#//what's going on is that he's thorpe right now
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trick or treat!! :3
hey, that's... w- whatever! haha, trick or treat!!!!
trick or treat, fufu...~!
hehe, trick or treaaat!! ☆〜(ゝ。∂)
trick or treat!!!
- 🎀⭐️🤖🎶🦊 (@protector-utahime-miku)
Hello..? Nice costumes, they look very realistic. I like the dragon one, he's very handsome.
#🎹 speaks#asks!☆#//if you don't know what's going on#//what's going on is that he's Thorpe right now#//👍
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Yearning (noun): a strong feeling of wishing for something, especially something that you cannot have or get easily.
#wednesday#wednesday netflix#wednesday addams#xavier thorpe#wenvier#otp: ravens mate for life#we're really going through it right now kids#also you have to have respect for xavier#he probably never intended for her to see the painting#but he still took the chance to shoot his shot anyway#if this wasn't basically a love confession i don't know what is#boy offered her his heart#and she couldn't run away from him fast enough#even though wednesday NEVER runs away from anything#because she doesn't know what to do with the feelings he evokes in her#and that unsettles her more than anything#they're so endgame coded
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You want my jacket?
John Egan X W.A.C! Reader
Summary: Y/n wants Bucky's jacket, but they have a little competition before...
Warning: Swearing/ sport inaccuracies (Wikipedia stats)/ use of Y/n/ flirting/ mention of erection/ kiss/ sexism (little bit)
Word count: 1.1k
The music was loud, Y/n and her friends made their way through the room, it was a party in their honor, and someone’s 25th mission. The W.A.C division Y/n was in just got transferred to Thorpe Abbotts. Y/n was a weather broadcaster, she was going to brief the men on the conditions they were going to fly. She liked her job, sure it was boring sometimes, but she got the insight on big mission and her job was important. She felt like she was truly having an impact on the war, not a big one, but still.
When John Egan learned that W.A.C were coming on the base, he was like every man on the base; excited. Unlike Buck, he didn’t have anyone to write to at home, he was single and loved woman! When his eyes stopped on Y/n, he knew that he needed to talk to her. Her uniform fitted her so good; her curves were highlighted, and he always loved woman with curves. So, when he walked up to her, he was a little nervous, but he tried to hide it.
‘’Hello ladies’’ he said, looking at all the woman, then he looked at the one he wanted. ‘’Hi, I’m Major John Egan, but please call me Bucky, what’s your name, gorgeous?’’ he flirted. Y/n blushed and hid a giggle. ‘’I’m Y/n, nice to meet you’’ she extends her hand for him to take. The other girls were a giggling mess. When Bucky took her hand, she felt something pass through them, maybe she was just nervous, but it felt weird. They went to sit at a table and Bucky ordered drinks. ‘’So, Y/n, what are you doing here?’’ he asked, looking at her. ‘’I’m the new weather broadcaster, so we’re going to see each other a lot’’ she flirted. Words of his reputation had got to Y/n’s ears, when the Colonel briefed them on the attitude of the men at the base, the woman were warned about Major Egan. Y/n was curious to see if his reputation was true. ‘’You’ll be Miss Sunshine?’’ he asked, with a grin on his face. ‘’Exactly, but with this English weather, I’ll be Miss Cloud, Rain and Fog’’ she joked. He laughed at her joke, he always thought English weather was shit. ‘’Maybe your presence will bring more sun over the base’’ he took a sip of his drink. Y/n tilted her head, before taking a sip of her drink.
‘’I highly doubt that, but hey I’ll probably die of cold, you on the other hand, you’re going to be okay with that beautiful jacket’’ she smiled. He looked at his jacket, then looked at her. ‘’You like my jacket?’’ he asked, with a crooked eyebrow. She nodded as she finished her drink. ‘’Yeah, they didn’t give us any jacket, they didn’t have the money for us’’ she chuckles. A wicked idea came to her mind, she was a fan of baseball, so was he… ‘’Okay, what about a quiz, on the subject of your choice, if I win, I get your jacket, if you win, what do you want if you win?’’ she says. ‘’I want a kiss’’ he grins. ‘’Then if you win, you’ll get your kiss. You in?’’ she asked. He nodded and called Curt, he was a fan of baseball and knew the Yankees. ‘’I’m on, and by the way, I hope your baseball knowledge is good, you know the Yankees, sunshine?’’ he teased. He was 100% sure he was going to win; nobody knew baseball as good as him, but that’s what he thought. Y/n was grinning like a devil, she was getting that jacket!
‘’Ok, last question since you’re both equal in points, Spud Chandler broke the record for what this season?’’ Curt asked. Y/n thought for a second and then took the apple, it was their buzzer. ‘’Y/n?’’ the room went silent; money was changing hands around the bar. Their little competition was the main entertainement right now, soldiers couldn’t believe that someone knew baseball better than Bucky. ‘’ Lowest earned run average in a season’’ she said, smiling. Curt pushed his tongue on his cheek before looking at other guys. ‘’That’s right, you officially win!’’ He exclaimed, making the woman and some guy’s cheer for her. Bucky’s jaw was on the floor, that woman knew baseball, was supporting the Yankees and she just beat him. Now he had to give her his jacket! Bucky looked at the woman, she was smiling proudly. He smiled as he shook his head. He went closer to her. ‘’Let’s get out of here, sunshine’’ he said, she nodded, and they went outside.
‘’How come you know that much about baseball?’’ he asked. They started to walk around the base. ‘’Weather girl wasn’t my original plan, I wanted to be a sport reporter, but because I’m a woman, it’s impossible, but I know a lot about sports’’ she explained. He thought he was dreaming; this woman was surreal. ‘’That was really impressive, even though you beat me, it was amazing’’ he said, he truly meant it, he was in awe before her. ‘’Thank you, but I think you owe me something’’ she grins. Bucky rolls his eyes before taking his precious jacket off. ‘’Take care of it’’ he said, before giving it to her. ‘’Can you help me put it on?’’ she asked. Her back was facing him, he helped her put the jacket on, smelling her perfume properly for the first time. She smelled good, too good, it was going to be stuck in his mind now. Seeing her in his jacket kina turned him on, he didn’t know why, but it was a problem. ‘’Thank you, Major’’ she smiled proudly. ‘’I wish I could say it's my pleasure, but that would be a lie’’ he said, laughing to hide his pain. Y/n giggled as they continued their walk.
‘’That’s me, I have to go to bed early. I’m waking up at 0500 tomorrow I have to do my job’’ she smiles. Bucky nods quickly, expecting her to walk to her building, but she stays in front of him. ‘’Since we were equal, it’s only fair that you get your part of the bet’’ she says. Before he could process what she meant she quickly kiss him on the lips. By the time he acknowledges what just happened, she’s already at the door. ‘’Good night, Bucky, thanks for the jacket’’ she says, his name sounding like a prayer on her lips. ‘’Good night sunshine’’ he said. She blew him a kiss before entering the building, with his jacket on her. Yep, his problem was definitely growing more…
#callum turner#callum turner x reader#callum turner imagine#master of the air#john egan x reader#master of the air imagine#major john egan#john egan
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Hey could you do a g!p Enid x g!p Wednesday and fem reader smut where the Enid and Wednesday get jealous because reader what talking to a boy and not them with lots of after care pls :))
You belong to us
Thank you for asking
18+
Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair x F!Reader/vampire
Summary: Request
Warning: Wednesday g!p, Enid g!p, threesome, smut, blowjob, penetration, jealousy, mention of Xavier, dom!Wednesday, dom!Enid, sub!Reader
Number of words : 2280
Masterlist
3rd person POV: Y/n reads her book lying on her bed. It is currently 7 a.m. and the young vampire is waiting for her two roommates to wake up. Being a vampire, Y/n never sleeps. Her two roommates are Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams. The two girls have been a couple for a few months now. After the murders of Joseph Crackston and Marilyn Thornhill, Wednesday and Enid became a couple after returning to school. Fortunately for them, the school was brand new when they returned.
But unfortunately for Y/n, she has feelings for both girls. But since they are a couple, then she didn't say anything. And she is also the only one who knows their secret. They both have a cock. She caught them fucking in the bathroom. To say she was jealous is an understatement. Seeing them sleep every night in the same bed sticks. Y/n would have liked to be with them. But she knows that will never happen to her.
The young vampire continues reading when she hears someone moaning loudly. She knows without looking that it’s Enid. The young werewolf gets up from her bed.
“Good morning Y/n. » Enid says happily and gives Y/n a kiss on the cheek. Y/n blushes but remains calm so as not to let Enid notice anything. Enid always did her with Y/n. Every morning she received a kiss on the cheek from Enid. And she blushed every time. And strangely, Wednesday didn't seem jealous because she didn't say anything. Or maybe she's making a plan to kill Y/n.
“Good morning Enid. » Y/n responds, smiling slightly and returning to her book.
After 5 minutes of reading, Y/n hears mouth noises. Like two people kissing. She turns her head slightly and sure enough, Enid and Wednesday kiss. They are sideways so Y/n can see everything. Wednesday opens her eyes to make eye contact with Y/n. Y/n holds her breath unable to look at anything other than Wednesday's eyes staring at her. To tease the young vampire, Wednesday adds her tongue to the kiss, still staring at Y/n. Enid moaned slightly. Y/n would love to join them in fucking each other. After a few more seconds, Enid stops herself.
Enid goes to change in the bathroom and Wednesday stays in her place with a smirk on her face. Then, Wednesday also goes to change and comes out 1 minute later.
“Okay, let’s eat before we’re late for class.” » Enid says and Wednesday nods. Enid is about to open the door but notices that Y/n remains in her bed with her book. “Are you coming Y/n?” »
“Oh no go ahead I didn’t do that anyway. » Y/n replies with a small smile.
" All right. » Said Enid and she leaves the room. Wednesday looks at Y/n with an emotionless look.
“If you don't come and eat in 5 minutes, I will kill you in your sleep and feed your flesh to the pigs and use your bones as weapons. » Said Wednesday and leaves the room without letting Y/n say anything.
Y/n huffs and changes. She doesn't want to make Wednesday angry. But she doesn't understand why Wednesday acts like this. Y/n has the impression that the young girl with the black braids cares about the young vampire. But Y/n can't think like that, because Wednesday doesn't like her. She only loves herself and Enid.
Once changed, Y/n leaves the room and heads towards the stairs. Once down the stairs, she walks towards a table. Arriving at a table, someone grabs her forearm, she turns around and finds herself face to face with Xavier Thorpe.
Xavier has always loved Y/n. He's made lots of attempts to go out with Y/n and go on a date with her but he always gets turned down.
Xavier lets go of Y/n’s arm and moves a little closer to her. Y/n rolls her eyes.
“Please Y/n. Let me ask you out on a date. I promise you won't regret it. » Said Xavier with sparkling eyes.
Y/n was once again going to refuse Xavier's request but before she can say it, she sees Wednesday and Enid staring at her in the distance. Enid has the exit claws and looks like she's ready to slit Xavier's throat. And Wednesday has a look that sends chills down your spine. Her arms remain alongside her body and she does not blink. Y/n literally got goosebumps.
" Kiss Me. »
" I beg your pardon? »
“Kiss me Xavier, I accept your date. »
Xavier smiles with pride and places his hands on Y/n's cheeks.
“I promise you won’t regret it.” » Said Xavier and immediately places his lips on Y/n's.
The young vampire closes her eyes and wants to vomit. But before the kiss can go any further, Y/n feels a tug which causes her to withdraw from Xavier's hold. The person pulling her holds her wrist hard which hurts her. Y/n looks up and sees that it’s Wednesday dragging her and sees Enid walking right next to her with her claws still out.
“Ouch Wednesday you’re hurting me!” » Y/n complains but Wednesday puts even more pressure on Y/n's wrist.
“Enid goes to the principal and finds a way to make us miss class. » Orders Wednesday monotonously. Enid nods and leaves for the principal's office.
Arriving at the room, Wednesday closes the door and pushes Y/n onto her bed. She lays Y/n on her back and straddles her thighs.
“For the very first time in my entire life, I felt jealous. I never had that feeling with Enid. » Wednesday said through gritted teeth. “You are ours, do you understand? » Y/n nods not knowing what to say or do. “I said do you understand? » Wednesday repeats with a deeper voice and cupping Y/n's jaw.
" Yes I understood. » Y/n replies and she already feels herself getting wet.
“Me and Enid wanted to fuck you so bad. But we weren't sure so we didn't do anything. But when I saw you watching me kiss Enid, my cock got hard. » Y/n can't believe this is happening today. She's wanted Enid and Wednesday all to herself for so long and now her dream is coming true. “Are you ok for me and Enid to fuck you.” » asks Wednesday. Y/n nods. “I want words Cara Mia. » Wednesday adds, caressing Y/n's cheek with her index finger.
“Yes you can fuck me. » Y/n replies almost in a whisper and looks at Wednesday's lips before returning to her eyes. A smirk appeared on Wednesday's face. She leans down and gently places her lips on the vampire's. Y/n moaned at the coldness of young Addams' lips. She didn't expect them to be cold.
Wednesday takes her hand and puts it in Y/n's pants but without going into her panties and slowly caresses her pussy and can feel all the wetness.
“You’re so wet.” » Wednesday said, pulling away from Y/n's lips and smirking.
Enid enters the room and goes to the bed where the girls are already there.
“Hey don’t start without me.” » Enid said, pouting.
“Come here Cara Mia. » Wednesday said without breaking eye contact with Y/n. Enid immediately walks over to the bed and lies down next to Y/n and Wednesday.
