#AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON ROSIE AND JOHN

[peachy-keenss]

i’ll make real rendered art sometime soon…but ahhh Rosemary…my daughter…i think about how she mingles with her family a bit.

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ part twelve ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

John is holding newborn baby Shae, rocking her gently in his arms as he walks around the living room, trying to soothe her cries.

Despite his soft humming, she continues to fuss, her tiny wails echoing through the room. Shae's delicate features scrunch up with the intensity of her cries, her little fists clenched tightly.

“I just got the little monkeys to sleep,” you whisper, coming down the stairs. You notice the weariness etched on John's face, and your heart aches for him. “Want me to take her?”

“Yes, please,” John sighs, relief flooding his features as he hands Shae over to you.

The moment your chunky little baby is in your arms, she stops crying, taking a shuddery breath and nuzzling close to you. Her tiny fingers grasp at your shirt, her big, curious eyes looking up at you with a hint of recognition.

John sits on the sofa, looking defeated with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. You sit on the other end, giving him space.

You've heard of couples growing distant after having a baby, but you don't remember it being like this with your first two children.

John looks up, noticing you watching him. The distance between you since Shae's birth is palpable, and he can't stand it.

Leaning back against the couch, he finally breaks the silence. “It does get easier after a while, right? She’ll stop hatin’ me sooner or later?”

You shrug, glancing down at baby Shae, who finally likes more like you than John this time.

“Just felt like it was a bit easier with Gabe and Linnie.”

“You were either deployed or sneaking off to your second family most of the time; it’s probably just hard for you to remember,” you say bluntly.

John stiffens, your words hitting him hard. He looks at you, remorse evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry…” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“Water under the bridge,” you reply, offering a soft smile to Shae, admiring her big eyes and rosy, round cheeks.

“She doesn’t cry because she hates you,” you explain gently. “She can just tell that you’re stressed.”

John processes your words, looking down at the baby in your arms. “Y’sure?”

You nod and move the baby closer to him. “Here, try to relax.”

“I’ve been trying,” John sighs, rubbing a hand over Shae's little swirl of a cowlick at the back of her head. “She jus’ screams her li’l lungs out.”

“You can’t just never hold your daughter again because she cries,” you insist. “Hold her.”

John takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. He moves carefully, taking Shae into his arms. She starts fussing again, her cries piercing the quiet room. John’s expression darkens, his frustration evident. “C’mon, Chunky Monkey… Don’t cry,” he pleads quietly.

You scoot closer, placing a soothing hand on his thigh. “Just relax. She’ll calm down.”

John's tense frame gradually loosens as you press a gentle kiss to his shoulder. He looks down at Shae, her cries becoming quieter. “See? She's calming down,” you say softly.

"You sure?" John asks, his voice tinged with hope. He watches as Shae's crying diminishes to soft whimpers. He takes a deep breath and finally cracks a small smile.

“If mommy and daddy are happy, baby's happy," you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder.

John's smile grows as he holds Shae, her chubby little hands clutching his chest. “Skin-to-skin helps a lot, too,” you suggest.

John snorts. “You think if I took my shirt off, she’d calm down even more?”

You nod earnestly. John hesitates but then removes his shirt, placing Shae directly on his chest. She finally stops crying, her tiny body relaxing against his. Her skin feels warm against his, and her little feet, no bigger than his thumb, curl up contentedly.

John’s expression softens. “Huh…”

“What’d ya know, your wife is a genius,” you grin, lovingly rubbing Shae’s back. You feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, and it reassures you both.

John chuckles, his earlier stress melting away as he holds his baby girl close. “She loves you,” you say gently. “She just loves you relaxed.”

Shae remains still and calm against John’s bare chest, her breathing soft and even. John looks at her with pure adoration, softly rocking her. “I can carry her up to her bassinet,” you offer.

“…I think I can,” John replies, standing up slowly with Shae in his arms. He walks carefully upstairs, rubbing her back gently. Her head rests against his shoulder, her tiny mouth opening in a big yawn.

You watch with a small smile as John heads to your office; the temporary nursery. After a moment, he stops at the top of the stairs and looks down at you. “Bed?”

John is already sitting at the end of the bed when you enter. You try to sit next to him, but he pulls you into his lap instead.

“Things haven’t been right with us, love.” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you.

“I don’t want us to do this… passive-aggressive, barely speaking to each other thing anymore.” You look into his eyes, seeking understanding. “We promised that we’d communicate, John.”

John nods, his voice breaking. “I know, love… You were right downstairs; I wasn’t around enough for Gabriel or Linnie, and I wasn’t around much for Theo, either.” Tears well up in his eyes. “I’ve just been sick at the thought of another one of my children growing up with me hardly around.”

Your heart breaks hearing him express his fears. You hold his head to your chest, pressing kisses to his hair and rubbing his back soothingly. You let him cry, offering him the comfort he needs. “You’re an amazing dad, babe… Theo is amazing, Gabriel and Linnie are such good kids… No doubt Shae will be even better, because she’ll get you full time,” you murmur. “You have nothing to be worried about when it comes to the kids.”

John lifts his head from your chest, looking at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just… promise we won’t do this passive-aggressive stuff anymore. I know new babies are stressful, but the kids need to see us happy. Okay?”

“I promise.” John whispers, holding you tightly. He kisses you briefly, resting his forehead against yours. For a moment, he just enjoys holding you, feeling a sense of peace and connection that he has long missed.

•••

You head outside at 3:30 and meet your oldest child at the bus stop, holding his hand on the little walk back to the house.

Gabriel seems to walk slower than usual, looking deep in thought. As you two get closer to the house, he lets go of your hand and turns to you.

"Mummy, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, monkey."

He looks up at you as you both walk inside of the house. "How did you and daddy get married?"

"Hmm. That's a good question." You glance at John, who has a head full of ponytails and is using chubby baby Shae as a dunbell, making Linnie giggle like crazy.

Gabriel looks at John and smiles a bit as he watches him being all silly with his sisters. He turns his head back to you, waiting for the answer.

"Mommy and daddy met each other at a... park." You fib a bit, not wanting to tell your six year old that you were at a bar. "And I looked right at your daddy and I told him that he was so handsome that I wanted to be his girlfriend."

