting.

“My mind is as clear as it’s ever been.” You sighed, growing resigned with this conversation.

She wasn’t though, “No, it isn’t. If you had any common sense left, you wouldn’t be caught dead with him!”

“Mom-“ Your gasp was cut short.

With the unexpected, heated exchange, you’d forgotten all about Ruben still being in the apartment. That was until he made his was out of hiding, clearly having overheard it all. Thankfully he had found your pile of oversized hoodies to cover up. You didn’t know how many more insults you could take tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Ruben made his presence known. “We - I should’ve reached out to you first.”

Your mom spun slowly to look at him. It was a searing, scrutinizing leer that even had you shivering. You’d never seen her take in anyone that way. To his credit, he didn’t cower beneath her glare. He looked like he was ready to accept whatever vitriol she had for him.

“This is exactly what I mean.” She laughed ruefully, pointing between you two.

You were about to tell her to stop when he shook his head.

“Was this your plan all along?” Her question was directed at him. “Were you lying when you promised me you’d-“

Ruben’s eyes were wide with shock and…something you couldn’t quite place. It appeared to be worry, but not for himself. The way she stopped short of her barrage didn’t sit well with you either.

You watched as they seemed to have some nonverbal exchange. At that point, it became obvious that something had happened between them. Something you didn’t know about. Did she confront him after the break up? What promise was she talking about?

“What’s going on?” You asked Ruben directly.

He became a man that was visibly torn, eyes darting between yours and your mom’s. The decision of whether or not he should say anything weighed heavy on his conscience.

You turned to her instead, “Mom, what are you talking about?”

Instead of being met with all the fire you faced before, she bore a similar downcast demeanor as him. Her head hung as she placed her hands to her waist. It was a telltale sign that whatever you were about to find out wasn’t going to look good on her part.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Ruben made his way to leave. “When you’re ready, call me.”

Your head was spinning with how much had happened in such a short period of time. How did your night go from tickle fights, to cooking up an escape plan and now to being on the verge of hearing about a conversation kept hidden from you for nearly a decade?

She sat back down on the sofa, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Instead, you found yourself pacing back and forth while your mom quietly worked through whatever was eating away at her.

“Please just…tell me.” You couldn’t stomach the silence anymore.

Her voice was barely audible as she finally confessed, “The reason Ruben broke up with you is because I asked him to.”

september 15th 2017

Ruben

He was brimming with excitement. All of the sacrifices he’d made, every second of commitment, it was all coming into fruition. His coach told him after practice that he was going to debut for the first team during the match tomorrow.

The first person he wanted to tell was you. You’d been by his side since the literal beginning, when his dream of becoming a footballer was just that - a fantasy. Having you in his life made a journey that broke so many others more than tolerable. He trained and played with your support always at the forefront of his mind.

Ruben bounded his way up the steps to your place and stopped short. Your mom stood with her back facing him, a trail of smoke floating into the air. That was new. Or maybe it was an old habit she indulged in from time to time. When she became aware of being there, the cigarette landed under her shoe.

“I’ve been caught,” Her teeth flashed. “Don’t tell Y/N.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” His fingers zipped across his lips.

She nodded in appreciation. There was clearly something on her mind. He knew that life hadn’t been the easiest for her or you and couldn’t imagine how lonely it must’ve been sometimes. That was why he made himself available to help out as much as he could’ve, if only to lessen the burdens a bit.

“Does she ever talk about her father?” The question she asked confirmed his suspicion.

You never brought him up, in fact. Given that, he didn’t feel as if it was his place to pry. Ruben had heard through the grapevine of neighborhood gossips about his absence and how you didn’t even know who he was.

“She doesn’t.” He replied.

Your mom looked up at the sky, “That’s understandable. You see…”

Ruben found himself listening to the missing pieces that not even you knew. She told him about how they’d met when she was sixteen and that she immediately fell for him - a young, budding football star.

It wasn’t because she was getting attention from someone so coveted, but because he actually saw her the way she’d always craved to be seen. So when he moved to a new team in another country to further pursue his career, she followed along.

She left everything behind. Her family, friends and education. Her dream became seeing his come true. When it did, they were both in the happiest stage of their relationship. And then at nineteen, she found out that she was pregnant with you.

The life she wanted was all coming into place. She thought the next step would be welcoming their baby, getting married and maybe having a few more to fill up their home. What she got instead was abandonment. He didn’t want any of that, or you.

Her parents had warned her that it would happen, but she casted their concerns aside as unfair judgment on his part. They didn’t see her like he did. Moving back in with them after what had happened wasn’t possible given the way they’d left things.

“I see so much of myself in her.” Your mom smiled. “She looks at you the same way I used to look at her dad.” Ruben understood why she was telling him all of this. It was obvious that she was scared you were following the same path and would end up in the same predicament. He didn’t take any offense to her perhaps believing that he was capable of doing the same thing.

“I love her, a lot.” His cheeks rose quickly. “More than I ever knew was possible.”

When he used to think about love, he always tried to rationalize it - to make it make sense. It was only after he realized that he felt that towards you that he came to know the emotion was something that couldn’t be explained. Even saying those words didn’t feel like enough to encompass the spectrum of moments that all combined to make him experience what could only be verbally express in such a limited capacity.

“That’s good because it means you’ll do anything for her.” She nodded.

“Yeah, I would.” He breathed. See, where was the rationale behind something like that?

“I need you to break up with her. She’s too dependent on you and it’ll ruin her in the long run.”

If words could render him speechless and knock him off his feet, those were the ones that would be able to do so. He couldn’t quite believe that was what she said at first. His mind instantly went into denial mode, because surely she was joking. When he stared back at unflinching eyes, he knew that she was being dead serious.

“I…can’t do that, respectfully.” Ruben shook his head.

You might see him in a light that sometimes is admittedly pressuring, making him wonder if he could live up to be that man you painted him out to be in your mind. That didn’t worry him though. If anything, he wanted to keep trying to prove to himself, and you, that he could be.

Beside that, you were strong in your own right. He’d never met anyone who took advantage of every little opportunity they received and made the most out of them. Even in your darkest moments, he saw the determination in you to not want to quit. You inspired him.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch her destroy herself like I did. You’re the only one who can prevent that.” He saw that same persistence in the gaze he got. “The choice is yours. Will it be you or me?”

Ruben thought he understood what this conversation was about in the beginning, but he’d read it all wrong. He only now grasped that she was giving him an ultimatum of sorts. One where there was no real decision for him to make, it was a catch 22.

If he didn’t break up with you, then your mom would abandon you just like your father did to you both. He would have to live with knowing that he was the reason why you had no blood ties left in your life, a notion that was breaking him even in hypotheticals.

Since he quickly realized that he had no choice, he began to reframe it in a way that didn’t hurt as much. The only loser in this situation would be him. You’d be hurt at first, maybe devastated, but you’d have people around you to help you through it. He would just have to figure out a way to deal with his own pain, perhaps starting with taking solace in knowing that he didn’t rob you of your only family.

“Promise me you’ll do the right thing.” Your mom looked back at him as she approached the door.

She lingered there until the words begrudgingly left his lips, “I promise.”

o presente

Everything burned.

Your eyes and nose, your heart itself. Sure, you’d experienced heartbreak before but it was child’s play compared to what was wreaking havoc in your soul - betrayal. Never in a million years did you ever expect the reason behind your breakup to be your own mother.

The person sitting in front of you crying tears of her own was a foreign entity. You failed to recognize the woman that baked you cakes, taught you dance routines and held you at your lowest.

How could she do that to you? Did she think that forcing Ruben to do something so cruel was the way to express the deep love she supposedly had for you? Or was it some fucked up trauma response to the past she never dealt with?

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Your mom sniffed. “I regret all the pain I caused because of that night.”

What you were going through now felt a thousand, a million times worse than then. There was no denial to turn to for even a second of hope. This ugly, soul crushing truth bared its jagged teeth and was ripping away your flesh.

“It shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back.” She continued. “All I could’ve done was to be there for you to help you through it, praying that you came out stronger and you did.”

“Are you serious? How could you even think that was right?” You sobbed.

It was all loud and clear to you. She regretted putting you through hell, but she didn’t regret actually doing it. Despite watching you break down for weeks, she still believed that what she made him do somehow helped you. She wasn’t sorry that she did it, she was sorry that she got caught - that you finally found out the truth.

“I-“ You bit your lip to suppress another snivel. “I need some space. You can stay here tonight, but I want you gone tomorrow.”

The most messed up part was that saying those words hurt you even more. Even though she was the one who put you both in this situation, you felt like the bad guy for asserting a rightful boundary. Those blissful memories you had of her hadn’t suddenly evaporated into nothing.

You took your phone and keys, and left her in your apartment. An aching uncertainty hung over your head. You were unsure how long you’d need before you could even look at her again without feeling such overwhelming disappointment.