“When I saw Xavier kiss you I wanted to slit his throat with my claws. » Enid says as the anger returns and her claws come out.
“Calm down Cara Mia. Now Y/n is with us and we're going to show her who she belongs to. » Wednesday responds and gently kisses Enid to calm her down while remaining straddling Y/n's thighs.
Enid calms down and smiles wickedly as she pulls away from the kiss. “Yeah we’ll show you who you belong to Y/n L/n.” And you certainly don't belong to this Xavier Thorpe. »
Y/n gulped. She had never seen Enid react like that before. But she was so wet that all she wants is to be fucked.
Wednesday moves off of Y/n's thighs to lay down next to her to leave her in the middle. Enid grabs Y/n’s jaw and turns her to kiss her. Y/n moaned slightly. Compare to Wednesday's, Enid's lips are warm and warm.
Meanwhile, Wednesday places her lips on Y/n's neck and kisses her gently. She runs her hands over Y/n's clothed body. After a few seconds, Wednesday begins to suck on Y/n's neck. The vampire moans and Enid takes the opportunity to enter her tongue into Y/n's mouth.
The goth unbuttons Y/n’s uniform without leaving her neck. Once removed, Wednesday can see Y/n's black bra and it makes her harden at the sight. Y/n has small breasts. Which is perfect for Wednesday.
The girl with black braids takes off Y/n's bra and sees her nipples harden from the cold. She cups one breast and places her lips on the other. She just sucks gently and massages the other one. Y/n continues to moan into Enid's mouth and places her hand on Wednesday's back.
Enid also takes off her uniform and bra. Wednesday does the same thing. Y/n almost drools seeing the two people she loves the most undressing in front of her.
“Do you like what you see? » Enid teases with a smirk.
" Such. » Y/n cups one of Enid's breasts and massages it. Enid moaned slightly.
Wednesday kisses all over Y/n's body as she moves down to find herself between Y/n's legs. She gently removes Y/n's pants and she is now in panties. The goth moans at the wet stain that ends up on the y/h/c girl's panties.
Wednesday sticks her tongue out and licks the fabric. Y/n moans and wraps her legs around Wednesday's head. The girl looks up with a deadly stare.
“You close your legs again, I’ll fuck you until you fall asleep. Understood? » Said Wednesday holding Y/n's legs
“Yes, understood. » Y/n replies, nodding. Seeing Wednesday like this with her is a real spectacle.
Wednesday removes Y/n's panties and without warning, she licks a large stripe from the hole to her clit. She moans at the taste and Y/n moans when Wednesday touches her clit with her warm tongue. Goth continues to make great bands.
Enid takes off her pants and boxers. Y/n moaned seeing how big and thick Enid's cock was.
" Open the mouth. » Enid orders and Y/n does exactly as she is told. She opens her mouth wide and Enid enters his cock in her mouth. Y/n closes her mouth and sucks Enid’s cock. She takes the base of the cock with her hand and continues to suck.
Wednesday stops eating Y/n and takes off her pants and boxers too. She leans over Y/n and positions her cock so it's on Y/n's vagina. She collects the y/h/c girl's juice and slowly enters her. Y/n moaned at Wednesday's size. The goth begins to sink into her slowly so as not to hurt her. And once she’s fully in, she waits for Y/n to adapt to the size. After a few seconds, Y/n moves her hips to tell Wednesday she's ready. Wednesday how to move back and thrust into Y/n.
Y/n moans but continues to suck Enid who manages to move her hips back and forth to help Y/n. She puts her hand in Y/n’s hair to make her move her head.
Wednesday still gets up while fucking Y/n and stands on her hands. With one hand, she cups Enid's jaw and turns her head to kiss her.
Y/n became a complete mess underneath Wednesday.
" I'm near. » Y/n cries with Enid's cock in her mouth and cries at the feeling of getting closer and at the pleasure she is having.
Wednesday pulls away from the kiss and looks at Y/n. “Wait a little longer, Cara Mia. » Wednesday orders and fucks Y/n even faster. She puts one of Y/n’s legs on her shoulder to help her go faster. Y/n moans so loud that some students can definitely hear her.
“You’re ours okay? I never want to see you kiss Xavier or anyone else again because you are ours and no one else's included. » Enid says as she fucks Y/n's mouth faster as she feels herself coming too.
" Yes I understand. I am yours and no one else. » Y/n replies with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Good girls Cara Mia. You can cum now. » Wednesday continues to fuck Y/n at a crazy speed and adds her fingers making quick circles on her clit to help her come.
Y/n moans and cums on Wednesday's cock. Wednesday slows down but continues to fuck her to help her high. Enid cums in Y/n's mouth which makes them both moan. Y/n swallows and Wednesday also cums inside Y/n which makes everyone moan again.
Wednesday slowly pulls out and Y/n moans emptily. The goth lays down next to Y/n and Enid lays down on the other side of the y/h/c girl.
“Do you want to be our girlfriend Y/n?” » Wednesday asks, stroking Y/n's stomach with her nails. “Yes I want to be your girlfriend. » Y/n replies with a tired smile.
The two girls smile with happiness. “Go to sleep my love, we’ll be there when you wake up. » Enid says and gives Y/n a kiss on the lips.
“Sleep well Cara Mia. I hope you have a pleasant nightmare. » Wednesday adds and gives Y/n a kiss too. The vampire laughs softly at Wednesday's sweet words and falls asleep peacefully between her two girlfriends. And without disappointing Wednesday, Y/n had lots of sweet dreams of her two wonderful girlfriends.
She can't believe that all she had to do was make them jealous.
#jenna marie ortega#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x fem!reader#wednesday x enid#emma myers#enid sinclair#g!p#wednesday addams#wednesday x fem!reader#threes0me
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Because the Night
The atmosphere in the pub was already in full swing by the time Major Bucky Egan led his group to the table Tommy saved for them.
“Jesus, it’s like those paratroopers never seen a woman before.” Curt wiped his uniform jacket, “They took one look at [y/n] and it was like Niagra Falls.”
Taking the seat Bucky held out for her, [y/n] thanked him as she sat.
“I think Ol’ Faithful Geyser at Yosemite might be a better choice Curt.” Buck replied taking a seat across from Bucky.
“Yeah, yeah whatever cowboy.” Looking at the expectant faces of Bucky and Buck, Curt sighed “Yes, Bucky I wouldn’t mind getting the drinks. Why thank you Buck, I am the kindest man in this bar.”
Ignoring Curt and Buck, Bucky leaned in closer to [y/n] watching the paratrooper across the bar tense. “So, who is he?”
Major Bucky Egan was not shocked that men looked at [y/n]. She was not only one of the few women around, but she was as pretty as a picture. And she knew it, hell it was on the reasons Bucky liked her. Her beauty caught his eye but her self assured nature drew him in. So while he didn’t love the looks men gave her in general, the look of recognition and remorse in this paratrooper in particular sent air raid sirens through his mind.
Twisting her earring with a sigh, [y/n] met Bucky’s inquisitive gaze. “My ex.”
Raising his eyebrows as if to ask for confirmation of what he just heard, [y/n] nodded to the brunette. From across the table Major Buck Clevens sat up straight as he watched the growing opposing demeanor of the pair. One that spoke of apathy while the other spoke of interest in the topic.
“Who we fightin’?” Dropping the drinks on the table, Curt rejoined the trio, “Bucky’s got that rabble rouser look on his face.”
“The ginger at 12 o’clock doing a shitty job at secretly surveying [y/n].” Buck drawled watching Bucky attempt to catch the ginger’s eye. Major Gale Clevens knew John Egan well enough to know when he was looking for a fight. Gale had seen John protective over his friends and his men, so he could only imagine what he would be like over his unofficial girl.
“No shit? Want me to fuck him up for you?” Turning around in his seat, Curt assessed the paratrooper and his friends. “There’s only four of them, we can easily take ‘em.”
[y/n] leaned back in her chair contemplating the situation she found herself in. Before she had walked into the bar, her biggest concern was how she was going to keep Bucky from serenading her tonight. But walking in and seeing her ex’s face and John’s reaction threw that concern right out of the window.
“While that is sweet of you Curt, no. It’s been two years, I’m long over him and if anyone should be scared, it should be him. I’m not the one who cheated.” Since their breakup, she hadn't put much thought into her ex or dating. And it certainly wasn’t because she was still in love with him. Rather the war broke out and she joined the WAC leaving her with little time or interest to date. Or that had been the case until Major John Egan swaggered his way onto Thorpe Abbotts base.
“That fucker… makes me wanna punch him more now.”
“If it makes you feel better Curt, I broke his nose when I found him cheating.”
“Atta girl.” Buck chuckled while sipping his ginger beer. He expected nothing less from the spitfire who stole his best friend’s heart.
“Didn’t you say you were getting harassing letters from an ex?” The arm that had been carelessly thrown over the back of her chair suddenly wrapped around [y/n]’s shoulder pulling closer to John.
“I was exaggerating, John. It was just a letter!” Placing her hand over his, [y/n] squeezed his hand in a silent plea. “Please don’t do anything stupid...” Looking for Buck for support, [y/n] was however, met with the profile of the blonde major.
Bucky chuckled as he watched [y/n]’s attempt to deter him. While he and Gale Clevens may have been opposites, Buck was a true friend. And true friends let other friends knock out the guy bothering his girl. “Won’t be considered anything stupid if it comes to you, sweetheart.”
Between the protective glint in his eyes and baritone voice, [y/n]’s heart began hammering in her chest. Grounding herself in the contrast of his rough hands against her softer ones, she was reminded of who Major John Egan was. “Look if he comes this way then you can be my knight in shining armor but right now can we just go back to flirting and listening to Curt rewrite a story about how amazing his flying is?”
Curt put hands up in defense. “Hey, I am amazing at flying and I don’t rewrite stories, I just…embellish them.”
Hooking an arm around Curt’s neck, Buck tapped a fist against Curt’s chest. “Oh embellish, what a big word for you Curt.”
Deciding that it had been far too long since he had her attention all to himself, John Egan tucked an escaped curl behind her ear before leaning in to whisper. “…So you are flirting with me, Lieutenant? Keep that up and someone might think you like me.”
The warmth of his body and the smell of his aftershave left her all but lightheaded. They had unofficially officially been an item since his second day at the base. When she decided to share her umbrella and laughter with the handsome hapless Major who lost the battle and a shoe to the English mud.
“Oh the horror Bucky…”
“Oh, calling me Bucky, you must really want me to do this for you.” Caressing her the inside of her wrist, John considered if tonight would be the night he could kiss her like he always wanted to. As a promise for it their last first kiss because the night belongs to lovers like them.
“I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you don’t start a bar brawl.” [y/n] supplied in response watching the smile light up across his face, knowing she had opened a can of worms. But she couldn’t say she regretted it; Bucky Egan was the sun and she basked under his warmth.
“Oh, with a request like that how can I say no?… for now.” Sharing in her laughter, John placed a lingering kiss on her cheek.
Sipping his whiskey, John turned back to the group and sought counsel on his new dilemma. “What do you think boys, handsome, the way to go? No, maybe I should go with pretty boy? No, too soft. Mhmm, how about my darling future husband? Now that has a nice ring to it!”
A/N: I apparently have a thing for hand holding... I appreciate any and all feedback!
#john egan x reader#bucky egan x reader#john egan x female reader#major john egan x reader#mota x reader#mota fanfic#john egan imagine#masters of the air imagine#john egan fanfiction
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do you think you could do #8 “Who did this to you?” From your reblog. Maybe like In the stalag when Bucky shows up and goes to give Gale a hug but Gale flinches away. Bucky is immediately worried and try’s to get Gale to spill but it doesn’t work. Blah blah blah, Bucky might see Gale interact with a guard and understands why. Idk take it your own way if you want 😅
Thank you for the prompt! 💕 Sorry for only getting to it now. I went with a different take, but I hope you like it!
8. Who did this to you?
After stumbling inside their quarters at Thorpe, Bucky tries to make his way to his bed blindly in the dark. He counts his steps to measure a distance he knows well by now, but the haze of booze makes his brain sluggish, and the numbers get all jumbled up. Nevertheless, he finds the frame of his cot, locates it with fumbling hands, and lets himself sink down on the mattress with a relieved sigh.
Except, it’s not his cot.
He lands on something simultaneously soft and bony, and gets kneed in the ribs so hard for it that he falls on his ass. Groaning, he gives in to gravity and goes limp on the floor.
"John?" Gale whispers somewhere above him. When Bucky grunts in response, one of their other roommates hisses a shut up their way. "What are you doing?"
"Sleeping." Bucky replies. He feels rather comfortable where he is. At least the room isn’t spinning. Down here, nothing wants to crawl back out of his stomach to show him exactly how much whiskey he poured down his throat to wipe their last mission from his memory.
Slim, warm hands pat at Bucky's chest, trying to locate his shoulders in the dark. When they find a good place to grip and try to pull Bucky up, Bucky turns his head and nips at Gale’s wrist.
"Come on, you big loony." Gale murmurs, completely ignoring the fact that Bucky's mouth is full of the cotton of his shirt. His teeth dig into Gale's arm. Out of curiosity, Bucky bites down harder, until Gale yanks his arm away with an annoyed huff.
"Son of a bitch." He swears under his breath, but a moment later, his hands return. They hook under Bucky's armpits to pull him up by force. "Up. On your feet, Major."
"Don’t want to." Bucky whines.