This was pretty much the truth... You actually drunkenly told him that he was gorgeous, and that you wanted to have a hundred of his kids.

"Really? And then he was your boyfriend?"

Gabriel's innocent and curious blue eyes look up at you, and John watches from a distance as well.

You nod with a smile "And then he was my boyfriend!"

Gabriel nods a bit, smiling now. "How long until you two got married and had kissies?" He asks earnestly.

"One long year." You snort.

"Did he take you on lots of fancy dates?" Gabriel is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you as if this is a serious matter.

"Lots of dates, but not always fancy ones. Sometimes daddy would take me on a picnic at the park, sometimes we would go to a movie..."

"What did you guys talk about on all those dates?" Your oldest continues the interrogation.

You laugh again, looking to John this time.

John grins from where he's been watching, he looks a bit amused by the fact that Gabriel's full of questions now. He watches you, waiting to hear your reply.

"We talked about nice things... Daddy would tell me how pretty l am, and I would tell daddy how handsome he is... We talked about how many babies we wanted and what kind of house we wanted to live in..."

"And you guys talked about love?" Gabriel asks again, giggling this time.

"Mhmm. Daddy told me he loved me really soon, right daddy?" You look back at John with a grin.

"It was about two months in, eh?" John chuckles a bit, thinking back to the first time he ever told you he loved you.

"More like two weeks." You chortle.

John's eyes open up a lot as he stares at you and then laughs hard. "Oh come on. It was at least two months."

"Your daddy loved me right away." You shrug.

John grins, remembering when he was just a bit love-drunk when he first confessed to you.

Gabriel giggles a bit at the reaction, then speaks once more. "And do you guys still love each other?"

"Of course we do." You ruffle Gabriel's hair.

"Well… How come Theo has a different mummy?”

You and John look at each other, both not knowing how to explain this to a young child.

Your middle child’s face scrunches up in thought. “How come Nadia Mummy and Theo live so far away?”

John carefully sets Shae in her bouncer before he turns back to you and the older kids, his short brown hair still standing up in about 8 or 9 hair ties all over his head.

“Well, erm…” He clears his throat. “See, before I even knew your mum, I was married to Theo’s mum.”

The middle child gasps. “Did you have kissies with her?!”

“Christ…” John rubs a hand over his stubble.

“You have to have kissies to be married, dummy.” Your oldest tries to roll his eyes at his younger sister, but actually just looks up at the ceiling with a frown.

“Gabriel Kyle, don’t call sissy a dummy.” You sigh.

“Yes, we kissed, but that was long, long before I knew mummy;” John continues, “When I lived in England, where Nadia and Theo live.”

“Daddy?” Your middle child clings to her dad’s back, her little arms wrapped around his neck. “Can we live in England?”

“No,” John shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“Why?” Your oldest’s frown turns into a pout.

John looks to you now, wanting your help in explaining this to the kids.

But you don’t.

You just stare back, offering a small shrug of your shoulders.

“Why not?”

John’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wh- huh?”

You shrug again, a small smile tugging at your lips just at the thought. “You’d be closer to Theo that way, the kids would be closer to your parents, too. They’ve only met Gabriel, they haven’t met the girls.”

“You’re being serious, love?” John asks, seriously considering.

You nod, trying to take your husband seriously with his ridiculous hair. “I’d love to.”

“England! England! England!” The kids cheer. Even baby Shae’s round face lights up with a gummy smile.

“Guess we’re movin’,” John smirks.

<< prev next >>

[the-californicationist]

he comes closer and closer...

Price/Reader - TW: bondage, explicit consent, anal fingering, begging, male whimpering, edgeplay, blowjobs

“I want you to remember, especially in an hour or so, that you asked for this,” you kissed his bearded cheek softly, smelling his cologne, “Begged for it, even.”

“Aye. I did,” he replied, his accent thick and heady.

Captain Price was fully naked and strapped down to his office desk, tied with a length of paracord. His body was stretched out like a rubber band, his skin shining from sweat and covered in dark hair. You could hear his labored breathing and feel his eyes on you, watching you as you walked around the desk, rubbing his arms and legs with your hands, playing with his nipples, fondling him everywhere except where he wanted you to. 

“And yet, you say I’m being unfair?” You pouted playfully, settling yourself between his knees, purposely avoiding his twitching cock.

“Edging involves at least a little…attention. Touch me, love. Please.”

“Begging again? How desperate you are tonight,” you smiled, lowering your mouth just above where his pink head could reach. Watching his hips and cock strain towards you was enchanting. 

“Baby, please, it aches. You can’t…please, don’t just leave me like this.”

“Maybe just one little taste, hmm? Just to see if you’ll be a good boy.”

“I will,” he strained harder, fighting the ropes, “I will, I promise. Please-please-please…”

“I don’t know, Captain. Do you remember the rules?”

“Yes, love, I remember. Please, just -”

“Tell me.”

He sighed, and you watched his abs flex on the exhale, his belly convulsing with his ragged breaths,

“I have to warn you when I come, and…”

“And?” You drug out the word like a sticky strand of taffy, pulling it to the point of breaking. 

“...and if I don’t, I can’t have your cunt.”

“No, you can’t. So, be good, John. Show me you want this pussy.”

He growled, 

“Fuck, I want it right bloody now. Please, baby, I -”

“Shh. Enough. You need to learn patience, my darling. We’re just getting started.”

You put a dollop of lube in your hand and rubbed it all over his shaft. He was so swollen, and the cockring you put around him had kept him that way for a while. It was wrapped around the base of his shaft and under his balls, stretching the skin and keeping it rigid. He was grunting as you worked him, his whole body reacting to your touch. The desk creaked as he strained against it. You were a little concerned about its integrity. If he broke the straps, or the desk, there were no rules left to bind him. 

“Mmm, unhgh…yeah, just like that. Fuuuuuck…” Price groaned loudly. 

You stopped, pulling away from him with a wet pop. 

“Ah! No, no, no…” He complained. 

You ran your fingers up and down his torso, threatening to touch his cock again. Every time you got close, you could hear the wood of the desk cry out, stretching from his strength. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” You asked him, licking his nipple, biting his skin. 

“Oh, fuck, yes it does. Please, come back.”