Aki’s blanket slipped from her head as soon as she took in the state of you stood in her doorway. It had to be deja vu all over for her again, how many times have you done this? Why was life continuously throwing blow after blow at your gut?

“Do you have any whiskey?” Your inquiry sprang her into action.

She shuffled over to the kitchen and brought out one of her biggest bottles along with two glasses. You didn’t have the stomach anymore for straight liquor, but you’d needed it to calm the raging sea of emotions.

Her eyes were wiped clean of any traces of slumber once she joined you on the sofa. You immediately poured two fingers and threw it back. And then doubled that.

“Woah, let’s…get to the part where you tell me what brought this on before you black out.” Aki pulled the bottle towards her.

“Seven years ago, my mother made Ruben promise he’d break up with me.” You laughed humorlessly.

It was weird watching her expression go through several shifts within the span of a few seconds. That must’ve been what you looked like from the other perspective too once you found out.

She topped up and threw back her own glass before asking you to shed light on that very stupefying statement. You filled her in starting from the pretext. All about your mom’s past and what your dad did to her.

How she told Ruben all of this on the night prior to issuing him a task so abhorrent that you still were coming to grips with fathoming it. Aki appeared to be just as woeful as you were upon the discovery.

Similar to this wound being repeatedly ripped open for you, it was for her. Your mother was like a her second one. So many days and nights were filled with the three of you laughing, dancing and crying together. She spent so much time lamenting Ruben, more than you by far, for what he’d done. And just as you were now, she felt guilty for it.

“I feel like I’ve brought so much chaos into your life and I’m sorry for it all.” You sipped the alcohol slower this time.

“Don’t do that.” Aki objected. “None of this is your fault. I’m sorry that she did this to you, Y/N. God, I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”

She pulled you in. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Tears flowed hot and fresh, especially when you felt her own sobs racking through her body. You patted her back, lips trembling as you fought the urge to apologize again.

There was nothing to say. You were all victims of one person’s action born of insecurity. It fucking sucked, but there wasn’t much either of you could do about it now. All that was left was for you to be there for one another, to work through the pile of shit you’d been handed until you could see the ground again.

When you woke up the following day, you found that your request had been met. Your apartment was free and clear as you learned via text. Boarding my flight back. Again, I’m sorry Y/N.

You weren’t in the mood to unpack all of that again right now. The first thing you did was change into some workout clothes to head to the gym for a run. While the activity didn’t entirely clear your mind, your focus did find itself pulled more in the direction of your burning muscles than your stormy mind.

After you showered, you threw a bagel in the toaster and hopped into the shower. You forced yourself to munch on that in between massive gulps of water. The whiskey was fighting back and paired with the emotional exhaustion you felt, it was best to take the day off.

Aki and Cindy told you not to worry about work, they’d hold down the fort. You were more grateful towards them now than you’d ever been. Just don’t drink the last of my favorite coffee pods, you warned in the group chat.

You reclined onto your sofa and put on a random mix of recommended YouTube videos. No media would provide the distraction you truly needed, but it was nice to have some background noise. The cushion under your head wasn’t laying the way you wanted to, so you adjusted and felt the obstruction.

It was Ruben’s shirt. The one you had on was replaced with his before you curled up. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder what this meant now for you and him. Of course, you still wanted to be with Ruben. How did it impact him though?

He must’ve been back in that same headspace he was in when they had that exchange. Was he wondering whether or not she had issued the same choice to you after he left? Even though she didn’t and you were holding off on communicating with her for a while, you didn’t want him to think that you were giving up on a relationship with your mom because of him.

You weren’t completely shutting her out of your life, but at the current moment, you just couldn’t see how you would ever trust her again. The relationship you had with her would never be the same, and fault solely rested on her part.

You couldn’t imagine how awful this whole thing must’ve been for him. He sacrificed being with you and the way others looked at him. Even when he gave you the supposed reason he’d broken up with you, he still protected her. You wanted to be so angry at him for doing that, but it was no fairer than the order he’d received from your mom.

Ruben had never changed. He remained the person you knew that put the wellbeing of those he loved often above his own, the person who shielded them from pain - even if it meant inflicting some and becoming the one they hated. It was all so unfair to him and you refused to spend a second longer without letting him know that.

“Can I come over?” You asked after he picked up on the first ring.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough.

As soon as you crossed his threshold, you launched yourself at him and hugged him tight. He was stunned at first, but your embrace was returned with the same magnitude. You buried your face deep into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Your tone was muted.

“Don’t apologize.” Ruben stroked your hair. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I-“

You shushed him. His response was expected, you knew that he was going to tell you not to apologize and that it wasn’t your fault but his. There was nothing he could’ve done about the situation, you didn’t blame him.

“I’m saying that because you deserve to hear it.” You looked into his eyes. “No one should have to be put through that and carry the burden of it for so long.”

Ruben didn’t fight you on that because you both know that you were right. He placed his chin on top of your head again and held you for a moment longer before he pulled you to sit down with him.

“So, you know everything?” His index finger drew circles on your knee.

You nodded, “I do.”

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?” Ruben left the door open.

A lot had actually crossed your mind while you were left reeling from the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the answers to the things you needed to hear most. There was one thing though.

“What changed?” You bit your lip. “Why did you try to get me back now and not before then?”

The message he’d sent you asking if your number was still the same could’ve came a year, or two, maybe even three ago. You were curious as to what made him want to throw caution to the wind after all this time.

“I tried holding on to the promise I’d made…even when it felt like I was suffocating. It was easy, sometimes, because I justified going along with it through telling myself that I’d chosen the lesser of two evils.” Ruben expressed. “When I moved here, the distance made things somewhat bearable - knowing that there was no chance I’d run into you.”

“Until you nearly did.” A grin flashed across your face as you recalled that rainy evening.

“It all came flooding back to me then.” He smiled too. “Everything that you were to me, everything that you were supposed to be. I felt like I would go mad if I kept ignoring what you meant and still mean to me. I had to at least try.”

If this was a movie, you’d think fate was behind your reunion. Even in reality that was kind of hard to deny. What were the chances that he would see you randomly on the street, or be a part of your first project in some way? Whatever was in charge pulling the strings behind the scenes was more determined than either of you to bring you both here today.

“I’ve got to say, that was a massive gamble on your part.” You cupped his cheek.

Timing was everything. When you thought about it, had he reached out to you via message prior to you seeing him in person, you didn’t think you’d receive it well. The cards had to be played very specifically for you to end up at this moment.

“Not to me. I told you, I loved you then and I never stopped.” Ruben stroked your ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

After everything that you’d been through together, hearing him say those words impacted you on a completely different level. They’d always meant so much, but now they contained it all - the entirety of your shared history. Him choosing you from the very first day you’d met, doing the same even when it meant breaking your heart and again as he fought to get you back.

Your brows met, eyes welling as you told him, “I love you too.”

The way he kissed you struck in a whole new way as well. It was adoration unobstructed and unrestrained. His lips moving over and between yours exhibited just how free he felt with the burden of a long kept secret no longer weighing him down.

Every touch was completed with the utmost undertaking. Ruben’s hand splayed over your thighs and stomach, flattening, digging into your skin. Desperate not to miss a single inch. He removed his shirt from your frame and lied you down.

You willed your heavy eyes to stay focused on him, your fingers disappearing into his thick hair. So beautiful, he kissed your navel. So perfect, his teeth grazed your hip bone. All mine, hips lips closed around the skin of your inner thigh.

What came next left the task of keeping him in your sights impossible. Your hand pressed into the cushion, back arching as you writhed beneath his skillful mouth that claimed your cunt. He held you sturdily, one hand caressing your lower back and the other pressing down on your abdomen.

It didn’t take much for you to come undone for him. He knew every direction and angle to take with his tongue to leave you drifting away. Like the anchor he was, Ruben didn’t let you float off too far.

His body molded to yours, heat becoming your own. You always found yourself wanting him endlessly, but that compulsion was stronger than ever. Still, you forced that hunger to subside for as long as possible to indulge in all that he was.

You traced his brow with your thumb and let your finger trail down until it met his lips. The curve of them were reverently memorized to the point where you were certain that you could recreate their image in clay with uncanny accuracy.

Ruben slid a hand between your legs to make your mouth fall open with a moan. It was what he wanted, to have your tongue accessible to his. They moved in tandem that built with intensity the more you shook and whined under his digits circling your clit.

His forehead pressed to yours as he looked down the narrow gap between your bodies. You followed suit and swallowed deeply at the sight. He had you glistening, swollen with readiness while his cock twitched achingly.

When he moved to touch it, your wrist caught him. Let me, you breathed. Your fingers wrapped around his thick, firm shaft and tugged upwards. His drawn out groan floated into your mouth, a slight hiss sucking it back as you swiped your thumb over the opening in his sensitive tip.

You were losing against yourself again. Just as you could no longer force your eyes to remain open, you could no longer hold back the need to have him inside you. Your hips angled, legs spreading even wider for his body to rest flush against yours.