As soon as Gale gets him vertical, he starts moving to lie right back down, and finds the bed Gale has just vacated. It’s still warm from Gale’s body. He sinks into that heat with a smile, squirming until the dip Gale's body left in the mattress fits his own. Like coming home. His drunken mind imagines it would be just as comforting to climb inside Gale's body. To be one with him. Always welcome, always safe.
"All right." Gale's tired exhale brushes Bucky's ear as Gale leans over him and tugs the blanket out from under his body to drape it over him. Tucking him in like his mama would've. Or a wife.
"Should've left me on the floor." Bucky sniffs. The urge to cry makes his throat tight, but he holds it back. He’s a man, damn it.
"What kind of best friend would that make me, huh?" Gale murmurs softly. He’s so close still. His hands are on Bucky’s back and arm. He should lean in for a goodnight kiss, Bucky thinks. "Go to sleep, Bucky."
"'S your bed."
"You can borrow it tonight."
Fingers run through Bucky’s curls, a ghost of a touch, then there's nothing. Bucky turns his head into Gale's pillow because it smells like him. He falls asleep in a minute.
-
Morning arrives with a dull, heavy pain behind Bucky's eyes that he welcomes like an old friend. Most fellas get cranky when they're hungover, but it just makes Bucky feel alive. It seems as if fewer and fewer things do. Drinking. Singing, dancing, flirting. Gale.
Speaking of - Bucky should find him. Yes, that sounds like the perfect hangover cure. Getting teased by his best friend.
Still fully-clothed and wearing his boots, Bucky climbs out of bed - Gale's bed, he notes, sifting through his blurry memories from last night and coming up blank when he tries to explain it. He figures he might have tried to get in beside Gale, who thought it was better to just surrender his cot. Bucky ought'a thank him for not kicking him out to sleep on the floor.
He finds Gale by the small sink they all share, just finishing up with shaving. He’s stripped down to his undershirt and his hair is not yet slicked back with product but falls over his forehead in soft bangs. It makes him look younger. Pretty, even, if Bucky were being honest. He tries not to be though. Wouldn’t do him any good.
Grinning with all his charm, he walks up to Gale and leans on the wall beside him, his free hand in his pocket. "Hey, Buck."
"Morning." Gale says without looking away from the mirror, but there’s a small smile in the corner of his lips as he slides the blade over his skin.
Bucky has the strangest urge to offer to do the last few swipes for him. "Thanks for the bed."
"You’re welcome." Gale's voice is amused. Although there's a shadow of exhaustion under his eyes, he looks happy, so Bucky feels safe to joke around a bit.
When Gale rinses the blade and starts wiping his face, Bucky nudges him with his foot. In return, Gale flicks water at him, which tickles Bucky into a short laugh. For the first time this morning, Gale's blue eyes meet his and give him a playful look.
"You look like that chow they used to feed us back in Texas." There it is. The teasing.
Bucky grins. "Delicious, you mean?"
For a moment that steals Bucky's breath away, Gale just holds his gaze, but then he turns back to the mirror to comb his hair. "Not the word I'd use."
That's when Bucky notices the bruise on Gale’s forearm. Without thinking, he grabs Gale's hand and pulls it closer to get a better look at the mark. It’s circular, red and purpling in some places, about the width of a set of teeth. A bite mark. When Bucky brushes his thumb over it, Gale’s fingers twitch in his hold.
"What happened? Who did this to you?" Bucky asks with a frown. His protective anger rises behind the wall of confusion in his mind. It’s a fresh bruise, can't be more than a day old. Did Gale get up to something while Bucky was at the pub yesterday?
Gale uses his free hand to hike his trousers higher up his slim waist, shifting in place, but he doesn’t move the hand Bucky's holding to examine the bruise. He just stares at it, cheeks pinking. He’s standing close enough that all Bucky can smell is his aftershave, fresh on his smooth face.
"I reckon it was one of those bed-stealing fellas around here." He drawls.
Bucky swipes his thumb over the mark again distractedly before realization hits him.
"Did I do this?" He asks, horrified. When Gale hums yes, it’s like a rock of guilt falling right on Bucky’s heart. He lets go of Gale's hand and rubs his palm over his own face. His hangover swells into a wave of nausea he swallows back down. "Shit. I'm sorry, Buck. Can’t even remember."
"It was good whiskey, huh?" Gale smiles and picks up the towel he wiped his face with earlier. When Bucky gives him an apologetic look, he swats at him with it. "It’s fine, John."
A memory hits Bucky like a bucketful of ice. Back in flight school, on one of their first longer leaves, Gale actually went home to see his Ma in Wyoming because she was bedridden with a chest cold, and they feared she might pass. She made it through, but for what good, Bucky isn't sure, because Gale rarely ever writes her and hasn’t been to Casper since.
But that one time, he visited his parents. Bucky won't forget how it went anytime soon. The first day Gale came back to base, he was sporting a fading shiner on his right cheek. Dark blue pain under pale skin. He clammed up about how he got it, but Bucky prodded, kept asking the same question, who did this to you? Until Gale confessed that he had a fight with his father. The man was drunk. But it's fine, John, Gale told him, pursing his lips. Nothing that won't heal.
Discomfort ripples through Bucky, bitter on his tongue and heavy in his heart. Gale's smiling now, unlike that day in flight school, but there are too many similarities. Bucky has to, he needs to make it better.
"I didn’t mean to hurt you." He says sincerely.
"I know." Gale nods.
Bucky bites his lip. He can’t think of anything else to make it clearer that he’s nothing like Gale's bastard of a father. There’s so little he can give. He has nothing to offer but his company. "Let me make it up to you. Come to London with me. We could both use a break. Let's go paint the town red."
The tip of Gale's pink tongue pokes out between his lips for a second as he considers it. Instinctively, Bucky's gaze drops to the motion before he looks back to Gale's eyes again. "I don't know about that."
There's a wariness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Bucky hates it. He doesn’t know what put it there, but he wants it gone. He claps a hand on Gale's elbow and gives him a friendly squeeze. "Come on. We can go look at all the sights you wanna see, then I'll take you to a pub and buy you the best ginger beer you've ever had."
Gale gives him a lopsided smile. "Is that a bet?"
Bucky smirks. "A promise." He moves to take Gale's place at the sink, but Gale doesn’t step back immediately, which puts their faces so close to each other that for a split second, Bucky imagines crossing the remaining distance. "Tell you what. We could even split the hotel costs."
A fond light shines in Gale's eyes. He steps away with a chuckle and throws the towel at Bucky. "Go wash your face, Egan."
Grinning, Bucky opens the tap and does just that. That wasn’t a no, he notes. Excitement tingles in his limbs. His blood pumps warm joy through his body with every heartbeat. He has never felt more alive than this, but he wonders if he could. And if yes... would London do the trick?
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Prompt: “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Pairing: Clegan
ah a classic, what a good thing to say when you physically can't pull yourself away from the other
-----
Even on their hundredth, thousandth, possibly millionth time meeting in an abandoned shack just off of Thorpe Abbotts, Gale still pushed him away when John's lips grazed his. It always perplexed John how easily Gale came with just a smirk of John's lips or a subtle nod of his head, but protested when they finally got out there.
Now, when John ducked down to press their lips together, Gale turned his head at the last minute so that John's lips pressed against Gale's cheek. He huffed in frustration, pulling from Gale and running a hand down his face.
"Are you going to do this every time? Or do I have to crawl on my knees and beg for it? Because I will, Buck, I fucking will," John says and Gale just sighs.
He shakes his head and turns away, facing the wall that John had pushed him against the very first time they did this.
"We shouldn't be doing this," Gale says and John wants to scream.
He grabs Gale by the shoulder and spins him around, holding him roughly and resisting the urge to shake him.
"So why do you keep coming back? You can just ignore me, then we wouldn't have to go through this game every time," John pleads.
"We're going to get caught. Our boys need us, no need for us to be sent home on a blue card of all things," Gale says, shoving John's hands off of his shoulders.
John's grip finds him again, this time actually giving him a firm jerk and looking him in the eyes.
"Tell me how you really feel about this, Buck. Don't fucking play with me now, because I think I care for you a great deal more than you care for me," John says and there's a creep of a shout crawling into his face.
Gale purses his lips together and avoids John's gaze, looking at the floor or the wall to avoid it.
"I do care for you, Bucky. It's just that this ain't right, between two men. I have a fiance," Gale says.
"Did Marge write you? Tell you this was wrong? Because I guarantee that the love I have for you can't be wrong, it's certainly not wrong to me," John says and there's a swell of heat in his throat that he bites down. He won't cry in front of Gale.
There's a glassiness to Gale's eyes now, and John hopes that maybe he'll come around.
"We can't do this anymore. I'm getting married to Marge when we get back, this was just a thing for us to help us cope," Gale says quietly.
John huffs with force, turning away from Gale and feeling that same heat in his stomach.
"Don't fucking do that. You weren't like this last night, hell you were fucking begging for my cock. Don't just throw this all away," John says and feels a small sense of victory when Gale flushes.
"I'm leaving this, John, I'm not getting caught for this fucking accident," Gale hisses.
John could hit him. Punch him straight in the jaw. But he could never do that, could never do that to Gale.
"Fine. We'll stop this. But you can't stop me from loving you. Because that sure as hell ain't stopping," John says and Gale's eyes soften ever so slightly.
He walks closer, puts a friendly hand on John's shoulder, but leans in to press a gentle kiss on John's lips. Even that feels like a goodbye.
"I'm sorry I did this to you, John. Forgive me?" Gale says and John could almost laugh.
But he'll always forgive Gale. Even if he shoots him or gets him killed, he will never blame Gale for anything.
All he can do is watch Gale leave their abandoned shed as John's heart breaks in half.
I would say I'm sorry but I'm not so...
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now and then | b.b.
pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)
summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.
series masterlist
viii. eight: it was over
"save me!"
the young silva exclaimed with worry in her voice. funny, actually, how their game of house turned into an action-themed drama—much like this story.
nevertheless, gregory came running towards her as hyacinth and benedict start to seemingly attack the young girl.
"here i am, princess!" the boy exclaimed, raising his wooden sword and pointing it to the enemies.
hyacinth turned to him and raised her hands, the cloak falling from her shoulders, "i am the witch!"
raine tried her best not to laugh at the expressions of the children, utterly invested in their roles. benedict neared her, gaining gregory's attention and bolting to them to save her.
their play, however, was interrupted when major thorpe walked to them and called for the silva, "my lady."
she raised her head and turned to him. gilbert was not an emotional one, but his voice currently carried urgency. she excused herself from the children as she walked to him. the major did not say anything else and simply turned. benedict did not understand, really, why his feet felt the need to follow them.
they arrived at the back of the bridgerton's house, a man waiting who seemed to have jumped over the wall. he was covered, cloaked as if in disguise. the man turned to her with noticeable deep scratches and wounds.
"raphael?" she called with disbelief, clasping her hands together as she immediately went to hug him—lightly so as to avoid the wounds.
at the sight of her, the colonel let out a sound that could be mistake as a sob as he took the young girl's face on his palms, "raine, i am so so sorry."
she looked up at him from the hug, as if to read his eyes, and she did not need to hear whatever he was going to say to know what has happened. she shut her eyes closed and pulled away, placing her own palms to cover her face.
raphael put his hand inside his coat, getting the letter that was written by her father. he brushed her hair as he passed the paper.
with palms already a bit wet, she took the letter begrudgingly, already knowing its contents. raine opened it just as benedict neared her, placing a hand on her shoulder. his eyes were at her to maintain the privacy of the letter.
my dear daughter,
well, it is fucking unfortunate, isn't it? i apologise if the only thing that will return to you after all this time is this letter. i am sorry this is what our family has become. perhaps, i should have taken notes from edmund and had eight children as well. this way, you would not be alone right now.
tragic, really. my chest hurts like hell and my shoulder numb. your mother and brother has been calling for me. i am afraid i must answer to them. raphael will tell you everything. hopefully, i have trained him best, enough at the very least, to not die in the process. oh, i really hope he is not as stupid to die without ensuring you receive this letter. what else can i say? you already know i love you more than anything. make a concerto for me too. i do not want that calmness you did for your mother, or that hopefulness for your brother. i want mine to sound cruel and pure of malice. i want mine to sound like a declaration of war—a symbol of spite even in my grave.
know that you can do this. this is not the end but its beginning.
káne ton thánato perífano na mas párei.
your handsome father,
armand silva
raine shut her eyes closed once again, hugging the letter on her chest as her lips whimpered, "please, no..."
her legs gave out in hopelessness as benedict's touch tightened to her at once, holding her close to him as he keep her up. maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you are at your worst.
"let us go inside. the children must not see this." the bridgerton said, guiding her towards the home as the two men followed.
━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━
they stepped in through the back door, passing the drawing room in the process. anthony and kate stopped their conversation just as violet raised her head from her tea, standing up at once at the state of the four.
"loraine? what is happening?" she questioned in concern, not sure to walk to her or not as she was being assisted by her son.
anthony and kate stood as well in alarm. the viscount caught sight of raphael and understood what this could be about. he dodged the furnitures in the way as he led them, "to my study."
everyone in the room followed suit with heavy steps as they crossed the hall. now crowding anthony's study, benedict let her sit on the couch, providing her his handkerchief as well.
raphael sat on another chair at the side while the rest remained standing in anticipation and worry. anthony sat on the edge of his table, arms crossed while lightly biting his lips.
raine let out a heavy sigh, trying her best not to let her voice break, "father has passed."
anthong uncrossed his arms, placing his right palm on his forehead, his head casted down in defeat.