You returned to his cock, but instead of quick solid strokes, you pulled him slowly, painfully slowly, and at an odd angle, so none of his regular sensations were available for him to hold onto. Each time you pulled up and over his cockhead, he would grunt for you, like an angry bull. 

Changing your grip, you massaged his balls and he sighed. Then, you rubbed his inner thighs and the skin behind his sack and between his legs, pressing on his internal root, jerking it as if it were his cock at the surface. It made his dick flag up and down as you did so, and he did everything he could to move you either forwards or back, being cruelly teased by your positioning. 

You stopped again. You heard him groan deep and low. His cock was rosy pink, flushed with blood and thicker than you’d ever seen it. You put some lube on your finger and dipped between his legs, finding his asshole, warm and covered in thick hair. He jolted, as much as the ropes would allow.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you remember Warsaw?”

His eyes were wild, but then they went ice cold, the realization washing over him. You chuckled, continuing, rimming your finger around his hole as you spoke, 

“You found me during our field training, and you held me down, plunging those fingers into my pussy and my ass, not allowing me to come for a whole evening, telling me that only bad soldiers got caught, and since I was bad, I didn’t deserve an orgasm. Have you been bad, John?”

You slipped a finger past his outer muscles, feeling the smooth skin inside of his asshole, massaging it in slow, aching circles. He held his breath, but he was shaking his head back and forth, protesting against your appraisal of his sins. You checked in with him, pausing your movements.

“Green or yellow?”

It took a few moments, but he growled out a very clear, 

“Green, love. Green.”

You pushed your finger in until you found the spot you were looking for. You began to rub little firm circles inside of him while jerking his cock with your free hand. There was so much to love about the feedback you were getting from him. His face was wide with intense pleasure, and his pupils were fully blown. You thrust your hand around him faster, focusing on his head. As soon as you saw his eyes clench shut, you removed yourself from him entirely. 

“No! Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, frustrated and desperate for you to let him finish. 

“Mmm, about to break a rule, Captain? You never were good at following orders.”

You sucked his cock into your mouth, softly, gently, and applied almost no suction. He bucked against the table, slamming his hips and back into the wood. You could hear the ropes tightening against their bites. He was groaning and shaking from your warm, wet mouth. You lay your tongue at the base of his head and began to lap at his skin in long, slow licks. It was too slow and soft for him to feel any release, but it was enough to drive him past the point of normalcy. 

“Fuck! Fuck, more. More, love. I need more, please. Please. Please! Fuuuuuuck.”

You put your finger at the entrance of his asshole, but you didn’t enter him again. Still, he throbbed in your mouth, just the idea of you touching him inside gave him the same sensation. You pulled him out of you and leisurely massaged his dick again, keeping him right on the edge of his pleasure. Price was literally trembling with every moment of your touch, loudly grunting, unashamed of his behavior. 

Then, you decided to finger him again, taking it away the moment his breathing changed. You put him back in your mouth. Then, you took him out. At one point, you left him altogether, making a cup of tea and drinking it while you sat in his office chair, watching him watch you. Smiling. He thrashed against the ropes. 

He really was terrifying, objectively. Price could kill you in less than a second if he wanted to. He was enormous, muscular, and sharp as a knife. There was no where you could run, and there was no chance of you fighting him off. As you watched him writhe and pull at his bindings, you studied his form. His strong legs and huge ass provided immense leverage against the desktop, bowing the edges of its planks downward - ever so slightly - as he thrust against it. The captain’s wide chest bulged with his mountainous shoulders, causing the rope to whine as it tightened on its knot, the fibers stretching past their limits. Every time he threw his hips down in blissful agony, the whole room shuddered. He was like some sort of beast you’d caught in a trap. A tiger by the tail. 

Finally, you decided to end his suffering, but he didn’t know that. As you approached the desk again, he began to beg you,

“Please, love. Please. I’ll be good. I promise. Please, let me come. I’ll be good. Baby, please…”

There it was. That’s what you wanted. An obedient Price was a rare sight, and seeing him unfold right before your very eyes, like a rose in bloom, relaxing into your will - it was mesmerizing. You wanted to rub your nose in those pliant petals, bend them back away from his honeyed center. You were hooked. 

“Mmm. That's it, baby. Surely, such a good boy deserves a reward, hm?”

“Oh, fuck,” his tone was dark now that he knew what was coming. 

You put your mouth on him and grabbed his balls gently in your hand, sucking him with a strong rhythm, massaging his heavy sack with each thrust of your head. Price wasn’t that long, but his girth was a struggle. You pushed past it, giving the man what he’d been waiting for, choking yourself, pulling off his cockring and letting the blood flow back into his core as you swallowed his head in the back of your throat. 

"I'm gonna come. Oh, my God. I'm gonna fuckin' come, baby. Yes-yes-yes...ahhh!"

The wait was so worth it. With each bob of your head, he seized and panicked. It was as if every suckle was giving him a separate orgasm, and he came like a firehose. It squirted down your throat, hot and salty, and he was screaming for you. You were certain the whole base could hear him, even though they were all the way in the barracks. His legs locked out straight, pulling the ropes tight, and his back arched off of the desk in perfect agony. 

You drained his cock by pulling out the last few drops from his shaft, licking them up like dripping ice cream from a cone. Then, you untied his legs and hands. He lay there, panting, his face twisted in complexity, feeling aftershocks and riding them out, sated and drunkenly happy. 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, girl, you better start runnin'. As soon as I get my legs, you are in for it.”

You bolted for the door, looking back at him over your shoulder, grinning. He had already rolled off of the desk and was trying to throw on his shorts, stumbling, slowly catching his bearings, quickly getting ready to hunt you down.

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

Read Part 2 here.

[rodolfoparras]

Pairing: John Price x Male reader

Cw: sexual tension

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Sergeant,” Price says as you search for the shaving tools located in his very small bathroom.

You just wave him off with your hand, silently cheering when you find what you were looking for before instructing him to take a seat on the toilet lid.

Price is quick to do as you say, before proceeding to try and undo the buttons on his shirt with his injured hand.

Eventually with some struggles he gets the shirt unbuttoned but has no success in taking it off.

“Here let me help” you say standing so close your knees knock together as your warm hands gently push his away.