As soon as you’d lined him up with your entrance, his hips pressed forward. You curled one arm around his shoulder and cupped the back of his head with the next. No adjustment was necessary, you ground into him eagerly . A call that was instantly answered.

Ruben thrusted into you deep, testing his limits. When he found that there was none - your legs locking around his waist, eyes rolling back and neck baring itself to him - he withdrew until almost completely out of you and did it again. And again. And again.

Don’t stop.

You like that?

Yes, please, more…

He gave it to you just as you wished. Long, hard, unrelenting strokes that breached your cervix. Tides were moving in quickly, threatening to whisk you away for a blinding moment. You were determined to take as much as you could before they could do so.

Your legs dropped, feet digging into the sofa. You used them for momentum to bring your hips to meet his drives, cunt consuming his cock in its entirety. The point you craved to reached had finally been met - where the pleasure was so overbearing that your mind began playing tricks on you to make you believe it was a fantasy.

But you knew it was real. Even as you succumbed to the waves that dragged you under, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. The cries that ripped their way from your throat and his praises told you so. Ruben’s face buried deep into your neck and his cock twitching as it filled you let you know that you’d climbed that impossible mountain.

In the stillness that followed, you begged him to stay. Your foot ran down the back of his muscled calf and your hands massaged his back while he caged you in his strong arms. For once, there were no afterthoughts.

You didn’t catch your mind wandering off to unknowns and what ifs. A sense of peace shrouded you just like his body was. Whatever tomorrow or the distant future brought no longer filled you with worry or fear. No matter what came along, you were at ease.

All you focused on was what was going on right now. Ruben’s chest rising and falling at a steady pace that matched your own, his hips still joined to yours, the feeling of his lips forming a smile against your cheek.

That was everything you needed.

#ruben dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #being

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major-mads · 1 month

Text

Chapter 7: Lucky 25

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: please comment or reblog and tell us what you think!! thanks for reading!! <3

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 11k

Thursday, September 16th: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich: 1300 HRS: 1 PM

Hope’s back ached as she bent over her old Singer sewing machine, silk fabric sliding effortlessly as the needle punched thread through it. Silk was hard to come by with rationing, and there was no way, even with Hugh’s help, that she could afford a new wedding dress. Luckily for her, Frank had a knack for making things disappear from the storeroom on base and later making them reappear in the girls' hut.

Ruth hummed Artie Shaw out of tune from behind her as the blonde cut out more fabric from the pattern, laying the pieces of cloth over the tissue paper cutouts. Tatty and Helen hand-sewed small pieces of lace together, just some odd cuts they’d gotten from the local fabric shop.

The girls worked hard all afternoon, measuring, cutting, and sewing. The dress was coming along nicely, and with only three weeks to go until the big day, Hope was anxious to get it finished in time.

The Singer buzzed along nicely as three familiar heads poked around the nissen hut door.

“Knock, knock,” Hugh called out, stepping inside, his hands on his hips as he assessed the girl's work. Gale and John followed him closely.

“You guys can’t be in here,” Helen scolded.

“It’s bad luck to see the dress before the wedding, Cleven,” Tatty hissed, marching over to the men. “You better get going before…”

“My dear Tatty, don’t be so defensive, I merely come to offer my services,” Hugh bowed dramatically.

Hope snickered, all too aware of Hugh’s sewing skills, “I don’t think your skills are required here, Hugh. You’re not really one for a needle and thread.”

Hugh scrunched his face up at her just like he’d done since they were children, and before he could throw out any more ridiculous ideas, Gale stepped forward.

“I don’t want to cause trouble, I merely want to spend some time with my girl,” Gale smiled charmingly at Tatty who moved aside.

“No wonder Hope can never say no to you, Major. That damn smile.”

Gale made his way across the room just as Hope finished covering the dress with a sheet. “Hello darling,” he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Hope stood up, pressing her lips against his again, smiling into his touch.

“Tatty, come on,” John all but whined, pointing into the hut while Tatty stood firm on the doorstep. “It’s me.”

“And that is exactly why I’m not letting you in. You’d get your grubby mitts all over the dress.”

“I wouldn’t dare! Please,” John clasped his hands together, looking rather sad and pathetic until Tatty sighed.

“Fine, but one step out of line, Major, and you’re out.”

John moved past Tatty towards Ruth who was still sitting on the floor, surrounded by a collection of differently shaped pieces of silk.

“Never knew you were such a seamstress,” he grinned, kissing her gently and enjoying the familiar blush that crept across her pale cheeks.

“Well, I’m a woman of many talents,” Ruth retorted, grinning up at the Major.

“That you are.”

“Hugh, put that fabric down now,” Hope hissed, moving away from Gale’s arms to scold her brother, smacking his arm until he released the precious fabric. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a hold of this?”

“It’s just some silk, I’m sure any white fabric would do,” Hugh replied nonchalantly, pushing the reeling of cotton across Helen’s desk and glancing awkwardly around the room as it fell to the floor.

Hope sighed, “Hugh, for once in your life, please just be serious and stop acting like a child. It’s for my wedding day. Please don’t mess this up for me.”

Hope loved her brother dearly, but sometimes it felt like she had to do all the work in their relationship.

Hugh nodded apologetically, “I will. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your big day, Little Bird.” Hope smiled at her childhood nickname, it had been a long time since he’d called her that. “But is there anything I can help with?”

“Yes, there is,” Helen grabbed ahold of Gale and John’s sleeves, marching them towards Hugh, “You can take these two and keep them out of trouble until this evening.”

“Oh, come on, we just got here,” John groaned, glancing at Ruth in the hope of some sympathy, but she just waved at him. Gale glanced around Helen, blowing a kiss in Hope’s direction before the three men descended from the hut.

“You ladies have fun now, we’ll see you later,” Hugh called out, slamming the door dramatically.

Helen turned back to the group, hurrying back to her spot beside Tatty, “I honestly don’t know how you’ve put up with Hugh for so long.”

“I didn’t have much choice,” Hope laughed, turning back to the sewing machine, “He’s my brother after all.”

A few moments passed until another knock sounded at the door, and Helen marched back over with a groan, slinging it open to reveal John leaning on the doorframe.

“What is it?”

He peered around the woman, his eyes falling on Ruth. “Can I get a kiss?”

“You just got one!” she giggled, rising to her feet and approaching the door. “You’re so needy.”

Helen moved out of the doorway, chuckling as Ruth rose on her tiptoes and quickly kissed John before pushing him out the door with a wink. “See you later, hotshot!”

As the door closed in his face, John couldn’t help but shake his head at Ruth, his heart racing at the mere sight of her. Buck clapped his shoulder and turned him toward the nearby mess hall where Hugh walked a few feet ahead of them. “You gonna tell her tonight?”

“If Dye gets back in one piece, I will,” Johnny nodded, scratching his mustache.

“He will.”

One Week Earlier: September 10: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

The mess hall was unusually quiet as John and Gale sat eating their breakfast, having missed the morning rush by sleeping in an extra hour. They both laid awake the night before, their minds unable to shut off after the events of John’s party. Since they’d arrived, Bucky was silent, only speaking to thank the mess hall worker for his coffee.

Buck stared at him skeptically, taking in his slightly pursed lips and distant gaze that focused on the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. “I can hear the gears turning from here, John. What is it?”

A few beats passed until he spoke up, his eyes remaining on his food. “Ruth.”

“Hmm,” Gale nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “What about her?”

“Everything…I can’t get her off my mind, Buck. I don’t know what’s going on.”

‘I do,’ the younger man thought.

John shook his head with a sigh, his brow creasing as his conflicted gaze lifted from the table. “I can’t explain it.”

Gale put down his coffee cup and smiled softly at his friend. “I can…you love her.”

“I don’t know, Buck.”

“What don’t you know?” he asked as his brows furrowed. Gale saw the deep thought behind the Major’s eyes and realized the confident and boisterous John Egan was nowhere in sight. This Bucky was unsure of himself, facing emotions he’d never felt before. Buck’s voice softened as he continued. “What do you know?”

John raised a questioning brow and Gale leaned his elbows onto the table. “How do you feel around her?”

“I don’t-” Bucky frustratedly groaned, sitting back into his seat. ”I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Just try.”

Every moment he shared with Ruth replayed like a film in John’s mind as he tried to find the words to describe the way he felt.

“When I think about her,” he finally began, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It just…It just does somethin’ to me, Buck, and can’t think straight.”

Gale listened intently, nodding along as John continued, his voice growing softer.

“And after last night, how she did all that for me? I’ve never met anyone like her.” His brow creased in thought as he struggled to find his next words. “She’s…she’s-”

“Everything,” Buck finished, Hope’s smiling face forming in his mind.

Gale’s words hung in the air for a few moments as the Majors thought of their beloved nurses.

Bucky nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the window where the morning sun filtered through the glass, lighting up the mess hall in a golden glow. He took a deep breath as he finally came to terms with what he was feeling.