"god..." violet muttered in sorrow, closing her eyes as well as kate neared the woman, both supporting each other. they were aching for the girl in front of them.
as she opened her eyes again, her gaze landed on the wounded man this time. she spoke in a solemn manner, "does the guest need to rest for the moment?"
"no, lady bridgerton. thank you," he replied, sitting up from his leaning as he interlaced his fingers in seriousness, "but i must relay the current circumstances to the lady as soon as possible."
he did not continue as if waiting for loraine's permission that it was alright to divulge such information in the presence of other people. the young silva nodded absentmindedly, staring into nothing.
raphael understood what she meant and inhaled deeply, revealing the causes of it all, "general has discovered an anomaly in the communications and reports across brigades and regiments six months ago.someone has been tampering and altering the papers, giving false reports and causing miscommunication. just before we returned here for your debut, two battalions fought each other, unaware of their british ancestry."
he turned to address the silva solely, "that is what your father has been working on, believing that we may get hints here in central london."
she thought back on the moments her father was almost not present, missing events and time with her. she even ranted about it without even knowing the gravity of her father's duties. she wanted to slap her past self.
"and we did." the colonel continued, "on the day our carriage was attacked when we were going to the ball," he paused, clicking his tongue with hate in his following words.
"i would never miss the shine of the british insignia."
raine, for the nth time of the day, shut her eyes closed at the information. realising the gravity of the situation, she could not help but mutter in pessimism just what the people in the room were thinking as well.
"fuck."
anthony, as the viscount of the house, interjected, "if that is the case, you both have to stay here."
raphael stood up, turning to the man with respect, "lord bridgerton, i appreciate the thought but we cannot. our presence here right now endangers your family already."
he was not wrong about that at all, but the other was adamant on ensuring their safety, "the family is acquainted to the queen and close to her confidant. we do not know if the queen is involved or not, but at the very least, that will offer even the slightest protection than being out at all."
"anthony..." raine called, unsure what to say next. she would like that, in all honesty, as this was the only other home she ever knew. but, she also would not like to put them all at risk.
he turned to her reassuringly, "there is nothing to worry about. people will not bat an eye in you staying here longer as you have always did, and raphael will simply not let people catch a glimpse of him." he looked at the wounded man with no offense, "which i assume must be easy for a colonel."
raine nodded at anthony's plan, accepting it as raphael conceded as well, following whatever sound decision the daughter of his superior would make.
the girl raised her eyes to the dowager in pure shame of their temporary solution, "i apologise, violet."
the matriarch neared her on the couch as she placed a hand on her back and her chin on top of the girl's head, hugging her for what little comfort she could offer.
━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━
loraine was no stranger to staying up late and deep into the night. she has always loved it, and the joy that the silence would bring her was comforting.
now, although void of joy, she still looks for the same comfort under the same sky.
"do you need anything?" benedict entered the drawing room, sitting across the lady so as to not disturb her peace—if she had any left.
raine sneered weakly, "aside from my family? nothing."
"anthony told me." he began, his guilt starting to show, "i am really sorry i was not there with you at the ball."
she did not reply immediately. in fact, she did not reply at all. she was not petty. she understood that it was not an obligation for him to be there at that moment. and so, she settled with a nod for acknowledgement.
"do you want to talk about it right now?" he continued to ask, wanting whatever it is between them to disappear so that the young lady would have less on her plate.
"you do not have anything to be sorry for." she replied in a very exhausted voice, wanting everything to be just done with.
benedict chose to explain his side nonetheless, "i was with lady arnold. we—"
"i know." she interjected pointedly without intending to sound bitter.
"no. not like that." he defended with a sigh, "we met at the hawkins balloon, and she was a follower of the sciences you were enjoying."
it was lost between them���whatever they are now. they were not each other's, but they could not deny the feeling of possession.
"i met her at the ball again and mr. cooper joined us after a while. they were teaching me about their stuff... just like you have always done in the past."
she did not want to care. she should not have cared at all, yet she replied, "what about?"
he smiled at her inquiry, taking it as a sign of even her slightest regard for him, "i could not bother to listen to them."
raine did not know what to say. even in this time, he could make her feel something other than pain. however, the exhaustion is too much, pounding whatever warmness she might have felt. he was exhausting—the push and pull he was doing.
"i would like to be by myself, please."
benedict opened his mouth, likely to insist he stay, but he closed it as he casted his eyes downwards. he exhaled and nodded resignedly, pushing himself up from the chair, looking at her last before turning to leave.
"good night."
she just wants to go home, but nothing feels like home anymore. so, no later, she stood as well and made her way to the piano. in the dead of night, she was thankful for the moonlight as she sat in front of the instrument.
there is something big coming—bigger than love, bigger than loneliness.
in the midst of despair, she decided to write the piece her father wanted and she's staying up all night for it. she has thought for it to sound like mozart's lacrimosa but went against it in an instant. lacrimosa was weeping, mournful even. but her father? she was certain armand did not shed a single tear against his fate. he would have gritted his teeth and spat the blood on the fate's face.
and so, she slammed her fingers on the keys, note per note, octave per octave. while the tune was full of hurt, it was not the type that would make you curl in bed. it was the kind that would make you stand and run... faster, faster than you ever can.
for what is hurt but the prelude to rage. and once the pain goes away, the real battle starts.
taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr @peetahpahkah @omy0
#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton x oc#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x oc#benedict bridgerton#father daughter tandem is fire here because we cant have it in real life
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Jealous Wednesday drabble? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻
Filled, thanks boo
“He’s like a gnat.” Wednesday seethes. “Buzzing around girls who don’t want his attention.”
The gnat in question is Xavier Thorpe.
His crime? Offering you his notes from the phytotoxicology class you’d missed on Tuesday due to a head cold. Wednesday had watched the interaction, and had been seething like a stormcloud all the way back to her dorm room.
“He was just being friendly, baby.” You say, reaching out to rub her arm.
Wednesday shoots you a look and withdraws from your touch as if you’d burned her.
She doesn’t like pet names, or affection when it’s not pre or post-coital. But even worse, she hates when you defend the people she doesn’t like.
“Do I look like an infant to you, YN?” She asks, all of her ire suddenly turned on you. You blink, a little startled. Her eyebrows are knit, her eyes awash with fury.
All the fury of a two year old being refused her favorite toy.
“Right now?” You ask, hesitant, “A little.”
Wednesday blinks. If possible, her eyes darken even more. And you’re immediately aware you’ve said the wrong thing.
You sigh.
“Xavier isn’t interested in me,” You say in an attempt to placate her, “He had a crush on you, remember?”
Wednesday stares.
“That was last year,” She says, eyebrows knit, “And once he became imminently aware I would rather sit through a sing-along screening of the Sound of Music than become romantically involved with him, I believe his affections shifted.”
She eyes you up, as if it’s you who's done something wrong.
You shrug.
“Ditto.” You say, well aware of the fruitless attempt to pacify her. There was only one thing that seemed to always convince her. It would come sooner, rather than later. And thankfully, nowadays, Wednesday’s room always seemed to be vacant. Enid too preoccupied with Ajax to ever be home.
At the prospect of having Wednesday’s dorm room to yourselves, arousal flashes hot and fast through you.
But Wednesday, as always, is two steps behind. Her jaw clenches.
“You love The Sound of Music,” She says, voice slightly accusatory, “That means nothing.”
“I love you.” You say, meeting her gaze. It doesn’t waver, “Doesn’t that mean something?”
Wednesday considers this. Her eyes narrow, like she’s sizing you up. Her eyes flicker, and you know it’s time.
“Undress,” She says, leaning back slightly, “We are going to copulate.”
“Sexy.” You say, voice wry, “You sure know how to talk a girl into bed, Wednesday.”
Wednesday leans forward.
“Undress.” She insists, “I’m not asking.”
You cross your legs, gaze defiant. You know she likes this. A little resistance, fire meeting fire. It isn’t fun when it’s easy.
“I bet Xavier wouldn’t demand me to sleep with him,” You say, “I bet he’d ask, super nice. Call me nice names, tell me he loves me.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrow.
You half think she’s about to throw you onto the bed and rip your clothes off when she meets your gaze. The storm in her dark eyes doesn’t let up.
“Undress, please, sweetheart,” She says, through gritted teeth, “I want to remind you you’re mine.”
You tilt your head, waiting.
She sighs.
“And…” She says, as if the pause in her sentence will lessen your desire for her to say the words. She quirks an eyebrow. It doesn’t work.
“And I love you.”
You smile.
“I love you too,” You tell her, pull your shirt over your head, “And Xavier isn’t going to woo me with phytotoxicology notes. Don’t worry, baby.”
This time, she allows the epithet. She softens, meeting your submission with a kiss.
She climbs atop you, a careful maneuver that has her knee fall between your legs in just the right place.
“Xavier won’t woo you no matter what he does,” She says, as she unbuttons your jeans, “But I’ll remind you why, just in case.”
#wednesday#drabble#requests#jenna ortega#wedneday addams#wednesday x reader#xavier thorpe#mine#fanfic
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Bored
You're bored of Bucky talking about his love life. Luckily, your favorite bombardier swoops in to save the day.
Warnings: Historical inaccuracies (its good for the plot)
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: Just a short Hambone fic I came up with at work! Inspired by Bored by Laufey.
You had been listening, for what felt like hours, to Bucky’s rants about Lil and Dye’s relationship. At first, you felt sorry for him. You spotted him across the dance hall, his usual cheery self now sulking and sad. Helen and Tatty had filled you in on what happened with Bucky and Lil, claiming he had been like this for days now. You questioned the validity of their information, but they assured you that they'd overheard some of the pilots talk about it earlier. You decided to be a good friend to Bucky and, against Helen and Tatty’s advice, walked over to where he was sitting to ask him how he was feeling.
So now, instead of dancing and enjoying your night, you were stuck here. You could’ve left, but some part of you would have felt guilty for leaving him to deal with his heartache by himself. Even Buck, who was used to Bucky’s erratic behaviors, steered clear of him tonight.
Hambone saw that you were sitting with Buck, listening to whatever he was rambling on about. In fact, he saw you the moment you walked in, instantly taking his attention away from the conversation he was having with Douglass and Blakley to focus on you instead. Your usual grease stained coveralls were replaced with a blue dress and topped with a bright cherry lip. It wasn't that he didn't like your usual attire. Seeing you in your ground crew uniform was the best part of his day. But the sight of you in that dress was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
His infatuation for you started from the moment he arrived at Thorpe Abbotts. After the quite unfortunate landing of their plane, you and the rest of the ground crew jumped into action, making sure that the plane wouldn’t blow up after landing. After stabilizing everything and loading it up to be fixed, you had gone to check up on him. The fact that you went to him, out of everyone else on the plane, was the greatest welcome he could've received, and it only solidified your friendship with him.
The two of you grew closer after that encounter. You're the last person he sees on the ground before every mission and the first when he lands. He claims that you're his ‘good luck charm’ and that he always gets back safely when you're there. He also shares his bad jokes with you (you swear that they’re actually funny, he doesn’t believe you) and anecdotes about his life before the war.
You tell him about growing up in the city, a stark contrast to his Midwestern upbringing. He learns that after the war, you plan on finishing your degree just like him, and he can't help but picture life together with you stateside.
His thoughts were interrupted by Douglass, who noticed his lack of attention and he followed his gaze to you, earning him a thump on the shoulder.
“Go talk to her,” Douglass encouraged.
“She’s busy with Bucky,” Hambone argued. He did want to talk to you, tell you how pretty you looked tonight and chat with you until the sun came up, but some part of his brain stopped him from doing so and filled him up with nervousness instead.
“No she’s not, she’s clearly bored out of her mind,” Blakely added. And he was right. Even from across the room, it was clear that you were looking for any chance to escape the mostly one-sided conversation.
“I talk to her everyday, she probably doesn’t even want to see me.”
“If you don’t go over there right now, I will. And I’ll tell her that you talk about her for hours and even that one time you‒”
“Ok, ok I’ll go,” Hambone pleads, quickly standing up from his seat before his friends embarrass him even more.
He looks over to you once again. You still have the same unamused expression on your face, occasionally nodding to signal that you were still listening to whatever Bucky was still rambling about. Taking a deep breath, he makes his way over to you.
“Excuse me, Major. But the Lieutenant here promised me a dance tonight and I plan on taking her up on that offer.”
You were confused. You don’t remember Hambone asking you to dance earlier, and you knew he preferred to socialize at parties instead. Then, you realized what he was doing and looked over to Bucky, hoping he would let you be excused and more importantly, put you out of your misery.
When Bucky shooed you off and told you to enjoy the rest of your night, you jumped out of your chair with a little too much excitement and took Hambone’s hand as he led you out onto the dancefloor.
After finding a spot, you placed your hands on his shoulders. Hambone, wanting to be respectful, rested his hands a little too far above your waist. You smiled at how sweet this gesture was.
“Howard, I’m not your little sister. You can put your hands a little lower,” you teased. He still hesitated, so you took his hands in yours and moved them down. His hands feel warm against the fabric of your dress, and it's a feeling so addictive that it only strengthens the not-so-tiny crush you have on him.
“Better?” you asked.
“Better.”
You took this time to take in his appearance. He was wearing his Air Force issued olive suit. His usual floppy hair was brushed back and his mustaches neatly trimmed. Even in the midst of war, dancing at these parties with your favorite bombardier had provided you with a sense of much needed calmness.