Price only manages a nod in response trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck ears and cheeks as you help take off his clothing.

“Are you cold?” You say, probably noticing the goosebumps rising on his skin.

“No just get on with it” he grunts out, tipping his chin up.

You just chuckle at his antics before you lather up his face, watching the grays in his beard get coated in shaving cream.

“Just the chin and -“

“And a bit of the cheeks I know” you say with a playful smile on your face as you take the razor in your hand.

“You’re one grumpy old man you know?” You say with a chuckle, eyes flickering up to see the look on his face only to realize just how close you are standing to the older man.

For a second you feel yourself getting lost in those cerulean eyes; the way his black lashes fan against his cheeks, and the way his rosy lips stand out amongst the white foam lathered onto his skin.

“Tilt your head up a bit more” you say voice breathy and strained, forcing yourself to break the eye contact to focus on the task at hand.

He does as you say and although you’re no longer looking at him, you can feel the way his eyes follow your movements as you gently drag the razor across his cheek

Once you’re done with his cheeks. you move down to his chin, slowly but surely uncovering a faded scar on his skin.

He must’ve noticed you looking at it because he starts to speak

“I got it when I first enlisted” he says voice tinted with embarrassment “fell face first, ended up with a big scar right on my face, thought a beard would do a good job at covering it up”

Before you can even register what you’re doing your thumb caresses the scarred skin.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his own and once again you loose yourself in them.

For a second it feels like he’s leaning in closer because before you know of it you’re a hair away from his lips and you completely forget what you’re doing in the first place because suddenly your hand jerks and you’re drawing blood on his cheek.

Price hisses and quickly pulls away.

“Shit! Sorry sorry,” you say, watching the way he quickly walks over to the sink.

What you don’t see is the way he tries to blink back the haze from his eyes, the way he prays and hopes the cool water is enough to sooth his blush and the way his pulse is roaring in his ears as he cleans the blood of his cheek.

After wiping his face completely he returns back to his seat.

“I’m really so-“

“It’s fine,” he grunts out in response “Just get it done and over with sergeant,” he says, this time avoiding your gaze and nervously tapping on his leg

[moshpitgamma]

My Sunflower|| John Dory x Fiancé!Reader

Warnings:Angst+Fluff

(This is my first real fanfic so Plss don’t be TOO harsh)

YALL ITS LONG OK���

——————————————————————

“John! I’m home!” Said the exhausted troll walking through the door of their shared apartment. “Huh? Damn it’s 9pm.” Y/n said checking the time. “Hun, You here?” They screamed again wondering why their fiancé wasn’t answering. When they didn’t get a response they started to get anxious, but convinced themselves he went to either the studio or to hang out with his brothers.

The clock finally hits 11:03pm and still there isn’t a sign of JD. “Why isn’t he answering his phone?” You said with worry laced in your voice. His brothers also didn’t answer their phones for god knows what. Now you’re in full panic mode pacing back and forth in the dining room blowing UP his phone with messages and calls. After your many failed attempts of contacting him you finally decided to call the only person you KNEW that was gonna pick up. So you called his grandma.

Once she answered you tried to hide your anxiousness and your panicked voice, but she caught on to it quickly. “Hi Mrs. Rosie, do you know where John is? I haven’t spoke to him since this morning before I went to work.” You asked frantically hoping that she would cure the pulsating adrenaline going through your body. When you finished your nauseating questions the silence you both held was fueling it like you were going to burst. When the never ending silence finally came to an end a sigh was heard. "Hun Bun….JD left hours ago after their embarrassing show fail." she told you with reassurance and empathy. She then continued to tell you how and what happened between the brothers. The last thing you ever heard from her was “Sweetie just give it time.” So you waited…

And waited….

And waited….

Until 20 years have passed and still no sign of John. You were invited to the royal wedding of King Grisel and Bridget and was currently trying to find a dress. While rampaging you closet like a mad woman you come across and unfamiliar bagged dress. When you took it out you stared at it with tears welling up in your eyes. It was your dress he proposed to you in. It was admired in jewels and yellow sunflower like petals and soft like satin and silk. It was one of a kind. Your debating stopped instantly and you proceeded to put on the dress.

FAST FORWARD TO WEDDING :>

“We are gathered here today t-.” “STOP THE WEDDING!” A random voice yelled…

You felt like your heart was going to jump out your chest from all the adrenaline rushing. Trying to force your tears down you finally built enough courage to turn around and look to where everyone else was looking. When you finally saw who it was your tears finally escaped their haunted and sorrowful chamber. He was there……

Standing in front of Branch?

Trying to pick him up?

You didn’t wanna get noticed in this state so you turned to leave but you felt a hand grab your flushed smaller ones. It was Branch..”Are you ok?”he asked knowing you weren’t. “I’m ok.” You said quickly dismissing his attempts of comfort. Before you could leave you heard a nickname you never knew you would hear again. “My sunflower?” He must’ve felt the tension he created so he hurried to you and begged you too listen to his explanations and excuses. You couldn’t do nothing, BUT listen so you gave him 3 minutes. “The reason I left was because Brozone was turning into a disaster and I needed to just space myself away for a while!”

You didn’t know whether to be mad or sad or HELL even glad but you knew he was trying to get you to understand. “But did you have to go?” Tears welling up..

Silence…….

“Did you have to leave me alone without telling me ANYTHING?!!?”

“I-“ you didn’t let him finish before you started walking off letting the emotions and realization sink in. He knew he fucked up… He couldn’t let you leave…. He needed his flower…He ran up to you and hugged you as hard as he could to prevent you from leaving and cried like hell was dragging him away from the heaven he created with you. “Sunflower PLEASE, I promise I’ll never leave you again!!” He repeated like his life depended on it. You slowly started to give in and soothed him. “Please Hun, I promise I’ll pro-“ He couldn’t even get done with his sentence before feeling the feeling he oh so missed….

Your lips…

“Please Don’t leave me again.” You said barely above a whisper and your teary E/C eyes looked at him.

He smiled warmly and responded with nothing but sincerity..”Of course not my sunflower.”

THE ENDDDDDDD☺️🫶🏿

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

I'll come pick it up after pt.11

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: Y/n starts to lose hope, but he and his silly mustache made her a promise...