John Egan was in love.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “She’s everything.”

A knowing grin painted Gale’s face as he repeated his earlier statement. “You love her.”

“That how you feel about Hope?”

“Yeah, it is.”

As Buck’s words settled over them, John felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It was as if hearing the words out loud made them easier to grasp, and he couldn’t deny it any longer…he was in love with Ruth Morgan.

But even as the realization settled in, Bucky couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered in the back of his mind. This was a new territory for him, uncharted skies that both excited and terrified him. He’d always prided himself on his wild heart, but now he found himself willingly surrendering to feelings he’d managed to avoid for so long.

“You know,” Gale began, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “You should tell her. It’s pretty clear she feels the same way.”

“We said we’d take it slow.”

Cleven pushed his plate aside and leaned further over the table. “So? When have you ever been one to follow the rules?”

Finally, John’s serious expression faded and he shook his head with a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And when have you ever encouraged me to break them?”

“Today,” he shrugged. “But only cause you need an extra shove.”

“Should I get used to this new Buck?”

“Don’t count on it,” Gale smirked as he sat back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee.

1900 HRS: 7 PM

The lively sound of Glenn Miller filled the Officer’s Club as the band brought the hall to life. Couples jitterbugged and lindy-hopped across the dance floor, and happy conversation filled the air, including loud cackles and laughter from a table in the bar section where Hope and Ruth sat with their Majors. They were reminiscing about their time in San Angelo, Texas, with the girls’ under their arms and Hugh to the right of his sister.

Buck took a sip of his ginger beer with a raised brow. “Isn’t that where you picked up that damned jacket?”

“Sure is,” John replied and sucked his teeth. “My pride and joy.”

“So that’s where you got it,” Ruth giggled, shaking her head.

“Well,” he shrugged, holding a hand up defensively. “It was being discontinued, so I had no choice.”

Sitting up in his chair across from them, Hugh let out something between a chuckle and a scoff. “It was a choice, alright.”

Hope’s eyes met Ruth’s at the comment, waiting for a snarky comeback from the Major, but the blonde just patted John’s chest consolingly before he could respond. “It was being discontinued for a reason, John. Have you seen that thing?”

“Thank you. It always looks dirty,” Gale interjected as he smirked at John. “Seems Ruth is on my side for this one, Bucky.”

A giggle escaped Ruth’s lips and she sheepishly looked up at Johnny to see him already staring down at her, a playful frown on his lips a few inches away. “Say it isn’t true, Ruthie.”

“Sorry, hotshot,” she laughed, her eyes unable to resist flicking to his mouth at their close proximity. “Buck’s right, hon, but know you’re still my favorite Major.”

John’s frown faded and his lips curled into a mischievous grin as her laughter filled the air, and to his surprise, she leaned up and kissed him softly. Ruth pulled away after a moment with bright pink cheeks. The taste of her drink lingered on Bucky’s lips as his gaze locked with hers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His plans to finally tell her how he cared about her, how he loved her, flashed in the forefront of his mind. But even as he stared down at her smiling face and a wave of pure adoration washed over him, his stomach swirled with nervousness.

What if she thought it was too fast? Too soon? Too much?

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, John forced himself to look away and took a sip of his pint before turning to Hope and pointing at her across the table. “And whaddya think, Hope? About my jacket? It’s nice, right?”

The woman met Ruth’s lovesick eyes and chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen, but I prefer Gale’s.”

Gale smiled smugly, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, “That’s my girl. Always knew you had good taste.”

“Well, of course, I do. I picked you didn’t I?” She grinned at him, leaning up to press her lips to his, smiling into the kiss.

“Well, that’s right. You sure a lady with a good eye,” Gale mused, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Gale,” she chuckled, feeling his breath tickling against her collarbone, while her fingers carded through his tousled, blond locks.

“Gaaaale,” John teased, dramatically drawing out the name with his eyes closed. “What kind of name is Gale, anyway?”

Hope’s eyes widened in amusement as Gale groaned beside her, having heard the joke a million times before. “Well, what kind of a name is Bucky?” she asked, tilting her head with a sarcastic grin. “Now Buck I can get because he’s a dashing young man, but Bucky? I don’t know…”

The group burst into laughter and John tried to send the woman a dirty look, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smirk and joining in with them. Before long, he itched for a dance and stood to his feet, pulling Ruth toward the dance floor.

“I think it’s time for a dance, Ruthie.”

“Alright, I’m coming!” she giggled, sending Hope a wave as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides in her tight skirt.

The couple found themselves at the edge of the dancefloor, swaying hand in hand to the soft trumpet solo ringing through the hall. Ruth rested her head on John’s chest, calmed by the gentle thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear and his warmth as they danced.

She could’ve stayed there in that moment forever…just her and her hotshot…just her and the man she loved.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair, breaking the silence between them. “I know I told you earlier, but you do.”

Lifting her head from his chest, Ruth smiled sheepishly at him. “Thank you. I don’t normally wear my dress uniform, but-”

“Oh, I’m so glad you did.”

She raised an eyebrow and slid her hands around his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a smirk, his eyes drifting down to her breast pocket area that proudly displayed her pair of wings and lieutenant’s bars. “I’m a sucker for a woman in uniform.”

“So I need to worry about the WACs?”

Bucky chuckled, tugging Ruth against him. “Don’t worry. You’ve got nothing to worry about, lieutenant.”

As the music swirled around them, John’s gaze softened as he looked into her deep blues. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. Ruth’s cheeks flushed pink as she returned it, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, melting into his embrace. She felt him smile against her lips and pulled back to get a good look at him.

“What are you smiling about, Major?” she joked.

Bucky wanted to say, ‘How much I love you,’ but anxiety churned in his stomach and he couldn’t go through with it.

“Just you.”

Rolling her eyes, Ruth pecked the corner of his lips before returning her head to its place on his chest. “I’m so happy for Gale and Hope.”

“Me too,” he replied, his eyes scanning the room for the couple. “Speaking of Buck…where is he?”

Ruth joined him looking for their friends, but she had no luck and wiggled her eyebrows at Bucky. “They’re probably having some alone time.”

He sent her a mischievous smirk, and she knew what he planned to do. “Leave ‘em be, Johnny,” she groaned, sighing as he pulled her along behind him toward the door. “Don’t bother them.”

“But it’s my job to bother Buck.”

Before Ruth could respond, he flung open the side door and stuck his head outside. By the wild grin on his face, she knew he’d found them. “Hey, Lovebirds! Hurry up, you're missing the party!”

“Five more minutes!” she heard Gale groan, and then John closed the door, a proud smirk hanging from his lips.

“You’re terrible.”

Bucky shot her a wink and led her back to their table, settling back into their seats as they saw Gale and Hope enter the hall and begin swaying slowly.

“Would you look at that?” John scoffed, sipping his pint and throwing an arm over the back of Ruth’s chair. “I’ve been trying to get Buck to dance for years and Hope did it in two months.”

The couple couldn’t help but watch their friends dance, both with lovesick smiles as they got lost in the song, spinning around the floor with a practiced grace that neither Ruth nor John expected.

Buck was good at dancing.

Their concentration on the couple was broken when yells echoed through the air. Following the sound, they saw Harry throw peanuts across the table into Hugh’s mouth, laughing hysterically as Hugh caught another one.

Ruth opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Hope beat her to it.

“I leave you two alone for all of five minutes and you wreak havoc,” Hope tutted, patting Harry on the head like a small child. “If you choke on all those nuts Hugh, I swear…”

A giggle escaped the blonde’s lips at the comment and John chuckled beside her.

“Alright mother,” Hugh laughed, throwing one of the nuts at his sister.

Hope and Gale took their seats beside Harry, settling easily beside each other with Gale’s hand draping lazily around her shoulder. The six of them fell into easy conversation, and soon, the table became more crowded when Veal, Crank, Brady, Blakely, and a few other airmen joined the group. Laughter and wisps of cigarette smoke filled the air as the men and the two nurses unwound, enjoying the company of friends.

Ruth remained tucked under Bucky’s arm, listening to yet another story from training in the States. This one was about a failed exercise where several forts experienced ‘equipment malfunctions’ and ‘discrepancies’ that forced them to land in or near the hometowns of family and girlfriends.

Crank grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, the Hundredth almost got canned after that.”

“And I got demoted for the first time,” John chimed as he thought about just how many times he’d changed commands over his time with the 100th.

Eyes widening in surprise, Ruth playfully smacked his chest. “For the first time? I thought you getting demoted back to Squadron CO only happened once?”

“It would’ve been three times if LeMay would have found him or Buck that day he came to base,” Kidd added.

Nudging Buck with her shoulder, Hope smirked. “And what about you, Gale?”

Gale shrugged as he hid a smirk behind his glass of ginger beer. “I don’t know why LeMay thought both of us were responsible for the ‘raunchy discipline’ on base.”