The two of you swayed to the slow song the band was playing as you made small talk. You loved hearing the small details that made his day better. Like how his coffee was perfect this morning, or that the mission he went on earlier today was successful. However, he said that the best part of his day was seeing how pretty you looked in your dress and how your smile lit up the room. You had blushed at his last comment, knowing he was generally a flirt, but it had an effect on you every single time. You also filled him in on what happened with Bucky and his unfortunate love life. He laughed when you told him how long you were stuck there for, and you gently swatted him on the shoulder for doing so.
“But really, thanks for the assist. You were my real knight in shining armor earlier. What could I ever do to repay you?” you joked dramatically.
“A kiss should be enough.”
You froze at his answer. You knew it was a joke, but what if he was serious? Was this your chance to finally tell him how you feel?
Hambone, on the other hand, was panicking. A million thoughts had raced through his head. Had he gone too far? What if you never wanted to see him again and he had lost you as a friend, or‒
Before he could think another thought, you took his head in your hands and kissed him. It was a feeling he had imagined many times, but none of those compared to the real thing. He was trying to commit all of it to memory, from the flowery scent of your perfume to the cotton fabric of your dress under his hands. But the thing he loved the most was the way your thumbs gently brushed across his cheeks, attempting to pull him down to deepen the kiss.
When you finally had to separate for air, you searched his face for any signs of disgust or regret. Instead, you were met with that gold-tooth smile that you loved. That smile was dangerous, almost lethal, to the rhythm of your heart, and it made you wonder if he knew he had this effect on you. You then noticed the amount of lipstick that had transferred from your lips to his, making you giggle.
“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” he asked. He was still close to your face, trying to memorize every freckle, and that crinkle in your eyes when you smiled. He noticed that the scar on your right eyebrow was almost fully healed. He was with you during that accident, even talking with you for hours in case you had a concussion and was told not to fall asleep.
You took your thumb and swiped it across his lips. Then, you turned it around to show him the red pigment. He gave you a hum of amusement, satisfied with the result.
“Might as well get a little more.”
This time, he leaned to kiss you. This kiss is more passionate, almost as if it was fueled by months of pining and stolen glances. He pulled you in closer so that your bodies were flush, causing you to gasp into the kiss. He would’ve stayed here forever if he could, with you in his arms and not a single worry plaguing his mind.
You pulled away from him when you heard the sounds of cheering coming from his original table. Douglass and Blakely were still there, now joined by Brady and Crosby. Hambone had no doubt in his mind that they were gossiping about how they wouldn’t have to endure him pining over you every second of the day anymore.
Hambone walked back over with you under his arm and a grin on his face. More cheers came from the men, along with a few ‘congrats’ and ‘about time’s sprinkled in. You attempted to hide your blushing cheeks in Hambone's shoulder, not aware that your mutual feelings for each other were painfully obvious to everyone else.
“Red looks good on you,” Douglass said as he tossed Hambone a napkin to clean himself up. He doesn’t realize just how much of your lipstick is on him until he sees the amount he wipes off. You look at him with a smirk, almost proud of the way you marked his lips with red hue.
“I bet it does,” he agrees as he looks over to you with love in his eyes.
#hambone hamilton x reader#howard hamilton x reader#masters of the air#mota#masters of the air x reader#mota x reader#howard hamilton#hambone hamilton#howard hambone hamilton#masters of the air fanfic#mota fanfic
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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 9
Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |-| Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19
AO3
Warnings: Language
Word Count: 3.6k
Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58
A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while! Please enjoy some filler fluff as a reward for your patience
The January cold was a biting, painful thing, with the uncanny ability to burrow its way deep beneath any clothing, regardless of the layers everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had desperately piled on for protection. Thick, wool socks and scarves were always in order, and a few of the elderly women in the village had begun to make a pretty penny by selling them on to disgruntled pilots who had never before experienced winter outside of California.
Major Kidd had given her Egan's sheepskin jacket. Well, he less gave it to her than he did leave it in the mechanics' hut for her, but she appreciated the gesture nevertheless. The sleeves were too long, but she made do, as it was loose enough on her to fit comfortably over her work overalls. Combined with the wool tights she'd stolen from George, and the fingerless gloves she'd found at the bottom of a drawer somewhere, the weather was almost bearable. Almost.
It had snowed overnight. There was too much ice on the roads to cycle without endangering life and limb, so Frankie had been forced to commandeer a phone and summon Lemmons in one of the jeeps. The man had looked so miserable upon his arrival, that it had been impossible not to laugh. Hat tugged down past his eyebrows, scarf pulled up over his chin, his face was only half visible, and what sliver she could see was contorted in a frown. His gloves were made of bright orange wool, and she suspected the women in the village had run out of the more appealing colours by the time he sought them out. Grinning to herself, she clambered into the jeep, stomping snow off of her boots as she sat down.
"I don't like this country anymore, Frankie," Ken complained, voice muffled by his scarf.
She laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is bad..."
He was stricken with a look of complete and utter fear, and Frankie let out a snort. "It gets worse?"
"Probably!"
This information put him in a foul mood for the rest of the drive, muttering and grumbling to himself about 'goddamn snow' and 'goddamn ice' as they pulled up to the runway, tyres gouging fresh marks into the undisturbed blanket of white. They were both left sorely wishing they had finished their work the night before when the weather had been more palatable, but there was no getting around what they had to do now.
The metal of the planes' exteriors was frozen to the touch, bare fingertips left raw and red as they worked away at replacing and tightening various bolts and rivets, breath blooming in frozen clouds in front of their faces. Every five minutes they would have to step away from whatever they were doing and run a few laps around the place just to warm themselves up, aware of what a ridiculous sight they must have made.
"Think they'll go up again tomorrow?" Ken asked, panting as he jogged on the spot behind Frankie, occasionally pausing to throw in a few star jumps.
"Not if the weather doesn't clear up - they'll need better skies than this if the navigators want to get anywhere," She shrugged, pausing halfway through tightening another bolt to jump up and down, attempting to restore feeling to her legs.
"Everyone else is in bed right now," He complained.
"Lucky bastards."
The pair must have appeared entirely absurd, chatting away with stony, irritated expressions as they stomped and jumped around entirely out of synch, and they counted themselves lucky that there wasn't a single other soul out there that morning to bear witness. A lit cigarette hung from between Frankie's lips, the embers only just succeeding in warming her face. Their cheeks and noses had both turned red after only an hour out in the cold, and by the end of their second, neither could justify staying outside any longer.
Kicking the snow off their boots, they shut themselves in the mechanics' hut, the light that hung from the ceiling swaying in the drafty breeze - the result of a ceiling gap that they were unable to locate. Turning on the gas stove that was usually only used to make terrible coffee, the pair pulled up their chairs beside it, holding their frozen hands above the small flame until feeling returned to their fingers.
"I forgot to ask you about your Christmas," Frankie huffed, rubbing her palms together, creating heat from the friction.
"That was nearly a month ago," He pointed out.
"I know. Just felt a bit bad about not asking."
"It was good, yeah. Sammy's folks had a goose, I dunno where they got it from," Lemmons chuckled, pausing for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a glimmer of something in his eye. "How was your Christmas?"
She frowned at him. "I told you before. Good."
"...Mhm."
A sudden knock at the door took them both by surprise, heads snapping towards the unexpected sound. Brows furrowed, they glanced at one another, neither one wanting to get up from their spot beside the stove. "Door's open!" Ken called.
They could hear the sound of someone awkwardly fumbling with the door handle, and Frankie was about to get up when it finally opened. Rosie had to use his foot to pry his way inside, a steaming cup of Red Cross coffee in each hand as he shuffled through, flakes of snow still resting unmelted in his hair. His face was flushed pink, and he wasn't wearing anywhere near enough clothes to protect him from the cold, snow encrusting the soles of his boots.
"Hey!" Frankie beamed, pulling up another chair for him between her and Lemmons. "Jesus, were you trying to get hypothermia?"
"Brought coffee," He said simply, voice still slightly shaky as he sat down, holding the tin mugs out to the mechanics. "And uh-" Reaching into his pocket, Rosie produced a crumpled paper bag containing a couple of doughnuts. "Don't tell Helen. Was only supposed to take one."
"Gee, thanks, Cap," Lemmons nodded gratefully, shooting Frankie a pointed stare that she pretended not to have noticed. She nodded in agreement, both hands wrapped around her cup, feeling the heat seep through the metal. The Red Cross coffee always tasted so much better than the crap they had in the mechanics' hut, and she resisted the urge to grin at the gesture, especially as she realised he had brought nothing for himself.
They drank in silence for a while, the only sound the jagged, laboured breathing of one trying to wear off a chill. "...So, uh..." Rosie began, hands folded in his lap as he looked between the others. "...Work going well?"
"Y'know, I can go somewhere else if you guys want," Ken pointed out, peering at them over the rim of his mug.
"No!" "No!" Frankie and Rosie blurted simultaneously, assuring him hurriedly. "You need to keep warm, Ken," She told him.
He had slurped down his coffee quickly, the winter cold cooling it down so that it wouldn't burn his throat. Shaking his head, he pushed his chair backwards out of the little semi-circle they had created, scraping loudly across the floor. "The fuel cans we asked for arrived yesterday, I should go pick them up before I forget."
"You sure?" Frankie asked, getting up to trail after him as he made his way to the door. "The snow'll probably start melting soon, you should wait until it's not so icy."
"No, no. Now's good," Lemmons nodded determinedly, smirking at her as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind blowing its way inside. "Thanks again for the coffee, Rosie!"
"No problem, Ken," He nodded, tipping an imaginary cap at him as the mechanic disappeared outside.
Frankie paused a moment to process what had happened before letting out a huff of laughter. Rosie was still sat beside the stove, watching with a smile as she crossed the room towards him. She leant down, and he craned his head up to meet her, their lips meeting in a quick kiss, as casual and comfortable as a long-married couple.
"He definitely knows," She pointed out, lowering herself back into her seat and propping her legs up across his lap, his elbows resting gently on them.
"Oh yeah," Rosie nodded in agreement. "Have you properly told anyone yet? Only, I haven't - I was waiting until you wanted to."
"Oh, I've only told George, she won't tell anyone. But I tell her literally everything, so y'know."
"Yeah, yeah, I expected that," He continued nodding, pausing after a moment as a stricken look of realisation crossed his face. "Wait, does that mean you told her about when we-"
"No! No, not about that, Jesus," Frankie giggled, nose creasing as she took another sip of her coffee. A smile spread across Rosie's expression as he took a moment to actually take in her appearance, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the hem of her trousers.
"... Is that Egan's jacket?"
"Mhm," She hummed, wiping her top lip as she put down her mug. "Kidd left it for me. It doesn't fit-" Frankie flapped the ends of her sleeves to illustrate the point, making him chuckle. "-but the thought was nice."
"God, I absolutely humiliated myself the first time I met Egan," Rosie shook his head slightly, his cheeks reddening. "Kept talking about flying in my goddamn skivvies, I was pretty sure he only brought me to meet you so that you two could both laugh at the weird new Captain."
She laughed, taking one of his hands in hers, absent-mindedly twiddling his fingers as she spoke. "I'm sorry, you flew in your what?"
"Jesus, I'm doing it again, this is like a recurring nightmare. It gets real hot in Texas, right, so we practised flying in our underwear to stop us from over-heating - but of course I decided that was the best possible story to introduce myself to the Majors with. I mean, Christ, I still don't know what I was thinkin'."
"Well, the first time I met him I absolutely destroyed him in a drinking contest, so he's been offered his fair share of public humiliation."
"That... does help, actually," He admitted, and she grinned, running a hand through his hair and messing up his curls as she rose to her feet. His gaze followed her, tilting his head upwards, a few loose curls hanging in his face. "Where are you going?"
"Funny thing is, I actually have this thing called a job," Frankie teased, zipping up Egan's jacket as she headed for the door. "I have to, like, do it, and everything."
"Wow, that sounds really hard, I'm so impressed," Rosie replied flatly, a smirk curling his lip.
A gust of wind blew a cloud of snowflakes in through the door as she opened it, flipping her collar up to her chin against the breeze as she stepped outside. Lemmons was waiting there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and his unexpected presence startled her, snow crunching beneath her feet as she jumped, sucking in a sharp breath.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Ken shrugged. "Thought I oughta give you a minute - didn't wanna interrupt anything private."
Frankie's eyes narrowed, glaring at him as they made their way back towards the hardstand. "Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong?"
Turning on her heel, she stared at him, their gazes locked for a long, awkward moment of silence. She gnawed at her lip, saying nothing, until suddenly she broke, scoffing as she stomped away. "Fuck you, Ken."
"Told you!"
Before he could move, she had slung an arm around his neck, forcing him into a playful headlock. Lemmons squawked, wrestling against her unrelenting grip until he dug his fingers into her side, and she released him with a yelp, their hair both dusted white with snow.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
It took three days for the weather to subside - three days of icy roads, relentless snowfall, and trying not to freeze on the hardstand. Every day like clockwork Rosie had brought the mechanics fresh, hot coffee, filling flasks with the stuff to satisfy more and more of the ground crews, who were growing steadily more irritable with each inch of snowfall. The pilots were grounded for the duration, but even the pub seemed too great of a trek under such circumstances. The only sanctuary was the small, cylindrical heaters inside the Nissen huts, and in the evenings many took to sitting around them to keep warm.
Early morning birdsong came as an unwelcome sound as Frankie's eyes peeled open, adjusting to consciousness as sunlight streamed in through the window above her bed. A gust of air hit her face as her bedsheets were ripped off of her, and she flinched as she waited for the sudden chill to grip her. But it didn't.
"George. What the fuck," She grumbled, pressing her palms against her eyelids as she sat up, hair knotted and sticking out at random angles on one side of her head.