Warning: Historical inaccuracies/ mention of violence/ medical inaccuracies/ allusion to sex/ crying (joy)/

Word count: 1,4k

A/n: I can't watch Friday's episode because I watch it with my father and I'm away, so I'm just going to guess what's going to happen and pray for no spoilers. Again it's pure fiction so yeah. Thanks for all the like, the comments and the reblogs. I love reading what you have to say about my story. Love y'all :)

Weeks passed since she had the news that Bucky didn’t made it home. She was hoping to hear that he was coming back. But her hope was starting to fade, a small part of her still thought he was going to come home, and they could get married. Days past, she was thinking about him all the time, his smile, his mustache, his arms and his eyes. She wanted to remember his face, but even if she tried to forget him, it wouldn’t be possible. She loved him too much to forget him this easily. Harry Crosby was her best friend during this time of loneliness, him and Meatball tried to make her smile all the time. She spent time with the kids that were with the mechanics. One of them had lost a hand, so he had a metal hook, it didn’t bother him, he was making jokes about it, he was strong. Today was a normal day, it was the beginning of winter, so the temperature was colder than usual. She was in her uniform with a vest, to protect her from the cold. There was only one man in the hospital, he had lost his middle finger, and he needed to stay here so the nurses could make sure it didn’t get infected. She was checking his wound when Harry Crosby came rushing in. His eyes filled with a spark. ‘’Y/n, he’s back… Buck too’’ he said, smiling. She dropped the tool she was using; she didn’t believe him. Her heart filled with joy. ‘’Croz you better not be lying to me.’’ She warned, smiling. ‘’He’s here, Y/n, he came back.’’

He walked into the base like a champion, he made it back, with his best friend and the other soldiers that were captured. He still didn’t know how he managed to escape, but he did, that’s what was important. Men were cheering for him like he was the president of the United States. He was back home. ‘’Good to see you Bucky!’’ Rosie cheered as he hugged him. ‘’Good to be back Rosie!’’ he replied. John Egan was happy to see his friend, but only one person mattered: His future wife. When they heard Meatball bark, the men in front of Bucky stepped away, knowing he was always with the chief nurse, they wanted to let Bucky reunite with his girl in peace. Then he saw her, in her nurse uniform, her hair was a mess, probably from the running she just did. She stopped when she saw him, realizing that her pilot was back home. She breathed as joy tears fell off her eyes. They looked at each other for a couple of seconds before they both ran in the direction of the others. She jumped in his arms, hugging him like a koala. He hugged her so tightly he thought he was going to strangle her. ‘’You’re real, please tell me your real?’’ she whispered. ‘’I’m really here, darling, God, I’ve missed you!’’ he said. ‘’I love you too, John, I love you and don’t ever leave me again!’’ she said, kissing him.

God, he missed the feelings of her lips on his. They didn’t even care about the men cheering for him and his girl, about the men telling him to ‘’get a room’’ He came back for her. ‘’I love you too, darling’’ he mumbled against her lips. He noticed the ring she wore, his ring. He took it off her finger, she was confused, but when she saw him kneeling down on one knee, she understood. ‘’Y/n, my beautiful darling, will you marry me?’’ he asked, already knowing the answer. ‘’Yes, thousand time yes!’’ she said, kissing him as he put the ring back where it belonged. The men cheered and yelled their happiness. The feeling was euphoric, he just asked her to properly marry her, they were going to get married. When they stopped hugging, Y/n ran to Buck, she’d missed him too. He was one of her best friends. They became close, before he disappeared. ‘’Told you I’d protect him’’ he said, smiling. ‘’Shut up and hug me’’ she said, hugging him. ‘’Congratulations future Mrs. Egan’’ he said in her ear. ‘’You know your already the best men, right?’’ Bucky yelled. They both laughed as a Jeep approached. It was Crosby, with the nurses, because put the joy aside, the men were injured. Bucky had a black eye, it was swollen and had bleed, he was in bad shape. When Elodie came out of the Jeep, she ran towards Buck, hugging him and kissing him.

Bucky put his arms around his girl. ‘’Darling, I’ll need a doctor, they beat us up pretty badly’’ he confessed. ‘’I got Major Egan! Elodie, take care of Major Cleven, others, find yourself someone to heal’’ she ordered her nurses, making the Buck’s grin. They got in the Jeep and went back to the medical center. She still couldn’t believe he was alive, and she was engaged to him. Now she was going to treat his injuries. When they arrived at the medical centre, she guided him to her office. She needed privacy with him, not that she planned on having sex, but if it happened, they would be alone. When she closed the door, he roughly kissed her, he was eager for her, he needed her. ‘’Bucky, I need to look at your wounds’’ she says, giggling. ‘’All right, look at them’’ he said, taking his shirt off, in a seductive way. She looked at his chest, full of bruises, it was bad. ‘’What did they do to you?’’ she whispered. She touched the bruises, making him hiss in pain. ‘’You probably have broken ribs. Your face, well it’s just bruised. What did the pirate wanted?’’ she tried to joke. ‘’They wanted me to talk about you, and Buck, and all the secrets the army told. But I didn’t tell them anything’’ he said. ‘’That’s why they hit you?’’ she asked, cleaning his wounds. He nodded as he watched the nurse take care of him. ‘’I’m so happy you made it back, John, when I read your letter, I couldn’t believe you were… ‘’ she didn’t want to finish her sentence. ‘’Well, I’m here now, darling, and I love you, so much’’ he said, taking her face in his hands. ‘’I love you too, Bucky’’ she said, kissing him. ‘’Your ribs will heal, but slow down on the physical stuff’’ she said, seriously. ‘’I’m afraid I can’t slow down on one physical stuff in particular’’ he said, trailing his hands all over her body. She grins but tilt her head to the side. ‘’Bucky, don’t you’ll only hurt yourself more’’ she giggled. ‘’How much time do I need to lay off the physical stuff, darling?’’ he asked. ‘’4 weeks’’ she said. He shook his head. ‘’I can’t wait 4 weeks to have sex with you’’ he said. ‘’Well, you could piece your lung, and die, and I don’t want that. Maybe say 3 weeks, you heal fast’’ she said. ‘’All right, no sex for 3 weeks, but get ready, because I’m marring you in 3 weeks’’ he said. She smile and kiss him. ‘’If I stay on bed rest, can I make it 2 weeks?’’ he asks, making her laugh. ‘’We’ll see about that, Bucky’’ She was just happy he got back to her, in one piece

The last part ⬇️

[willyoubemycherryy]

ღ 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐..!!.__.𝚊_.-..𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏__𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜._𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙼𝚛 𝙴𝚐𝚊𝚗_.._𝚟𝚜.--__.𝙼𝚛𝚜.𝙴𝚐𝚊𝚗❤︎︎

-.__𝚠𝚑𝚘. .𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕_𝚠𝚒𝚗-!-?. . .