“So you’re sayin’ it was just me?” John asked with an incredulous grin.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I mean,” Benny started, trying to hold in a laugh as he rubbed Meatball’s head affectionately. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck tear up a bar with a narwhal tusk.”

Laughter erupted like a sudden burst of fireworks around the table, echoing around the lively room and drowning out the music.

Narrowing his eyes at them, John pointed around the table. “Technically, none of you dodos saw any of that!”

“We didn’t have to. We saw the aftermath,” Brady called out through his chuckles.

After a few moments, the laughter died down, and the large group broke into smaller conversations.

Gale spoke quietly to Benny as Hope whispered with Hugh, and Ruth listened as Jack shared more stories of John’s escapades back in the States. Before long, the two majors went at it as they often did, but Ruth’s attention was drawn away by Hugh and Hope slinking away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

‘This outta be good,’ she thought.

When the band slowly faded out, Ruth smirked, knowing what was most likely coming. She peered over at Gale, expecting him to be watching Hope, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Benny and didn’t seem to notice his fiancée’s absence from the seat beside him.

The band thrummed to life, music springing out across the room in a less-than-subtle fashion that had all heads turning toward the siblings. Then Gale’s eyes found Hope’s across the room and he did a double take, glancing back at her empty chair in confusion.

Ruth pointed at siblings, a wide smile painting her face as she whispered in John’s ear. “This is gonna be interesting. They both can sing.”

“Sparky? No way,” he griped with a grimace. “No way he’s got better pipes than me.”

Giggling, she patted his cheek lightly and turned back to the stage. “Just wait and see, hon.”

Hugh took his place in front of the microphone, encouraging Hope to do the same as he pressed his lips near the cool metal grille. The conductor gave them the queue, and she took a deep breath before singing into the microphone.

“One of our planes was missing, two hours overdue.

Yes, one of our planes was missing with all its gallant crew,

The radio sets were hummin', they waited for the word,

Then a voice broke through that hummin',

And this is what they heard!”

The song, rather aptly chosen by Hugh for Dye’s 25th mission, began to flow easily. Hugh joined in, belting out,

“Comin' in on a wing and a prayer!”

The second Hugh’s voice rang through the speakers, the skeptical smirk on John’s lips fell, and he raised a brow at Ruth, who just rolled her eyes at his reaction.

“I told you he was good.”

“I never said he was good,” he defended.

The corners of the blonde’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “You didn’t have to.”

Around them, some of the crowd began to join in, all looking at Dye whose cheeks were growing redder by the minute as he stood beside Lil, trying to shield his face.

“What a show (What a show),

What a fight (What a fight).”

The instrumental section began to play, and the couple watched as Hugh took Hope’s arm and spun her around in quick concession. A wide grin spread on Ruth’s face that matched her best friend’s on stage.

With her eyes glued on Hope, Ruth started to sing along. Her voice was slightly off-key, but she didn’t care, continuing to sing quietly where only John could hear. The man couldn’t look away from her smiling face as she sang. His gaze wandered over her face with a gentle intensity, watching how her lips moved, the slight quirk of her smile adding to her already breathtaking look.

“Yes, we really hit our target for tonight,

How we’ll sing as we limp through the air,

Look below, there’s a field over there.”

Ruth’s eyes flickered over to John and caught his gaze. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and she noticed the same vulnerable glint in his eyes as the night he told her of his past. She offered him a questioning look, silently asking what was on his mind.

Johnny’s mind raced as his lips parted slightly. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he sent her a small, reassuring smile and barely shook his head as if to say, ‘nothing.’

There was something in his eyes that Ruth couldn’t quite put it into words, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless. With a soft nod, she turned her attention back to the stage, her hand reaching for John’s beneath the table, intertwining their fingers gently.

The Major’s heart sank as Ruth turned away, his own hand squeezing hers softly in response. He cursed himself silently for his inability to tell her how he felt, and frustration bubbled up within him.

How many more opportunities would he let slip away without telling her the truth?

“With our full crew aboard,

And our trust in the Lord,

Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.”

As the song came to a close, Hugh wrapped his arms around his sister, squeezing her hard before grasping her hand and pulling her down from the stage. Hope hopped down the best she could, ignoring the small ripping noise from her skirt that would surely be a problem later. Hugh had a little skip in his step as they made their way back to the table.

Hugh threw himself down into his chair, downing the last of his whiskey, while Hope took her seat beside Gale, his face still in awe and his lips turned upwards into the largest smile.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” He mumbled softly, kissing her cheek, letting the rough stubble on his chin graze against Hope’s cheek.

She squirmed, laughing lightly, “Oh only about every hour that I’m on base and in every letter.”

“Good,” he mused, kissing her cheek once more, “Because you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…” Gale was broken off by Bucky’s loud declaration.

“What the hell was that, Sparky?” John asked with a mischievous grin, his eyebrows raised at Hugh.

Scoffing as he settled into his chair, the lieutenant rolled his eyes. “I sounded a helluva lot better than you ever have…Isn’t that right, Croz?”

Harry’s expression dropped, his eyes widening nervously as he darted glances between Hugh and his Squadron CO, who sported a smirk and an eyebrow raised expectantly. “Uhhhhh…”

Ruth was in the middle of sipping her when the comment left Hugh’s lips, and she choked on the liquid, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she coughed, trying to regain her composure. Immediately, John’s hand on her chair moved to rub her back as he ducked to check on her, the rest of the table turning their attention to the pair. Before he could speak, she waved him off with a sheepish smile, finally managing to swallow.

“Sorry about that,” she rasped, wiping at her eyes. “I’m alright…please continue.”

Looking around the group, Ruth met Hope’s concerned gaze and sent her a teary grin, her pale face splotchy as she caught her breath.

“Where was I?”

Bubbles chuckled under his breath before sending Hugh a smirk. “You were complimenting Bucky’s singing abilities.”

“Right! I-”

“Everyone look here!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded the group as Captain John Schwarz, the 100th’s photographer, stepped forward with his camera in hand.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get a good one!” he called out cheerfully, adjusting the settings on his camera.

The group quickly turned toward him, and Ruth managed to put on a bright smile for the photo despite still trying to clear her throat. They all posed in their seats, and John’s arm draped casually over the blonde’s chair, her hand resting on his knee as she leaned into him.

With the click of the camera, the Captain took the picture, but before he could step back, John called out to him with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, Schwarz. Mind getting a picture of just the two of us?”

He nodded enthusiastically, adjusting the camera to focus on the couple. Bucky flashed a charming smile as he reached over and gently tugged Ruth from her chair into his lap.

“Hey!” she protested playfully, her cheeks flushing pink as John wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

Ruth giggled as Johnny leaned in, his cheek pressing against hers as they posed for the picture. Despite her initial protest, she found herself melting into his embrace. The photographer chuckled at their antics, capturing the moment with a few clicks of his camera. She glanced up at the Major just as Schwarz lowered his camera, and Bucky planted a soft kiss on her lips.

The table erupted into a chorus of whistles and hoots, their friends cheering them on as they kissed. Ruth laughed against John’s lips, feeling a rush of happiness and warmth enveloping her. Pulling back slightly, John gazed into her blue eyes, his own filled with pure adoration as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink.

“Alright, lovebirds. That’s enough,” Gale grinned, repeating Bucky’s words from a few minutes before.

Schwarz moved around the table, snapping a photo of Demarco and Meatball, Hugh with poor Harry in a headlock, until he moved around to Hope and Gale. Buck stood up, leading Hope slightly away from the table, and wrapping his arms around her from behind kissing her temple. Hope grinned widely at the photographer who snapped the picture with his own smile.

Hugh appeared beside the Captain, mumbling something under his breath before moving over to the couple.

“Could I please borrow my sister, Cleven?”

Gale looked a little forlorn as he released Hope from his embrace, stepping back towards the table. Hugh pulled his sister into his side, a bright smile on his lips as Schwarz took the photo.

Back at the table, Hope slipped into her seat beside Gale, his arm draping over her shoulder as they got comfortable. Ruth sent her a bright smile from her position on John’s lap, and soon the group’s conversation picked back up, laughter filling the air once more. This continued for a little while longer, but when Dye made his way over with Lil under his arm, there was a shift in the air.

It was almost unnoticeable at first.

Ruth chuckled under her breath, watching John take a drag of his cigarette across the table and point to Dye as he neared the group. “There’s our very own Charlie Robertson!”

She’d moved back to her own chair when he got up to get her another ginger beer. Ruth learned her lesson with alcohol after waking up with a raging migraine the morning following John’s birthday party.

“Charlie? Who’s Charlie?” Lil asked, trailing behind Glen and smiling at John as she passed him on his way back to Ruth.

“Not me,” Hugh snickered, sipping his whiskey with a grimace. The British liquor was nothing compared to the ‘good ole American stuff,’ as he called it. In his footlocker sat an unopened bottle of VAT-69 he was saving for his own 25th mission.

No one else thought anything was wrong with the alcohol, but Hugh just had his particular taste and he stuck to that.