"Get up. Snow's thawed, they'll be flying today."
The woman had a disturbing knack for always looking immaculate - golden hair falling in perfect curls, red lipstick that never smudged, and clothes that always fitted perfectly. George always told her that it was just that she put in the effort, but Frankie tended to suspect some sort of witchcraft.
"Well fuck me, in that case, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She huffed, her hairbrush getting stuck halfway through a knotted patch. For a moment, she couldn't quite bear to deal with it, and just let it hang there, weighing down her scalp on one side.
"Thought you should get some beauty sleep before you see off your darling pilot," She teased, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Although admittedly, I wasn't expecting you to wake up looking like you'd been dragged sideways through a thornbush," George added, and Frankie let out a cry as she yanked on the hairbrush, dragging it forcefully through her hair until it fell straight.
"I'll drag you sideways through a bush in a minute," She muttered, rubbing at the sore spot on her scalp with one hand as she pulled on her coveralls with the other.
"I just think it took you long enough to finally snog him, you might as well try not to look like a dying cat whenever you see him."
"Oh, piss off!"
Huge meltwater puddles lined the roads on both sides, the grass reduced to muddy swampland, sodden with what remained of the snowfall. Frankie pedalled slowly, careful not to slip, calling out in greeting to the men who passed by in their jeeps, tyres kicking up water, spraying her legs and staining her trousers.
Her breaks screeched loudly to a halt as she stopped in front of a half-melted snowman on the side of the road, the last remaining evidence of the village children's play. Their laughter had filled the air since the first snowfall, the only remedy to the constant, freezing misery. The snowman's head was close to toppling off, its carrot nose drooping pathetically. She couldn't help but chuckle as one of the pebbles they had used for eyes slipped from its perch, landing with a thumb in the damp grass. She wondered if it had snowed back home, if Alice and Jill had made a snowman of their own. As a child, she'd used her mother's old scarf and gloves, the scent of perfume still lingering on them after so many years.
Another jeep rolled past, cutting it too close and too fast, a spray of puddle water splashing all the way up her back, the cold soaking through to her spine. Frankie let out a yelp, her train of thought lost as she flipped off the driver in his side mirror and began to pedal again, resuming her steady, cautious pace as the airstrip came into view.
The Riveters were gathered around their B-17 when she arrived, packs slung over their shoulders as they readied to board. Letting out a huge yawn, Frankie dismounted her bike, letting it lie on the tarmac as she approached, the uncomfortable stick of damp fabric against skin making her squirm. The moment Pappy saw her, he frowned. "D'you just get up? They've run the checks on our bus already, right?"
"Your plane's been ready to fly for days, Pap - I was out here in the snow making sure of it while you lot were warming your feet by the fire," She rolled her eyes, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.
Rosie was visibly fighting a grin as she approached, Bailey shooting him a confused look at his expression as he passed, clambering into the belly of the plane. One by one, the flight crew filed inside, hauling themselves up through the hatch in a series of grunts, until their Captain was the only one left standing on the tarmac. The moment they were alone, he let his smile show, a red tint flushing his cheeks. "Ma'am," He teased, tilting his cap at her as she approached.
Frankie smirked, stepping forward until their fronts were pressed together. "So... what number is this now?"
"Seventeenth mission," Rosie nodded.
"Hm. Not too shabby."
"Why thank you, dear," He grinned, leaning down to press his lips to hers. Just as Frankie began to reciprocate the kiss, a thought popped into his mind, and he pulled back, eliciting a tut of disappointment from her. "Y'know, I had this idea earlier that I'd bring you flowers, but it's too damn cold for 'em. Thought I'd let you know anyway, so you can appreciate the thought."
She hummed. "Duly noted," Grinning, she resumed the kiss, her teeth accidentally grazing his lip as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. Hands grasping at her back, his brow furrowed at the sudden dampness, but he figured she might send him away if he ruined the kiss again. He could smell the oil on her clothes, but the scent he had once found acrid now only succeeded in reminding him of her. Even miles up in the sky, hanging perilously over enemy territory, there was something calming in that smell, a constant tether to home.
The pair had been so engrossed in their embrace, that they had failed to notice Pappy reappearing through the hatch, sent to retrieve something they had forgotten in the jeep. But the moment his feet hit the tarmac, and he took in the scene before him, he froze, releasing a sort of strangled grunt that alerted them to his presence, springing away from each other, hands raised to wipe any evidence of the other from their mouths.
Wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and horror, he spoke in angry whispers, closing the hatch most of the way to muffle the sound. "Are you kidding me?!"
Rosie held up his hands as if begging for mercy. "Look, Pappy, I was gonna tell you, it's just-"
"I owe George so much money," Pappy huffed, running a hand across his brow.
Frankie frowned. "... You what?"
"We had drinks last week, we were betting on how long it'd take for... this to happen."
She resisted the urge to laugh, noticing how Rosie seemed to be suppressing a smile. "George already knew about this last week."
His expression was horror-stricken, face growing ever-redder with every second that passed. "... Are you fucking kidding me?!"
Rosie let out a chuckle. "I think you just got scammed, Pappy."
Brow furrowed, expression contorted in fury, Pappy muttered to himself in indecipherable fury as he marched over to the jeep, retrieved his forgotten cargo, and stomped back towards the plane, pausing briefly to interrupt his incensed murmuring. "Happy for you two. Or whatever," He sighed, waving a hand in their general direction as he failed to meet their eyes.
As soon as he was safely inside the plane and out of earshot, they collapsed into laughter, his utterly outraged frown seared into their minds. Rosie wheezed as he caught his breath, "I think George is using your friendship for evil," He pointed out, succumbing to laughter again as Frankie let out a cackle.
"I am not letting her collect on that debt," She shook her head, face flushed red, cheeks creased with a smile. Frankie looked up as she felt his hands against her face, palms cupping his cheeks as he brought her face to his, their foreheads simply resting against each other's as their breathing slowly returned to normal.
"I will see you later," He spoke softly, the tip of his nose brushing against hers.
"Yeah, you better," She reached up, straightening his tie. "I'll be really pissed off otherwise."
"And we can't have that."
"Nope."
With one last smile, Rosie pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Frankie scoffed as he pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He smirked to himself as he climbed up into the plane, arms burning with the weight of his body as he hauled himself up through the hatch. Navigating his way through to the cockpit with ease, he slid into the pilot's seat, feeling Pappy's gaze burning into the side of his skull.
"...Yes Pappy?" He asked after a moment of silence, his co-pilot shaking his head side to side, never retracting his penetrating stare.
"I fuckin' knew it."
#masters of the air#masters of the air oc#masters of the air fic#rosie rosenthal#rosie rosenthal x oc#ken lemmons#pappy lewis#oc: frankie#oc: george#fic | i'm your man
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gosh, these prompts are just so fluffy, it makes me want to cry! 🥹
maybe these for whoever you're feeling in the moment:
❛ what, am i not allowed to look at you? ❜
❛ seeing you happy is all that matters. ❜
A/N: First, you asked for this so long ago, I'm sorry it took so long! I wanted to explore a lil reunion for Rosie and Grace after (one of the times) his plane goes down and he makes it back. I did a smidge of research for this, but to be clear, this isn't the time he lands in Russia that we see in the show. This is an earlier mission where he crash lands in France - p422 (? I think?) in Masters of the Air if you want to read more. I tweaked the dialogue of that second prompt just a tiny bit, hope that's okay. These Heartbeats Clear Masterlist
Seven. Wounded.
When Robert Rosenthal opens his eyes, for a moment he doesn't remember where he is. There's a brief unsettling moment of sheer panic where he tries to get his bearings, tries to sit up and tries to remember what's happened to him in the last 48 hours.
"Whoa, whoa, slow down." A voice says. American. He sighs in relief.
An unfamiliar worried face swims into his vision. "Major Rosenthal?"
"What--" His throat hurts, his entire body hurts, and he stops trying to talk.
"You've been asleep for almost two days."
"Where am I?"
"Please, try to relax. You're safe. You're in Oxford."
Now that he hears the words, he remembers loud, urgent voices, he remembers flashing lights and the feeling of being manhandled around. It doesn't do much to quell the fear rising in his gut. "My crew."
"They're fine. Some wounded, but everyone's going to be okay." She moves around the bed with quick, sure steps, checking his chart before meeting his eyes again. "You've got a broken arm and a few broken ribs, Major. Now that you're awake, we'd just like to monitor you for a few hours and then we can talk about a transport back to your base."
He nods, thanking her, and she smiles before disappearing down a corridor, leaving him to his thoughts. His mind is slow, fuzzy, but there's one thought blaring like an alarm louder than anything else - he needs to find a way to call Grace.
He swore to her a long time ago that he'd never give her a reason to think he wasn't coming back. He has no idea if anyone knows he and his crew are here.
He also has a panicked thought that he won't be able to fly again, not if they were helped the French resistance. He forces himself to take deep breaths and tries to beat back the anxiety fluttering in his ribcage.
"Rosie?" A familiar voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he tries to sit up before pain laces up his spine, making him wince.
"Croz?"
Harry's worried face peeks around the curtain. "Jesus." He says, making Rosie wonder what he must look like.
"What are you doing here?"
"We got a call. Wasn't going to let you guys walk back to Thorpe Abbotts, was I?" He takes a few steps closer, scraping a chair closer to the bed before sitting down. He looks exhausted. "I volunteered to come get you."
"How long--"
"It's been five days since the mission." Harry rubs a hand over his face. "Can't begin to tell you how lucky you were, Rosie."
It starts to hit him, how close he was to not coming back. He doesn't even remember the plane going down, not entirely. He has no memory of being rescued. He feels strangely guilty. He's the one that's supposed to lead and help his crew when he can.
"Have you talked to a doctor?" Harry asks.
Rosie shakes his head. "Not yet, just a nurse. Obviously I can't do much with this--" He struggles to shrug with his injured arm in a sling.
"It'll be fine. Desk duty until you're well."
"Croz, you know I hate--"
"You can't fly like that, Rosie. Technically you should be pulled from duty altogether."
Rosie clenches his jaw, takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. It's not Harry's call, even though he knows he's right. He's going to do everything he can to get back in the seat again, even if he has to get demoted to do it.
.
He discharges himself so he can leave with his crew and with Crosby and hitch a ride back to base. The doctor fixes him with a stern look as he does it, but he must see the determination on Rosie's face, and just tells him to take it easy for the next few weeks.
Fat chance of that.
"Stop looking at me like that." He grouses to Harry as they bounce along the road back to Thorpe Abbotts, Rosie biting back a wince with grit teeth as the road jostles his muscles uncomfortably.
"I'm not looking at you like anything."
Harry has long stopped trying to convince Rosie of anything, just like Rosie has stopped trying to tell him to get more sleep or eat more. They're all just doing whatever they can to survive at this point. The cost of it all is secondary.
"I'll save the lecture for Grace." He mutters.
Rosie's head snaps up. "Is she--"
"Worried sick? Probably, but you know her. Once she knew you were alive, she went from worried to furious."
"Not like I had any say in the matter," Rosie counters, voice dry. "Didn't try asking them not to shoot at us, though."
Harry smiles, shaking his head. "You know what I mean. Angry at the circumstances. Frustrated with herself for being emotional. That's Grace."
That's Grace. And isn't that the truth. Rosie can't help but smile softly, because he knows Harry is right - he's going to get an earful when he gets back. But he must be a masochist, because he's almost looking forward to it - it means she cares. Not that he's ever had any reason to doubt that.
The truck rumbles along for miles. Rosie hadn't thought about how long it would take them to get back to the base, but he tries to close his eyes and get relatively comfortable until they arrive.
He hears the noise of the gates and opens his eyes to find the sun nearly down. There's a big commotion as they enter and he takes a deep breath to try to get his bearings.
"We'll go to command first, and then to the infirmary. You'll probably have to sleep there." Harry says groggily.
They're let out in front of the command building, Jack Kidd already there waiting for him along with the Colonel. Both look like they haven't slept in days. A few paces behind them is Grace, and the sight of her softens Rosie, makes his shoulders lose their tension. He meets her eyes and tries for a smile, but he thinks it comes off as more of a grimace.
Grace, for her part, is restraining herself. She feels a mixture of relief and anger wash over her at the sight of him, arm in a sling and bruises and cuts littering his handsome face. He looks exhausted, and she's sure she looks much the same.
She knows being angry is the wrong thing. It's not his fault he got shot down, after all. Really, she's angry at herself. She's angry at her heart, at the way it plummeted to her feet when she heard the news that his plane didn't come back, and she's angrier that every day since confirms to her what she already knows: she's in love with him.
And that's as terrifying as it is liberating, because there's a very real chance he could break her heart, whether he means to or not. (She knows that Robert Rosenthal doesn't have a cruel bone in his body, but sometimes, in war, the choice isn't his)
"Jesus Christ, Rosie." Jack says quietly, voice heavy. "I--" He takes a deep breath, and seems to remember what he needs to do. "It's good to see you back. We need to go to interrogation."
"The crew isn't ready--"
Kidd shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Rosie, but the quicker we do this, the better. It's already been a few days."
"Who's back?"
"Maddox, Rubick, Palmer, and Hartos. The others won't be back until tomorrow, but we'll debrief them then. I don't want to wait an extra day."
Jack looks over his shoulder, and Rosie is sure he catches an apologetic look on his face that's there and gone quickly as he sees Grace there. "Twenty minutes, then go to the infirmary." He says as he turns back to Rosie. "Let's go."