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜❥ 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚖𝚏𝚊𝚘, 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢-𝚏𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕, ⚠︎︎MDNI⚠︎︎

“𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒊𝒕, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝑌𝑂𝑈’𝑅𝐸 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒚, 𝒆𝒚, 𝒆𝒚. . .”

. . . .

Breathe.

You just needed to stay hidden until you could figure something out.

It’s hot under the thick covers where you lay, flattening yourself into the bed as much as possible. Plain sight usually works best in buying time which you desperately need right now.

Holding your breath, you listen for any sound of him as your heart pounds so hard, you worry it’ll create an echo.

John ‘Bucky’ Egan.

World’s most troublesome lover.

Now, why were you hiding?

You were hiding out in fear of catching the same sickness your beloved Bucky did.

Baby fever.

He wasn’t too terrible at first. Rubbing your stomach a little more, asking more family related questions, etc….

Then came the slightly bolder suggestions.

About how you’re already his wife so; ‘don’t you wanna be my babymama too, bunny?’, and how sweet you’d look waddling with a round bump, to laying on his affections extra sweet, getting desserts and the like for you and saying it was to make sure you were “healthy” for “no reason in particular”.

Lastly, he’s decided to resort to seduction. You feel like tearing up at the unfairness of how hard it was to deny him but it was for his own good. The last time you two had sex; after dragging every kind of orgasm out of you to the point of his lower pelvis being wet from your release, he leant down to whisper sultrily against your lips,

“I want my babies to have your eyes.”

You’re ashamed to admit you came again with him after that.

You’ve been avoiding his prodding, contact, and anything else that might make you fold ever since. You even tried talking to him civilly about it before. That babies are serious, and that yes while you both are married, you just don’t think you two are ready for them yet.

Personally, you blame Rosie and his adorable newborn that his wife had brought to the base for the boys to see.

Of course, all of this is easier said than done because John Egan is nothing if not persistent.

You thought he was dangerous before? Comical.

His touches have gone from warm to scorching, all up on you for however many minutes he can get, purring out all the ways he could knock you up and see to it that you have a damn good time while he does before you’re slipping out of his arms to go do something, anything to not give in.

His mouth is worse too, as is the way he looks at you.

Heat rushing up your neck just thinking about it.

But you needed to be strong. For the both of you.

Especially since he’d been breathing down your neck since the morning….and it was wearing you down.

Starting from waking you with his hard body on yours, peppering wet kisses all over your stomach then up to your breasts, giving them a slow massage because, “let me treat you, doll. This way it’ll be better when they start making milk”, and delaying you from getting the hell out of dodge by distracting you with neck kisses. Based on wake-up call alone, you should’ve known he was going to drag you down or die trying.

The last straw was when you were in the boutique, trying on different heels and asking John which ones he liked best on you.

His answer almost made you blackout.

“They’re all pretty doll. But it’s not like you’ll need em’ with the way I’ll have you…bred and barefoot.”

After that, you decided it best to promptly take your asses home.

As soon as you close the door, John’s crowding you against it. Trailing his hands up your sides, his aftershave fills your nose making it that much harder to stay objective. But it’s for the greater good. Heart racing as your body heats up at his proximity, you brace yourself.

“Princess, please.”

Brace yourself for anything but that.

John as a man is above many things. When it comes to you though, the list of those things is significantly shorter. That is to say that when it comes to you, he is not above begging.

Leaning down to nose at your throat, he runs his hands down to grab your ass, rolling your lower body into his.

“Let’s make a baby. A baby would be good for us. You’d be such a good mama…and I’d take the best care of my girls”, kissing you slowly as you go lax in his hold.

Realizing how good he was about to get you, you drop to the floor, ducking around his legs and booking it upstairs.

“Sorrybutwearentreadyandihavethingstodothisisforyourowngoodloveyousexybyeee!”

Leading you to where you are now; waiting on the delicious inevitable.

It wasn’t that you never wanted kids, and it wasn’t because of John either. You just felt you two weren’t ready just yet.

You’re so lost in thought that by the time you register the feeling of his rough, warm fingers wrapping around your ankles, it’s already too late.

Shrieking bloody murder as John snatches you clean from under the covers and drops you right on top of the comforter, following after you.

“There she is.”

He smiles wolfishly down at you, interlocking your fingers, pinning them above your head.

The adrenaline makes you breathless, gasping when you try to move only to feel his body between your legs, keeping you there.

This might be it. You think as you feel that familiar ache creep over you after avoiding him for almost 3 weeks.

“No, you are staying right were I got you and fully intend on having you.” Gulping, you decide to go down like a man.

“And just what do you want to have me for?” John’s low chuckle sends spikes of both arousal and anticipation through your system.

“Now now, don’t be coy. But, if you want me to spell it out for you I’d be more than happy to oblige…” Christ. “John, dearest, we aren’t ready.”

“We are. Why do you keep running from me, insisting that we’re not?” The insecurity creeping into his voice makes your heart stop cold.

“It’s just…what if you can’t be here? What if something, somewhere, more important than us, needs you?” It’s not him, and no matter what may happen, you need him to know that first and foremost.

“You’d be the best daddy but it’s just the ‘what if’s’ that I don’t wanna commit to…”

John listens thoughtfully before nodding, “Nothing is more important than you. The world can wait because it wouldn’t even exist to me without you in it. So, put a little faith in me. I’ll be here…for both of you.”

He leans down to kiss you tenderly, groaning at the way you open up so eagerly for him. Kissing back just as feverishly as your hands feel all over him, wet in record time.

Switching from sucking on his tongue, to his bottom lip, you pull away to look at him.