“1922. White Sox at Tigers. No runs, no hits, no errors,” John answered, his hand gesturing in the air with each word before sinking into the chair beside Ruth. He kissed her on the cheek quickly, scooting his seat closer to her until their shoulders touched and she wrapped her arm around his bicep, whispering into his ear.

“He threw the last perfect game, right?”

“Sure did,” he grinned, shooting her a wink. “Way to go, Slugger.”

Benny nodded from beside Hope and Gale, not having heard the blonde. “Yeah, he’s the last guy to throw a perfect game.”

“Til’ now!”

“You get to go home before Florida?” Jack asked, but the conversation soon Ruth faded as she turned her gaze to John with a fond smile. She traced the outline of his face, her eyes trailing over the dark pink scars from Regensburg, the slope of his nose, his mustache, and the natural pout of his lips…the soft lips she’d kissed dozens of times. The warmth of his touch seeped through her uniform, and a feeling of contentment washed over her.

Over the last week, the couple exchanged multiple letters corresponding about the party and how each was doing, but John mainly raved about how much he liked his birthday present.

‘Doll, I think I’m hooked…’ John wrote two days after the party.

She was broken from her inner dialogue when the toothy grin on John’s face suddenly fell, and Ruth’s heart jolted in concern as she became aware of the hush that fell over the group

“We’re all that’s left, aren’t we?”

At Glen’s question, her eyes quickly scanned those around them and found that all the airmen shared the same pained and exhausted look. Curt’s smiling face flashed in her mind…a reminder of the sacrifices of the heroes from the 100th.

Hope’s wandering eyes met Ruth’s across the table, and she sent her a weary frown at the way the lively men quieted, each lost in their thoughts.

Blakely spoke first, breaking the silence that fell over the group “12 crews out of-”

“35 that flew in from Greenland,” Crank finished.

With his lips in a tight line, Bucky nodded solemnly. “That’s right.”

Ruth reached out, her free hand finding John’s atop his chair’s armrest, squeezing it gently. He didn’t meet her gaze, but she felt him deflate slightly beside her just before Gale began to speak.

“We’re just happy for you, Dye.”

“That’s right. We are,” John added, his voice deepening as he raised his glass. “Very happy for you. Very happy.”

Glen held out his drink to the group. “And to all the fellas that aren’t here tonight, who should’ve been.”

The table broke out into quiet mumbles of agreement as they all lifted their glasses in a toast before tipping them back. Ruth’s ginger beer fizzed as it traveled down her throat, and beside her, John downed the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, unfazed. She watched him stare at the tabletop in front of them for a few seconds until Dye’s voice filled the air.

“Gentlemen…and ladies, I’m gonna go check on the boys, make sure they aren’t celebrating too hard without me.”

As he walked away with Lil tugged against his side, John’s eyes followed them and he pointed in their direction, muttering, “Charlie Robertson,” under his breath.

The jovial atmosphere from before shattered as the group remained quiet despite the raging party around them. And to think…John’s day had started off so well, had gone off without a hitch until that very moment.

He got to see Ruth, and Dye made it back from his 25th Mission, but as Bucky leaned back in his chair, he couldn’t help but be bothered by all the new faces and the lack of old ones.

Even Ruth’s presence beside him wasn’t enough to quell the rising anger and frustration that swirled in his stomach when he thought of the numbers.

Out of 35 crews that flew in from Greenland, only 12 remained.

120 men out of 350…230 gone in the matter of a few months.

‘Will we all just be another number? Another crew marked off the list until replacements come and fill the huts like we never existed in the first place?’

These questions floated in his mind while his gaze stayed on the empty glass in front of him. “I’m, uh, gonna get another drink. I’ll be back,” he announced quickly, rising from his chair and turning toward the bar. Ruth’s anxious eyes followed him before she glanced back at Hope.

Buck watched him go with a pang of concern and kissed Hope on the temple, promising his return before he got up and followed after his friend. The women shared a knowing look as they watched the men they loved disappear into the crowd. Seemingly following their Majors, the rest of the men got up and trailed after them a few minutes later, leaving Hope and Ruth alone at the table.

“I’m worried,” Ruth muttered, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “What happens if John or Gale don’t make it back one-”

Hope cut her off quickly and moved to sit beside her. “Hey. They’re going to be fine, Rue. Before long, we’re gonna be celebrating their 25th mission, alright?”

“Alright,” she whispered as her gaze fell to the table.

The dance floor cleared over the next few minutes, and just a few couples remained dancing. In the middle of the floor was Helen, wrapped up in the arms of an airman they’d never seen before. Wide grins grew on their faces as they watched her place a few kisses against the dark-headed stranger’s jawline. Over his shoulder, Helen’s eyes wandered to the two women sitting alone, and Ruth smiled, giving her a thumbs up as Hope winked at her.

Feeling someone’s gaze on her, Hope scanned the room, meeting the familiar but concerned blues of Gale across the room from where he leaned against the bar beside John. They talked to yet another new airman the girls had never met, but even she could see the grimace on Bucky’s face as he leaned closer to the man, gesturing his hands out.

She glanced over at Ruth who thankfully was too busy tidying up the mess the men left before returning her eyes to her fiancée. In the few seconds she’d looked away, the replacement airman disappeared, and the two Majors stood alone.

“Come on, Rue. Let’s rejoin the party, shall we?” Hope asked, rising to her feet and offering Ruth her hand with a forced smile.

She knew something was up with John. She could tell by Gale’s body language alone.

The blonde took her hand, allowing Hope to lead them towards the men. But just as they passed Helen and the dancing soldier, Colonel Harding and Major Bowman stepped through the doors and sauntered over the bar, a fat cigar hanging from Chick’s lips.

“My boys!”

Not wanting to interrupt, the women stood on the outskirts of the group, moving to stand beside Tatty, even though both Buck and Johnny sent them a questioning look. Ruth scanned Bucky’s face, but her smile fell when she immediately noticed the line between his brows and the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Listen up! I just had a mood-killing conversation with Doc Stover. He thinks you sissies could be getting flack happy.”

“No, not us, sir,” the airmen chorused.

“I told him war is war. The longer you go at it, the more it screws a man up. And it’s been that way since the first caveman son of a bitch picked up a club and went after the other. Did cavemen go for head-shrinking?”

As the men shook their heads, Ruth and Hope shared a wary glance.

Where was this going?

“No! Damn sure not! What counts is that you soldiers show up ready and able to fight. What you do between battles…” Harding trailed off with a chuckle, smirking as he took a drag of his cigar.

Hope watched as Buck remained stoic, no reaction on his face, but John looked over at Ruth, sending her a wink. “I like your style, sir!”

For the first time, Bucky’s wink didn’t make her heart skip a beat…it made it drop into her stomach. His grin was so clearly forced that her mind went haywire, and he was the only thing she could focus on. Sensing the blonde finally picked up on John’s demeanor, Hope silently intertwined their hands, squeezing Ruth’s reassuringly.

Red broke his silence, shaking his head slightly as he spoke. “Aerial combat like this hasn’t been around since the caveman, sir.”

“Of course not, Red. Every war has its novelties,” Harding dismissed the Major, turning to look at the dance hall. A few seconds later, his demeanor changed, and his voice grew serious. “Who the hell decorated this fiesta?”

Everyone looked around the group before Jack hesitantly spoke. “I put together a committee, sir.”

Craning their heads to see around the Colonel, the women confusedly searched the hall for what he possibly could be upset about, but had no such luck.

“The damned plane looks like it’s in a nosedive.”

The sound of chuckles filled the air as John grinned over at Ruth. “Fire ‘em. Fire the committee…Ruth can decorate next time.”

She did her best to smile back at him, but it was just as forced as the grin on his lips.

“I won’t bother next time,” Kidd muttered.

Harding seemed to move on and faced the men again, waving them all closer. “Come on, get in. Come here. Got something to tell ‘ya.”

Hope and Ruth stepped forward, watching the Colonel over Tatty’s shoulder, their eyes moving between their Majors and the CO.

“You know how we could end this whole thing tonight?” Chick asked, his face scrunched into a half-grimace as he leaned into the group. “We fill up one of our forts with as many 500-pounders as she can hold, we bomb the hell out of Hitler’s hidey-hole.”

The grin on Johnny’s face fell, and he tilted his face to the floor with slightly pursed lips for a moment before returning his gaze to Harding. His forced smiles and strained banter only added to the underlying tension in the room. Ruth’s fingers tightened around Hope’s hand, seeking reassurance as Chick continued.

“I’m sure Red and Bubbles could locate that mustachioed little fucker.”

Bubbles grinned proudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, now who’s flack happy?”

The second the words left John’s mouth, Ruth’s heart plummeted, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She held her breath waiting for what would happen next.

What happened in the last few minutes to change his attitude completely?

All the officer’s went silent, shooting each other worried looks while Bucky and Harding stared at each other.

“Who?”

“You are,” John nodded, his expression bearing no trace of any amusement.