The interrogation is as grueling as Rosie expected. He's glad to see some of the members of his crew again. Despite his brain telling him that none of this is his fault, his heart can't help but beat wildly, flooding him with guilt as they give their account of what happened after they went down, when Rosie was knocked unconscious.
It feels like hours before he's trudging towards the infirmary, luckily only a few steps away from the interrogation hut.
The door is opening before he arrives, and Grace's worry-filled face fills his vision. "Grace." Her name leaves his mouth without his permission, his tone exhausted, but full of emotion.
She swallows hard. "Major." Her tone is relieved and... frustrated. He's not surprised, but he hopes she'll spare him Nurse Grace and instead give him the Grace he's been dreaming of for days, though he knows it's selfish, knows that she has a job to do.
He sees the doctor hovering behind her. She opens the door wider so he can come through.
All he wants is to be alone with her. He wants to tell her he's sorry, he wants to tell her that she was on his mind every second, that she is one of the reasons not only that he gets in the seat, but the reason he comes home.
Home.
The exam is quick, thankfully. They took good care of him in Oxford. The doctor leaves Grace to administer pain meds and do the paperwork, and it's only when they're finally alone that he sees the emotion on her face, though she's trying valiantly to hide it.
With each injury she catalogues, her face hardens. Her eyes meet his as she tilts his face up to dab a cooling salve on a bruise forming on his orbital bone.
"You have a look on your face." He says quietly.
"What, I'm not allowed to look at you?" She asks, and he can see how she's trying so hard to hold it together. Pretending. Pretending this is all business for her. He wishes she wouldn't.
"I'm sorry." He croaks, throat dry from overuse.
"Please don't apologize," she says, expression suddenly stricken, as if she realizes what she must look and sound like. "You didn't--" She stops herself, eyes closing for a moment as she gathers her professionalism. "I'm just so relieved you're alive." She whispers. "I'm not angry at you. I'm upset... I'm angry at the war. At these circumstances. That you're hurt--" She stops herself.
He wishes more than anything he had the use of both his arms. He settles for reaching out with one hand, thankful when she doesn't hesitate to take it, lacing their fingers together.
"I never want you to worry." He says, and it's the truth, even though they both know it's pointless.
She shrugs. "Comes with the territory, Major." She squeezes his hand. Her voice lowers to a whisper. "Worry happens naturally when you love someone."
His pulse pounding in his ears is all he can hear. He feels like the world tilts on its axis and then rights itself, all at once.
"Maybe it's too soon or too big for me to say it, but I don't want you to fly ever again without knowing it." She says, voice strong this time. He loves her for it.
He loves her.
He tugs her a little closer and she seems to understand, her face softening as she stands as close as she can, leaning down to meet him halfway. He tries to tell her how he feels when he kisses her gently, mindful of the black eye he's sure he's sporting and the soreness of his cheekbone. His hand leaves hers in favor of cradling her jaw, and the sigh that leaves her is music to his ears.
"Of course I love you." He murmurs, barely a centimeter between them when they break apart. "Probably have for a long time, Grace."
She pulls herself away, just for a moment, and starts to tidy up the triage area where he sits with her. He recognizes what she's doing and gives her the space she needs to gather herself, to come to terms with whatever she needs to. He's relieved at least that the smile hasn't left her face.
"Winning this war and seeing you happy are just about all that matter to me anymore." He admits, and watches as she stops what she's doing to turn back to face him.
"I just want to be sure I'm not a distraction for you."
He shakes his head. "No."
"Rosie, I'm--"
He shakes his head again, cutting her off. "Grace, you don't think I'm going to let you tell me you love me and then push me away, do you?" He tilts his head to one side.
"That's not what I'm doing. I promise."
"Then come over here and let me kiss you again."
She smiles, and he swears to himself that he's going to be responsible for that smile on her face every day, for as long as he can help it. He has no doubt that they have some trials ahead, but they have each other, and sometimes the will of the heart is stronger than anything else.
#rosie rosenthal x oc#robert rosenthal x oc#masters of the air fanfiction#do you hear that? it's me screaming#i don't know man something about ROBERT ROSENTHAL just makes me kick my feet and twirl my hair#these two just make me so happy#they're both so concerned for each other all the time it's sickening obviously#everyone around them is just rolling their eyes but deep down they're like damn that's true love you know?#anyway#i did a bit of research about this mission for rosie and it sounds so harrowing#i couldn't completely confirm that the entirety of the crew was ok but it didn't list any of them as POW or KIA so i think so#which is incredible#i hope you like this!#oc: grace fleming#softspeirs mota fanfiction
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…. I imagine you have a Billion of these requests and it might not tickle your fancy but I’ve been thinking of a
Post war bucky - meeting navigator reader ( who was transferred to thrope abbots whilst he was in the camps) reader is the warm softness he needs to help rebuild the new him that is worth knowing.. bonus reader being besties with Harry and Rosie
Again no pressure at all! I just don’t own your skill to turn these thoughts into reality! You have such skill miss thang ! I hope you know that 🤍
New Girl
John Egan X Navigator! Reader
Summary: Bucky meets a woman when he comes back from the camps...
Warning: Swearing/ kissing/ mention of death/ use of Y/n/
Word count: 1.3k
The 3 of them were sitting near the fireplace, Rosie just came back, and he survived his plane crashing. She was transferred to Thorpe Abbots a few weeks ago, she was a navigator, that’s how she became friends with Harry Crosby, then, he introduced her to Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal, the 3 of them quickly became friends. Crosby and Rosie kept talking about pilots that got down, especially Major Cleven and Major Egan. Rosie even said that her and Egan would be great together. ‘’You excited to go back home?’’ Rosie asked Crosby as he took a sip of his Coca Cola. ‘’Yeah, I, uh, I’m going to be a father’’ he chuckles, but he doesn’t look happy. ‘’Croz, that’s amazing. It’s good news, right?’’ she asked his friend. ‘’Yeah, but no, I don’t know how to be a father after everything.’’ He signed. Y/n gives him a sympatric smile as she listens the other navigator talk about his feelings.
Chaos was outside, Y/n got outside and saw that Harry and Rosie were running outside, near a plane that just landed. Y/n walked up to her friends and looked at the plane. ‘’What’s going on?’’ she asked, smiling. ‘’Gale Cleven and John Egan are back!’’ Crosby exclaims. ‘’They were the best pilots before me!’’ Rosie said. A brunette men came down a plane, a blonde came to hug him. ‘’Crosby!’’ the brunette exclaimed. The guys hugged as Y/n stand there awkwardly. ‘’ And who’s that beautiful lady?’’ the brunette asked, looking up and down at the woman. ‘’Lieutenant Colonel Y/n Y/l/n, and who are you?’’ she extended her hand for him to shake. ‘’Major John Egan but call me Bucky’’ he shook her hand. He kissed the top of her hand, making her blush.
‘’Y/n/n? Ready to go home?’’ Bucky asked the woman; she was saying goodbye to the children on the base. ‘’Yeah, I’m just saying goodbye.’’ She explains as she hugged Lily, a small girl that Y/n spend a lot of time with. ‘’Here, take my necklace’’ Y/n said as she took her necklace off. Lily took the necklace and put it on. ‘’I have to go now. Bye kids!’’ she waved at them as all the kids hugged her. John Egan looked at the scene, smiling at the woman. He loved the fact that Y/n was good with kids.
She poured herself a glass of water as she staired outside the window. ‘’Whiskey?’’ she heard a voice behind her. She turned to see Bucky, they decided to live together since they grew found of each other. They were friends, but they were in love, they just didn’t know it yet. ‘’Water, I can’t stand the sight of alcohol for a while’’ she chuckled. He laughed and asked for a glass of water too. She sat in front of him, drinking the liquid as they looked at each other. ‘’Buck’s weeding is next week’’ Bucky said as he drank the water. ‘’Yeah, I have to go buy a dress, do you want to come with me?’’ she asked. ‘’Sure, we’ll go tomorrow, I have my suit already.’’ He smiles.
She’d been trying on dresses for an hour, and she didn’t find any that she liked. ‘’I’ll go naked! I swear’’ she breathed out. Bucky chuckled. ‘’I’m able to read map and I helped with D-Day plans, but I can’t find a bloody dress’’ she kept complaining as she put on a dress. When she got out, Bucky’s mouth opened slightly, the dress was light green, long but not too long and had little sleeves. It suited Y/n perfectly. ‘’You look amazing in that one!’’ he compliments her, smiling. ‘’Really?’’ she was skeptical, she never really liked wearing a dress. ‘’Yes, you look wonderful!’’ he says again. Y/n blushes and looks at herself in the mirror, the dress was really beautiful. ‘’Yeah, let’s go with this one’’ she smiles.
The night was still young, Y/n was reading a book when she heard Bucky screaming. She threw her book away and ran to his room. Her night gown flew behind her with how fast she was running. She entered his room to see him seated on his bead, sweaty and breathing really fast. ‘’Bucky, what’s wrong?’’ she asked as she walked closer to his bed. He was in pure state of shock. ‘’Bucky, breath’’ she tried to help but this time, his nightmare was too much for him. She didn’t know what to do, usually her presence worked, and he would calm down. ‘’John’’ she whispered. She took his face between her hands to make him look at her. ‘’Breath, John. I’m right here, everything is going to be fine. Breath’’ she said, maintaining eye contact with him. His eyes were filled with distress, he needed help. ‘’Kiss me, please, Y/n, I need to kiss you.’’ He pleaded, his voice weak. Y/n didn’t even hesitate as she pressed her lips against his.
The kiss was filled with passion and love, it helped Bucky realise that she was there and not dead, like in his nightmare. When they pulled away, he was calmer, and he was smiling. ‘’You’re, okay?’’ Y/n asked, concerned for him. He nodded, smiling even harder. ‘’Who would’ve thought that it would take a nightmare for us to kiss’’ he giggled. She gently smacked his shoulder as she scoffed. ‘’You scared me’’ she breathed out as she smiled too. ‘’I’m sorry, I had a nightmare, you died’’ he explained. She hugged her friend as he smelled her. He was touching her, smelling her and he just kissed her; she was real, and alive. She just realized what happened; she just kissed him. Y/n was in love with him, but she didn’t know if he was feeling the same thing. So, she did what everyone would’ve done; she flew away. As Bucky watched her run away, he giggled, she was a nervous person. But tomorrow was Buck’s wedding, and he was going to dance with her.
She entered the room with Bucky, the reception was over, it was beautiful. Buck’s vows made Y/n cry; it was so beautiful. She was looking for Harry Crosby, she had to talk to him about what happened yesterday. When she spotted him, she practically ran to him. ‘’Croz!’’ she exclaimed as she hugged him. ‘’Y/n how are you?’’ he smiled. ‘��I’m great – ‘’ she noticed a woman holding a baby behind him. ‘’ Y/n, can I introduce you to my wife, Jean and my son Stephen’’ he says proudly. ‘’It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot of great things’’ Y/n smiles as she hugs Harry’s wife. ‘’Likewise, it’s nice to meet the woman my husband’s been talking about’’ she smiles. Y/n smiles as her and Jean talks. ‘’Can I talk to Harry for a second?’’ she asked. She nods as Y/n and Harry go for a walk.
Harry Crosby was crying for laughing that much. ‘’How could you run away?’’ he laughs. Y/n laughs as she let out a desperate sign. ‘’I panicked, but I really want to kiss him again’’ she breaths out. Rosie, who joined them, was laughing too. ‘’Then kiss him!’’ Rosie exclaims. ‘’Uh, I wish it was that simple’’ she threw her head back. As she did so, she saw Bucky, staring at her with a grin on his face. ‘’It is simple, love’’ he completed her sentence, making Crosby and Rosie laugh as they walk away from the scene, to let them have privacy. Y/n quickly gets up and walk up to him. ‘’I, uh, I’m sorry for running away yesterday. I panicked’’ she blurts out. Bucky smiles as he puts his hand on her lower back. ‘’It’s okay, Y/n, just kiss me again’’ he whispers. She breaths out nervously as she stands on her tippy toes, their face gets closer as their breathing quickens. ‘’I love you’’ she whispers. ‘’I love you too, love’’ he smiles as he leans in closer. Their kiss was passionate, his other hand went on her cheek to keep her closer. ‘’I love you so much’’ she said between kisses. ‘’Fucking finally!’’ they heard Crosby yell. ‘’Well, well, well’’ Buck chuckled. As they pulled away, they saw Buck, Marge, Harry, Rosie and Jean looking at them. Y/n and Bucky looks at each other before laughing. ‘’Are we going to attend another wedding?’’ Marge squeals. ‘’Maybe’’ Bucky smiles.
#callum turner#callum turner x reader#callum turner imagine#master of the air#master of the air imagine#john egan x reader#major john egan#john egan#anthony boyle#harry crosby#rosie rosenthal#gale buck cleven
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I’m literally one ask away from giving a big ole sneak peak of you want. 💋
please!
Your wish is my joy. 🫶 Thanks again to those who asked about these babes! This is for a Nov-Dec of 1945, Nuremberg Germany.
Note: do yall recall that Rosie Rosenthal broke his nose during one of his crashes? Because i do. And you best believe im using that shit for softness and the hurt/comfort agenda 🌚
|| Nuremberg || (a TWC sneak peak)
Every morning she still wakes and finds them tangled together as is the new habit and Robert will stir and kiss her forehead and squeeze her shoulder and carefully pull his body away before she can feel anything remotely like desire, want, maleness. He gets up then and he often showers and Ida lays there and wonders. He will leave the shower, wet hair in ringlets and face flushed and looking just sleepy enough he needs that coffee he will inevitably make for the two of them and serve her in bed before she’s fully dragged her feet out of the covers.