Bucky really was beautiful. Daydreamy, dark, onyx colored hair, storm tide blue eyes, high cheekbones, strong jawline and a wonderfully devilish mouth.

“That’s a yes right, bunny? Because I’m so ready that if you kiss me, you’ll get pregnant.” You laugh incredulously but he’s not playing.

“Wow, spoken like a true poet. Yes Bucky, It’s a yes-’’, the words don’t even make it all the way out and the rest is a blur as Bucky’s clothes seem to vanish and yours are all but ripped off your body with Bucky suckling wet kisses all over any skin exposed.

He wastes no time manhandling you onto your stomach, watching your slick drip down your thigh, cursing with furrowed brows.

“Goddamn, you’re sopping mama. Waitin’ for daddy to breed you up, yeah?”, he growls out, landing a hard smack to your ass.

Holy fucking shit. Gasping sharply at the sting his heavy palm leaves behind.

Your body is so hot at this point that it makes your eyes water while you whine and moan brokenly, whimpering out a weak “yes”.

Smoothing his hands up your naked body, John presses one on your back to deepen your arch and the other hand down to play with your twitching clit.

“Yes what doll?”

“…y-yes daddy”, voice small from embarrassment but you’re too turned on to even think about smart mouthing him. Legs shaking as he stretches you out with 3 of his thick fingers, thumbing your clit, moving closer behind you.

“That’s right…and you aren’t leaving this room until I’m sure you’ve made me one.”

♡︎ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ😌

[featherandferns]

pirates : where are they now?

jj maybank x bestfriend!fem!reader

word count: 1.5k.

read pirates | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…

The route to Pirate’s Cove was as familiar to you as the smell of grass and the taste of orange juice. It was as familiar as the feel of JJ’s hand in yours, fingers intertwined just as your lives had been since you were children. In your spare hand you carry an old blanket and in his, he carries a cooler loaded with snacks and seltzers. The birds chirp from trees and there’s the distant rustling of bushes and shrubs hinting of critters lurking. It’s likely that gators bathe in the watery swamps that you pass by but you seem to have finally outgrown your fear. Maybe that’s just JJ’s effect on you, though. He always makes you feel safe. 

The transition from friends to lovers was only slightly rocky at first as the two of you found your footing. It felt different changing from referring to one another as ‘friend’ to ‘babe’. It felt almost too easy not to turn when the other was changing though. But none of it was weird or bad, just different. The Pogues had taken your relationship easily. You assumed that most saw it coming from a mile away. That’s what your parents said when you filled them in on yours and JJ’s situation. Of course, the conversation with your parents then nicely bled into the always painful ‘safe sex’ talk. 

Now, a year in, you could hardly remember a time when JJ wasn’t your entire world. Can hardly fathom not looking to him as your rock, your shelter and your light. Can hardly comprehend him being your dorky best friend instead of your dorky boyfriend. 

“Alright, I got one,” JJ says, “that time when you convinced John B that girls shed their balls at the age of five.”

You immediately crack up, the memory flashing back to you. As you laugh, you feel JJ squeeze your hand just that slightest bit tighter. Something about it makes your smile grow. 

“Oh my God, the look of pure horror on his face,” you giggle. 

“Swear to God, that’s the most shit-scared I ever seen him,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head at the memory. 

“Don’t know why he was acting like I was about to yank his nuts off him,” you snort. 

JJ groans at the visual. “Great. Now all I can think about is John B’s balls. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. 

As the journey of reminiscing comes to a close, the two of you approach Pirate’s Cove. The ivy had grown unruly over the years, creating a type of canopy that led into the opening of the cove. Moss covered rocks and water kissed stones; wildflowers and overgrown shrubs; logs for frogs and toads to bask and layers of leaves for critters to call home. The smell of damp soil and pollinated greenery submerges you in memories. As if sharing a thought, the two of you take a pause and look it all over. It felt like a lifetime since you’d returned to the cove. Things have become busy and, quite frankly, chaotic in life lately. The jovial search for treasure revealed some rather dark corners of John B’s life. Now you were lucky to spend your days not running from one square grouper or another. But here, in Pirate’s Cove, the two of you feel safe from the worries of the world. Safe from JJ’s ever angry father. Safe from the madness that came with searching for the Royal Merchant. 

This is where you beat JJ in countless imaginary sword fight. This is where you shared your first kiss, rosy cheeked and puppy-fat faced. This is where you first introduced John B to the sacred hideaway. This is where you realised that maybe you liked JJ a little more than just a friend. The years pass you by like scenes of a show, and each rerun fills you with a melancholic joy of times been and gone. 

“Rope swing’s still here,” JJ observes, bringing your attention to it. 

You smile. “Yep. Still here.”

He finds a comfortable spot near the water, still dry on land, and dumps the cooler. You follow his lead and lay out the blanket and the two of you settle side by side. It’s second nature to rest your head against his upper chest. It’s second nature for him to slip his fingers into yours atop of the blanket. With his free hand he retrieves two cans, cracks them open, and hands one to you. 

“Well,” he hums, sounding somewhat nervous, “happy anniversary.”

“One year down, smelly,” you muse.

You clink the lip of your can against his and the two of you sip the icy cool beverage, eyes fixated on the babbling creek. As your eyes slip shut, soaking in the moment, you decide this is happiness. This is bliss. This is your sanctuary and if heaven is real, this is where you hope you’ll find yourself. Sacred ground that only yourself, JJ and John B knew of. But even still, John B knew this was your place more than his. He never went alone - never without yourself and JJ. Kiara and Pope were oblivious to the cove. A crossed heart promise is paramount to keep. 

As the day ticks on, you remain resting with your head on JJ’s warm, muscle-tee clad chest, him on his back, both of you drifting between sleep and wake. From time to time, he threads his fingers in your hair and toys. When a thought passes through one of your heads, you share it, and the other usually hums in agreement or acknowledgement. It’s light and easy and comfortable. 

“I’m fucking hot,” JJ announces. 

“Wanna go for a swim?” you wonder, glancing to the water. 

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees, already shifting.

You remove your head from his stomach and the two of you get to your feet. He strips off his shirt and you do the same. Living in Kildare meant living in swimsuits rather than underwear most of the time; it saved the hassle of changing when you inevitably ended up in water. JJ lingers as he waits for you to step out your shorts and the moment you realise, is the moment your childish mind conjures the idea. 