Harding smirked, “You are.”

“No, you are,” Egan leaned forward, thwacking Harding’s chest with his hand. “Sir.”

The next few seconds seemed to stretch on for hours as the atmosphere became even more tense, the room seeming to hold its breath. Gale quickly glanced over at Hope, his eyes filled with concern, much like the rest of the officers. The blonde beside her didn’t notice Buck, unable to tear her eyes away from John, who looked like he was teetering on the edge of an outburst.

The Major and the Colonel stared at each other until a smirk broke out on Chick’s face and he chuckled, the rest of the group following suit when the tension eased.

“Mmm, Single fillies. Come on, boys. Let’s get the lead out!” Harding smirked, taking a drag from his cigar, and left the party with Red trailing behind him.

The officers dispersed out onto the dance floor, leaving John, Gale, Hope, Ruth, and Benny at the bar.

Gale turned to catch Hope’s eye, his face saying ‘hold on while I talk to him’. Hope nodded in agreement, catching Ruth’s arm and leading her away from their men.

“What about John?” Ruth looked hastily over her shoulder for him, meeting his conflicted eyes momentarily, but Hope pulled her on.

“Gale’s going to talk to him, it’ll be okay. They’ve been through a lot, remember? It’s bound to catch up with them all at some point, and we just need to be here to help them if they fall.” Hope led her back to the table, sitting her down and placing the glass of ginger beer in front of her.

Hope hated watching Ruth’s worried eyes keep darting back toward the boys, but she knew that her own eyes kept drifting back to Gale’s. If this evening had taught her anything, it was that life was more precious than they could ever realize, and each moment should be cherished.

They needed a distraction from their anxieties, and Hope blurted the first story that came to mind.

“Do you remember that day when you were new to the Grove and you walked in on Frank naked?”

The blonde’s cheeks immediately heated up as she buried her head in her hands, “How could I forget? I’d only known the man for three days.”

Hope laughed too, “Well, it could be worse. On my first day on base, he nearly ran me over with a jeep. That was before he realized I was on his plane. He bought me a beer that same evening to apologize.”

Ruth laughed, imagining a younger Hope giving Frank hell for trying to run her down.

“We had a medical technician on our plane with us back then. Joseph was his name. He was a right pretty boy…thought he was the bee's knees but I soon told him otherwise.”

Ruth chuckled, knowing Hope probably gave the poor boy hell. It was strange thinking back to when they first came to the Grove, the airbase that had quickly become their home and safe haven.

“It seems like a lifetime ago that I met you, Hope. I thought you hated me at first.”

“Oh, I didn’t hate you…I just thought you weren’t going to make it,” Hope replied honestly, feeling slightly guilty about how she’d misjudged her best friend. “You soon proved me wrong though, Rue. You’re a good nurse.”

Hope looked up as Gale approached them, smiling brightly at her while John still stood near the bar still looking quite somber. Ruth stood up, quickly excusing herself as she made her way over to the bar, resting her hand against John’s arm.

“Hey,” she whispered, her blue eyes filled with worry. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand and tug him to the door.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she finally asked when they excited the club into the English night, her voice soft with concern.

John pursed his lips and a flicker of hesitation crossed his features before he shrugged. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

“John,” Ruth urged, her voice hardening as she gave him the look that always made her students squirm in their seats.

And her tone…it was only used when dealing with problem students, the ones who lied directly to her face when she already knew the truth.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “I’m fine.”

“What was that, then?” Ruth pressed, refusing to let it go. She needed to know exactly what was wrong…needed to help him in whatever way she could.

But how could he tell her the truth?

He could go down the next day and it would be like he never was there in the first place. Gone like the 230 men they’d lost.

How was he supposed to tell the woman he loved that she could lose him in the blink of an eye?

That he could lose her just the same?

That he couldn’t write another life-shattering letter to a boy’s family?

His nervousness to confess his feelings was replaced with guilt, anger, and frustration that compounded in his chest, creating a volatile mixture that was bound to explode.

“Nothing,” he insisted, his tone growing defensive. “Like I said.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Ruth pleaded as she grasped his hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know-”

The flood he’d been trying to hold back finally broke, and his voice raised just a fraction as he pulled his hand from hers. “Damn it, Ruth. I said I’m fine!”

The sharpness of his tone caught the woman off guard, and she recoiled slightly, blinking furiously to hold back the tears threatened to fill her eyes. “I’m just trying to help,” she whispered.

Without another word, she turned and walked back into the dance, leaving Bucky standing there in the chilly night. His hands moved to his hips as his chest heaved, the anger slowly leaving his body and morphing into guilt as his mind replayed her baby blues shining with tears and the tremble in her voice.

He was supposed to be a better man, someone worthy of her, and what did he do at the first chance?

Despite the mix of emotions within him, Johnny knew she was only trying to help, only trying to be there for him, and he’d raised his voice at her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before following after her, his heart pounding in his chest.

Pushing open the door and stepping inside, the sounds of the party filled Bucky’s ears, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care that the band played ‘Blue Skies’. His eyes scanned the bustling club and caught a glimpse of her blonde hair disappearing into the women’s bathroom.

John hesitated where he stood in the middle of the club, lost and unsure of what to do next. He knew he needed to talk to her, to make things right, but he also didn’t want to intrude on her privacy. Frustratingly running a hand over his mouth, he caught sight of Gale on the dance floor where he swayed slowly with Hope. Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced in the direction Ruth had gone over Hope’s shoulder. With a nod of his head, he silently urged Johnny to go after her.

It was the push that he needed to make a decision.

Swallowing thickly, he approached the bathroom door and knocked, his knuckles rapping against the wood gently. “Ruthie, can I come in?”

His heart sank when he heard sniffles from inside.

“Please,” John murmured softly, his voice barely audible through the door.

A few seconds ticked by and he was about to ask again when the door clicked open, giving him a view of her reddened and splotchy face. Ruth backed up, allowing him to slowly push in the door. She stood before him with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, barely meeting his gaze as her eyes remained on the floor. John silently stepped into the room and closed the door behind him gently, muffling the sounds of the party outside.

They stood there silently for a few moments until Ruth finally looked up at him, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek as she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling her softly into his chest, running a hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry, doll. So sorry.”

Ruth stiffened for a moment before relaxing against him, burying her face into his chest.

“I’m not mad at you. I just,” he sighed against her hair. “I hate myself for making you upset. I know you’re just trying to help me.”

She lifted her head from his chest and broke her silence, her voice wavering. “Then talk to me.”

John stared at her for a moment, running his fingers through her hair gently as he thought of a way to explain what he felt…the weight he felt on his shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Ruth,” he muttered, his face tilting to the ground.

“I don’t care,” the nurse answered quietly, reaching up and gently lifting his face to meet her teary gaze. "Just…just please don’t shut me out.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence as Bucky nodded to himself with his lips pulled into a tight line. When he finally found the words, his voice was barely audible as he fought to keep his composure.

“You heard Crank earlier. We’ve lost so many boys, and I-,” he cleared his throat, looking over her shoulder at the wall while fighting the burning sensation in his eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Ruth’s heart broke at his confession, and she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to her, their foreheads pressing together.

“John, you are going to get through this. We are going to get through this,” Ruth whispered. “I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere. You can talk to me, alright?”

He released a shuddering breath against her face, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he savored the feeling of her warm touch. The three words he’d been meaning to say all night danced on the tip of his tongue but refused to pour from his lips.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I-”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she interrupted, her thumb caressing his cheekbone lightly. “I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you. You make me so happy, Johnny.”

Bucky raised his hand to cover her much smaller one on his cheek as he sent her a soft smile. “I should be the one thanking you. You…you mean everything to me, Ruth. Everything. And I’m so sorry for talking to you like-”

“Just kiss me,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips.

John immediately obeyed, tilting his head to connect their lips softly, their worries fading away as they lost themselves in each other. Ruth’s hands slid from his face to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss with an eagerness he’d never seen from her before. He fought against every instinct in him urging him to take things farther, but she deserved more than that…they both did.

As they pulled away from the kiss, they remained wrapped in the other’s arms, their breaths mingling in the air between them. John’s gaze softened as he looked into Ruth’s eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He noticed the remnants of tears still clinging to her lashes, her eyes red and puffy, and his hand raised to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I’m getting a weekend pass to London,” he said breathlessly, nervously peering down at her. “Come with me.”

Ruth grinned and pecked his lips again softly. “I’d want nothing more.”

In that moment, with Ruth in his arms, John Egan vowed London would be the place…would be the time he’d confess his love for her.

How he couldn’t imagine life without her.

London…it would be the place that everything changed.

Monday, September 20th: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 0700 HRS: 7 AM

Hope let out a long sigh as the C-47’s wheels left the runway in one swoop, rising above the airstrip and leaving the base far below them as they climbed into the clouds. Frank talked quietly to Bill in the cockpit, and both girls couldn’t help but smile at their pilot's antics. He was a good pilot, but as a mentor, he was a hard task-master, and Bill was being put through his paces. Ruth pulled John’s latest letter from her pocket, rereading his words with a small smile.