Shortly before Hannukah begins, there is a morning unlike the others. He doesn’t kiss her, he doesn’t move away, and for a brief moment panicked excitement thrills through her as she concentrates on feeling, trying to feel any part of him beside her, until she hears a panting breath escape him.
She knows pain, she knows the sounds of it being ground out of a person, the sounds of it suppressed just enough not to wake another. She bolts upright before she can even recall that there’s no guards, no guns, no immediate reason for such a calamity. Yet she was right in instinct, Robert has his head turned into the pillow a terrible grimace on the side of his face that she can see.
“What is it?” she whispers in what she’s ashamed to recognize sounds a little closer to rage than panic.
He grits his teeth and his pretty pink lip snarls up along his teeth before he can form the words. “S’my neck. Head. Whole thing. Happens sometimes.”
She recalls the way he waved off an anecdote back at Thorpe Abbotts about breaking his neck in one of his crashes. Back in the saddle six weeks later, that was the focus of the story. Back in the saddle! Indomitable Rosie! The new boys had loved telling Colonel Brady about that one. Ida had wanted to ask if it still hurt, in the same way her pelvis ached for no reason at all.
She hadn’t then, it wasn’t hers to know.
She knew now. It happened sometimes. And it was awful, it would seem.
“From breaking it?” She asks now, clipped and very like an officer and it relieves her immensely to hear that voice come out of her mouth after months of disuse.
Rosie manages a hissed, “Yeah.”
“What helps?”
The stubborn man just winces his eyes shut and tries to shake his head only to cry out. “Nothin’.”
Ida makes a noise that is the anger incarnate given voice.
“It’ll pass.” he tries to molify even as he whines in agony.
“What makes it pass?” she demands, raking back the wildness of her morning hair and staring down at him with the oddest feeling in her gut, anger at his stubbornness, terror at his pain and a very new feeling of surety that she can fix this. No one can stop her, she can fix this.
Robert remains in agony and unhelpful. “I just lay here, Ida.” and his tone holds a request to be left alone, to be left to, in fact, lay there.
Ida glances at the clock and realizes work will not be happening with him laying here. Neither will relief in any timely manner. “Well that’s unsatisfactory.” she decides and carefully gets out of bed so she does not jostle him more than necessary.
Robert only answers the hasty noises of her toilet with moans and she bites her lip and resolves not to find them aggravating: she does so hate the sound of a man moaning, and she’s never had occasion to hear Robert at it. His seem very like all the others and her skin crawls from the sounds of it. Pain or pleasure, it matters nothing to her roiling stomach but she shoves it down and comes back out and places her hand on his crinkled cheek.
“I’m going to get you a hot pack. Then I’m going to tell the judge you’re calling off, then I’m getting a damn doctor with a muscle relaxant. Hold tight.”
She phones the office and finds that without her scalding supervision the secretaries are unhelpful. So after heating an actual warm water bottle and straddling it along his neck and kissing his forehead, she throws on her coat and takes to the streets to visit the court buildings personally and threaten them all into usefulness in his absence. Having accomplished this she sets out to track down the listed three army doctors she was informed might actually be continental despite the holidays. She finds two have indeed gone back to America, the third is continental but vacationing in Austria and a fourth she ferreted out herself refused to leave the army base for love of life or balls. Determined to make local inquiries after first rechecking on her felled husband, she encountered Captain Bauer on the steps again, a perceptive look in his eye at the sight of her crisp urgency.
“All well?” he asks her in his typical, immaculate English.
“My husband is ill.” she gives him that cursory civility.
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” while she digs for the key she ponders about asking him for a local recommendation but his rank sticks in her throat, a captain of the late forces, it’s irksome at best.
“Have you located a physician?” he asks her instead and Ida snaps her head up, giving him a sharp look. “Holidays- it is hard.” he amends, placating, it strikes her as a leading question.
“It is.” she agrees, stalled on her front stoop.
“I know.” he ventures, “I am one.”
She’s quite sure she snarls. It’s a freedom of expression that she has not learned to regovern. There’s something satisfying with the way it makes the man’s eyes drop instantly. “Are you.” she goads, suddenly back under the knife at Sagan German ethics and German medicine and German practicality robbing her of everything. Worse still, it feels like a betrayal to Jack to even speak with one. This doctor looks poorly chastened. Ida hates him for it but it’s the most she’s felt in awhile and it’s pleasant in its way. So is the crestfallen meekness she’s just elicited from him.
“Ja.” he answers her, nods down at the pavement, a shuffle in place of his once strong stance, the German word is not lost on her, all presence of friendliness somehow dissipated by her single expression.
“Are you offering your services?” she wonders herself if she’s asking only to throw it back in his face. She’s never been so unsure of her motive before.
“I would like-“ he casts about for a word and raises his eyes when he does not find it in the paving stones, “-to be of help. Neighbors and all. It is the holidays.” the way he adds the last part is so simple and plaintive she thinks if this man had been able to vocalize such a sentiment before, there’d have been no war at all. Her blood rushes and she feels close to fury.
She chooses to bite. “My husband is a Jew.” she has never had reason to say that before, it is always Rosie making the jokes and she has never cared. Not until now. “Will that be of any matter, captain?” she asks, daring him.
The shake of his head is violent, instant, closer to a shudder. “Nei- no. No. Not- no.”
Ida finds the fury leaching away. “Mm.” She looks him up and down and he is younger than he seems, only maybe in his mid thirties but worn down and graying, and he carries himself like a man recalling his defeat only recently: somehow it is more palatable than the crushed figures at the marketplace. “It’s an injury, his neck from a crash. I think a relaxant might be in order.” she watches him nod, meek and unassuming and it’s a wrong look for that strong Aryan jaw but it’s smart of him. “Have you any supplies?”
“I- yes, I do.” he insists. “The padre he- I help. He sends me patients.”
Ida turns her key, the door cracks open and she thinks worryingly of how long she’s left her husband. “Then bring them, please.” she steps over her threshold, “The supplies, not the patients. Ring the bell.”
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10 miles from boston harbor: a Kfak Crank drabble for @reallylilyreally
The thing about Boston is that even when one was miles away from the Seaport, if the wind was right and the weather kind, sometimes it was possible to smell the ocean on the breeze.
They never could in Thorpe, except maybe when the fog rolled in, but sometimes Crank had sworn he was able to, his nose seeking out any hint of salt and brine like a bloodhound. Maybe it was some innate sense built from summers crabbing on ocean causeways and working on his uncles Lobster Boat once he was old enough to swim and handle a knife. Landlocked in Germany, there’d been no salt or seaweed aroma and sometimes Crank was sure he withered for it.
He’s ten miles from Boston Harbor.
Windows thrown open because his mother always insisted on cleaning with the windows open and now he’d been trained into the habit as well and he’s breathing in the salty smell like it’s the only thing keeping him on this continent.
And he’s breathing because somewhere in his cleaning of this apartment he’d barely begun to make his own he’d taken his watch off to avoid damaging it. And he’s forgotten where that spot happened to be. And so he does not know what time it is and his gut is telling him it’s getting close to ten o’clock which is an awful thing for his body to have been trained to remember but he doesn’t know when ten o’clock will be and now he isn’t sure how he’s going to save Johnny Brady’s life for another day.
He’s supposed to feed Johnny numbers like they’re food and shrug at Benny helplessly when the other man shoots him a silent question.
He’s fine today. He’s just coping same as anyone else. Badly and with horrible desperation.
There’s a faint tanline, nothing impressive because Crank hadn’t met a color that could stick to his skin other than pale, but there nonetheless with damning clarity.
He’s ten miles from Boston Harbor and he doesn't know where his watch is and he needs to be able to tell John Brady what time it is because for some reason that had become his job and he doesn’t resent it really but he’s ten miles from Boston Harbor and it wouldn’t feel like it if it were not for the salt and brine.
In some ways it had been reassuring. It was routine, it meant things weren’t happening elsewhere in the compound. Crank couldn’t sleep so he watched Johnny not sleep, watched him lose his breakfast to nerves day and ask him for the time and go off to pray for all them sinners with clenched-jaw determination as if there was some way he could still win the war while on his knees.
Or save them all, at the very least.
Maybe it worked, Crank wouldn’t put it past Johnny to drag out a miracle with his teeth and thin-faced fury.
But he needs to find his watch.
He’s ten miles from the Boston Harbor and John Brady is even farther, and he probably has someone else telling him the time instead of Charles Crank.
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For the Situations ask, I'd love to see Reverse Amnesia if it inspires you!! ♥️
Thank you, dear! 💕 @middlingmay also requested this one 😊
6. Reverse amnesia (everyone else has no memory/recognition of your character)
Bucky saunters over to their makeshift baseball field at Thorpe Abbotts, eager to participate in the game the guys are about to set up. It’s a pleasant, sunny day, no mission planned. Being alive doesn’t feel like an illusion for once, and Bucky's smile comes quick and easy like it used to before the war. He’s grinning behind his sunglasses as he reaches the group and claps Curt on the back.
"Hey, boys. Beautiful day for a game, huh?"
He nods at Douglass and Murph, but their nod back is hesitant. The others glance at each other as if Bucky has just broken some unspoken rule he wasn’t aware of. A frown tugs at Bucky’s eyebrows, but he tries to shrug his unease off.
"Can I join?"
When Curt pulls away from him, he knows that something is very, very wrong.
"Uh, sure, why not." Curt says awkwardly, but with his natural friendliness shining through. He has a tentative, crooked smile as he looks Bucky up and down. "Blakely, you got a spot for the big fella?"
Bucky's smile fades into a baffled expression. He takes his sunglasses off and looks around to see if a mouth twitches or if eyes squint in mischief at the prank they're trying to pull on him, but they all look serious. As if they’ve never met him.
"I s'pose." Blakely drawls, then steps forward and offers Bucky a hand to shake. "Ev Blakely."
Bucky accepts the hand numbly, but he continues looking around, waiting for everyone to double over laughing. But they don’t. They stare at him as if he was a stranger. An intruder, even. An impostor.
"Is this a joke?" Bucky asks, directing his question at Curt, because Curt is his best friend after Gale, and if anyone’s going to notice that this stopped being funny to Bucky, it’s going to be him.
But Curt just shares a look with Blakely and gives Bucky a confused smile. "What?"
Fear grips Bucky's heart with its icy fingers. "Okay, very funny. You know who I am."
"Our new CO?" Someone pipes up, and the boys laugh.
"Must be a replacement." Brady tells Curt, his cool eyes unimpressed as they glance at Bucky.
"Right." Curt says as if a lightbulb lit up in his head. "Sorry, man, forgot your name. Did we meet at the pub?"
"Quit it already." Bucky puts his hands on his hips, displeased. "Come on, you wanna stand around wasting time with your little prank or you wanna play?"
Curt turns uncharacteristically serious. "Look, we don’t know you, okay? No idea what you're yapping about."
Bucky raises a hand to his forehead in disbelief. His dread starts to spread through his body as panicked questions pop in his mind. He could be dead, and this might be his ghost possessing another body. He could be lying in a German field unconscious, the future of his memory playing behind his eyes. Once a man is shot down, he’s forgotten. His name nothing, his bed, his friends, his plane taken over by new faces, and nobody cares. There’s no legacy. No remembrance.
He's dead.
Dead, dead, dead, dead -
Bucky wakes up with a racing heart and a stinging pain behind his eyes that signals the rapid buildup of tears. He tries to breathe through it without letting the wetness spill and reorient himself. It’s the crack of dawn, and he’s warm under a thick, decidedly not army-issued blanket. The sweet, familiar smell of home lingers in the air. His pillow cradles his head with gentle comfort. And beside him, on his left, Gale sleeps peacefully curled up. His hands are wedged under his pillow, and there's a serene expression on his face that Bucky is able to make out even in the dim light.
The war has been over for years already, Bucky remembers now with complete clarity. It’s not him who's dead, but Curt, his dear friend, who lived with more life and soul than anyone else Bucky had known. And Bucky... He made it. He did, he’s sure. Still - he was just as certain of his existence in his dream as he is now. What if this is his nightmare continuing?
He hates himself for it, but he reaches over the space between them and shakes Gale’s shoulder.
He can tell that the very first touch is enough to wake Gale. He used to be a soldier trained to be alert at the slightest change, and it's not something you just shake off, even in the safety of your home. But, after years of living away from danger, Gale has developed the ability to fall back asleep just as fast if he decides that there's nothing pressing that demands him to get up. It almost makes Bucky smile, the way Gale’s breathing stops for that moment of clarity, then evens out again in blissful rest. He doesn’t even move a muscle or crack an eye open to look at Bucky.
Bucky shakes him again. "Buck."
The faintest of grunts answers him.
"Do you know who I am?"
Gale breathes in and out slowly, body and face still slack, one step away from sleep. "Who?" He mumbles.
Bucky purses his lips, his distress rising. "It’s not a rhetorical question!" He whispers with more emphasis. "Do you remember me?"
Gale squints at him for a moment, then unfolds and wraps his arm around Bucky’s chest to slot his body against Bucky's. He presses a dry, uncoordinated kiss to Bucky's jaw and goes boneless again. The weight of his arm is comforting. Bucky finds himself breathing easier under it. He puts a hand on Gale’s forearm and strokes it.
"Go to sleep, John." Gale mumbles and follows his own advice immediately.
Bucky loves him too much to be jealous of that ability. He closes his eyes and lets his relief wash the tension out of his body.
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