September 17th My Ruth, Hey, slugger. I hope you’ve had a good few days. Have your runs been okay? Has Frank been nice to you? You know I won’t hesitate to rough him up if not. I have been unable to keep my mind off of you…as usual. Schwarz developed the pictures from the party yesterday, and I’ve found myself staring at our photo for longer than I’d like to admit. You’re just so beautiful…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on…have I told you that? Schwarz also gave each Buck and Hugh individual pictures of them with Hope. I’m pretty sure Buck is sending copies of the letter he’s writing from his bunk. You’ll find one of us in this envelope, as well. I’m sure you’ll love it just as much as I do. I keep my copy in my breast pocket, next to my heart so you’ll be with me everywhere I go. When I start to spiral, I just look at you and your smiling face, and I remember what all this is for. Every day I ask myself how I got so lucky that you landed on my base out of the hundreds scattered around England, and after months of wondering, I still have no explanation. All I know is that I kiss the lucky cross around my neck every time I leave and come back from a mission, thanking Mrs. Virginia Morgan that I made it back to the ground…back to you. I still can’t believe you wouldn’t take it back, Ruthie, but I promise to keep it safe until you’re ready to. I can’t wait to take you to London, doll. Did your CO approve your leave? I can try to pull some strings if she doesn’t. Maybe I could give her a call and use my charm to convince her? What do you think? Stay safe up there for me, alright? Yours Completely, John Egan P.S. The Yankees swept the Athletics in their series, keeping their 9-game win streak alive. We’ve got the American League in the bag! What do I always say? The Yankees always end on top! Remember that, doll. You’ll be hearing it a lot after we win the World Series next month.

Both women received letters from their Majors late the night before and immediately wrote their responses, promising to send them the following morning. But when they were called up for a run before dawn, both dashed to the post room before hurrying back to ‘The Angel.’

“So how is the hotshot then?” Hope asked with a grin, amused by Ruth’s embarrassed expression, her pale cheeks blushing deeply.

“How do you know I call him that?” Ruth asked curiously, but Hope just shook her head with a chuckle.

“Ruth, you've read his letters out loud enough times when I’m around that I’ve basically read them myself.” The blonde nodded slowly, half listening to Hope and the other half of her too engrossed in John’s words as she reread them again. After a few moments, she looked up from the letter.

“I wrote to my parents about John the other day,” Ruth called out over the engine’s whine, a fond smile on her lips.

“Oh yeah?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah.”

“What all did you tell them?” Hope asked with a raised brow.

Ruth’s innocent smile turned into a mischievous smirk as she chuckled to herself. “Well, my Mama always reads the letters, so I wrote the basics for her to tell my Dad and Jamie, but gave her all the details.”

“John’s right,” she laughed. “You are a sneaky woman.”

Shrugging, Ruth pulled out the picture he sent from her pocket, her heart fluttering as she studied it, tracing the lines of John’s face on the small photo. She was glad to finally have a piece of Johnny to carry around with her, being able to whip it out whenever she missed him or just wanted to see his handsome face.

The plane rocked from side to side as they gained altitude, and the large metal bird flew ‘through the ‘gate’ as Frank liked to call it as she moved to full throttle, soaring up into the clouds.

“Stop being a clot,” Frank hissed to Bill, flicking a few switches in the cockpit with a long sigh, “You know what you’re doing kid, but shit, try using your head sometimes okay?”

“Yes Sir,” Bill nodded shyly, turning his attention back to the plane's control panel. The girls smiled at each other, listening to the two men bickering in the cockpit

“Where do you think the boys are right now?” Ruth asked, looking up nervously at Hope. She always worried when she thought of where their men could be. The thought of them in harm's way made her sick to the stomach.

Were they flying like girls were? Were they in danger?

Hope slouched in her seat as the plane leveled out, “I don’t know, Rue. I’d like to think that they’re at Thorpe Abbotts. Hugh’s probably getting into some sort of trouble or terrorizing poor Harry Crosby. John is probably having some coffee with his whiskey about now at breakfast.” This caused Ruth to laugh lightly at the thought of John’s usual morning routine.

“What about Gale?”

Hope took a little longer to reply this time. “I think Gale would… well I don’t know. He’s probably either eating breakfast with John, walking Meatball, or he’s with his baby.”

“His baby?” Ruth sputtered, cocking her head and looking at her friend for the answer.

“His Fort, ‘Our Baby’,” Hope laughed, watching as Ruth nodded, understanding the men’s attachment to their Forts. She guessed they all felt the same way about their own plane, although Ruth thought if she never had to fly again it would be a blessing.

The pair soon fell into silence, both organizing their mussette bags for the hundredth time, as if they hadn’t checked all their supplies pre-flight. Hope moved up to the cockpit to check in with the pilots while Ruth moved along the racks of supplies, laying out fresh blankets on each cot, humming an Artie Shaw song to herself as she went.

“How’s it going up here, boys?” Hope leant over Frank’s shoulder, watching as the cloudy sky unfolded before them.

“Can’t complain,” Frank replied plainly. “I think Billy Boy here is getting the hang of things at last.” The young pilot grinned at the compliment and Hope couldn’t help the sense of pride that filled her chest. They’d had several copilots training with Frank, but Bill was definitely the girl's favorite.

Looking back out the window, Hope pointed towards the dark clouds erupting ahead of them.

“Hey Frank, what’s that up ahead? That’s not what I think it is…right?”

“That, my dear Hope, is flak fire,” he said regretfully. “Looks like we’re heading to the movies. I suggest you girls grab a seat…Ruth may want a blindfold for this next part.”

Hope swallowed, nodding quickly before rushing back to her seat. Bill talked quickly to Frank in the cockpit but remained calm, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t been through before.

Ruth’s fearful eyes widened as Hope explained what Frank had told her before swiftly strapping herself into her seat. Her mind raced at all the terrible outcomes that could occur.

What happens if they go down?

What would happen if they just blew up over Germany?

She tried to put on a brave face but she knew Hope would see right through it, she always did.

The plane swerved as flak erupted around them, swooping and diving as the black clouds and wuffs from the Ack-Acks flew wildly around them. Hope and Ruth were thrown around in their seats as the plane swerved, flack bursts shaking the bird. They were very grateful that they always secured all their supplies and stretchers down pre-flight.

Hope’s fingers dug into the metal seat and her eyes closed as her stomach flipped in circles with each turn. She’d not had any issues with her motion sickness since her training, but the urge to vomit up her breakfast only grew as the bile rose in the back of her throat.

Ruth opposite from her was as white as a sheet, her already pale face now the color of a corpse with her lips set in a thin worried line. Her teeth clenched tightly together and her eyes squeezed shut as flack pierced through the plane's fuselage above her head.

“Shit!” Ruth shrieked, covering her head with her hands.

“You okay, Rue?” Hope shouted over the noise of the war around them. A glossy-eyed and panting Ruth only nodded quickly in response.

Bullets ripped through the riveted sheets of the fuselage with a series of metallic pings, piercing through easily and sending metal flying into the cabin like confetti. With the chaos surrounding them, Ruth barely noticed when a piece of shrapnel flew past her face, just grazing her temple. Flak fire continued to blast in the air surrounding the skytrain and the noise was deafening to everyone inside.

How could anyone think strategically in these conditions?

“OH FUCK!” Frank’s voice shouted from the cockpit as he leaned over to Bill, “Stay with me, kid.” Bill’s lifeless body lay wide-eyed staring straight ahead, his young face frozen, expressionless. “DAMMIT!”

“What’s wrong, Frank?” Hope called out as she unbuckled herself and stumbled from her seat, edging her way towards him.

Ruth’s eyes widened. “Hope! What are you doing?!”

She simply sent her a worried glance, seeing the blood trickling down Ruth’s cheek before disappearing from view, and the blonde stared at her in disbelief. When another burst sent burning hot metal through the plane’s fuselage around her, Ruth’s eyes clenched shut, her head bowing as she mumbled a prayer for them, her hand instinctively reaching up for her usual comfort… her necklace….her lucky necklace that now hung around the neck of John Egan.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

In the cockpit, Frank didn’t turn to face Hope when he spoke, his eyes trained on the incoming fire from the Messerschmitts flying in all directions around them.

“We have been fucked by the fickle finger of fate and today is not our day. We’re down to one engine and she isn’t sounding too healthy. We’re littered with holes and,” he paused, his throat constricting as he motioned to the young boy who lay dead beside him. “And the Krauts…they got Billy.”

The plane juddered and smoke poured from the remaining engine with a horrendous screech as Frank took a steadying breath. The next words to leave his lips sent a shiver down Hope’s spine.

They were the ones every airman, flight nurse, and pilot prayed they’d never have to hear…

“There goes the last engine. We’re going down!”

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