Sighing, you place your hands on your waist and look to the water. You’re happily aware that his attention is on your body. One year into this thing and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of having JJ look at you like that. 

“It’s probably gonna be cold,” you say. 

“Probably,” JJ agrees. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pretending to have second thoughts. You glance away from the water and check out the cove. “I’m just thinking–”

“Yeah?”

Your grin gives you away, moments before you blurt, “last one there has to clean the truck!”

You take off into a sprint towards the water, hearing JJ’s cussing behind you as he follows. His hands grab at your waist, pulling you back, fighting you away. Through your laughter, you try to squirm out of his hold. It’s no use though: he’s too strong. He picks you up as if you’re a bag of chips and tosses you over his shoulder. You screech and holler and giggle like crazy, gently slapping his back as he crashes into the water. Then you’re unwillingly dunked under the surface. 

You break back to air and shove your wet hair off your face. JJ is lounging in the water, laughing like crazy. You waste no time in lurching yourself at him, battling him down until he’s submerged. He gladly brings you along and under the water, and you feel as if you’re in another world. His hands trace up your arms, onto your shoulders, until one finds purchase on your jawline. You brave opening your eyes and can make out his face through blurry vision, a smile on his sunkissed features, blonde hair fanning out in the water. He guides your lips to his and kisses you until both of you have no choice but to return to the surface for a breath of air. When you do, JJ keeps his hands on your body, coaxing you near to him, not letting you drift apart. His forehead rests against your own. 

“I love you,” JJ quietly says. 

“I love you too,” you return. The words come as easy as air to the lungs. 

“Crossing this line was the best thing we ever did,” he tells you, pulling back far enough to meet your gaze. He tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ears. “Pretty risky move since we could’ve, you know, ruined like nine years of friendship.”

You bite back your laugh and squint jokingly. “Meh, we were never that close anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, JJ pecks your lips. Just as he pulls back, your fingers latch into the tethers of his hair at the back of his neck, keeping him near. 

“Nu-uh, smelly. Better kiss me like you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

[leosficlist]

POST S-4 Getting Together

These fics are about their relationship Post Season 4, which could include apologies and fix-its, or simply fics which acknowledged the events of S4!

Post S4 pt2, Post S4 pt3

Bridges by sussexbound 🔒6.6k words

The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

Nocturne by Atiki 6.6k words

All the most important conversations happen at night.

holding steady by darcylindbergh 12.7k words

“Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing.”

John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

notes: post-everything, no eurus mention, getting away for the weekend

Finally Home by LondonSpirit 🔒 3.5k words

“After the final problem is solved, after everything's resolved, and Sherlock and John have returned to a more or less ordinary life, there's only one ting left to do.

But can they eventually admit what everyone else already knew for a long time, or are they still too blind to see?”

Sehnsucht by unicornpoe 14.7k

Sehnsucht: longing, pining, yearning, craving, intensely missing. An individual’s search for happiness while coping with the reality of unattainable wishes.

John is here now, yes, yes he is. He and Rosie are back home in 221B with Sherlock, safe where they belong... but why is there still a hole deep inside Sherlock, wide and gaping and consuming? Does John feel it too? And what will it take to fill it?

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss 🔒10k words

It was so nice to see they'd finally got things sorted. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy. (Or: Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.)

Six Dates by AvaWtsn 7.4k

A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt "is this a date?" Hint: it is.

notes: the first 6 fridays after John moves back in

Whisper To Me by Chrysanthemumsies 20.7k words

Sherlock picks up playing the guitar. John falls more and more in love with every passing day.

notes: John struggling with his feelings, slowly creeping together

Questions and Answers by Pipmer 3.1k

It was useless. What was the point? No amount of talking was ever going to change that John wasn’t interested, and never would be. The only way he would be tempted to pull up house again would be if the practical advantages were enormous, and they just weren’t. Why else would he even consider it?

notes: Sherlock wants John & Rosie to move back in

Once Upon A Time by darcylindbergh 6.5k

It starts with a wish.

In the beginning, John comes home.

notes: fluffy soft warm

Getting On With It by StarlightandFireflies 8k words

“What is it?” Sherlock finally asked, staring into his tea. “Nothing,” John said quickly. After all, he could hardly just come out and say the truth: It’s just hit me again, all this. I’ve realized I’m here, and you’re here, and for some reason you don’t hate me, and yet I’ve got no bloody idea where to go from here.  I want to do right by you but it’s hitting me as if for the first time that I’ve no clue how to do that, even though it’s what you deserve. Rated M for chapter 2

notes: "your heart's always been in the right place" "for you John, yes"

Negative Space by Standbygo 8.8k words

John takes a drawing class, but drawing Sherlock has unexpected results.

notes: John’s in therapy, Sherlock goes to John’s art show

Home by liriodendron 2.9k words

Sherlock opens his mouth to ask how he can make the pain go away, but he realizes halfway through that he doesn't know how one asks such a thing, so the only word that escapes his lips is, "John..."

There is a sharp intake of breath at his name, and then John says in a voice like a broken radio, "Take me home, Sherlock."

notes: sex for comfort post-mary's death

Out Of The Woods by SilentAuror

Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

notes: pining Sherlock, miscommunications, then oodles of fluff, love confessions, virginlock, john plots a romantic date

[jrow]

May Prompts (29)

Day 28 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 30 here.

Hero

John Watson is nothing short of a hero.

Doctor. Writer. Veteran.

He will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life.

He is not a hero.

Junkie. Sociopath. Freak.

That John would choose him for a friend is unfathomable. That John could want more, entirely out of the realm of possibility.

It does not compute. It cannot have happened.

Currently, John is looking at him, concern etched on his features.

“Are you okay, Sherlock? You fainted.”

“No, that doesn’t seem right.”

The worry on John’s face morphs into a smile. “Who’s the doctor here?”

He furrows his brow. Perhaps he did faint. Perhaps he hit his head. Perhaps that’s why he hallucinated the conversation with John. But then he sees the gift. “You gave me a Yamaha SV250. And a case decorated with Rosie’s handprint.”

“Err … yes? I mean yes, I did.”

“That doesn’t seem right. Because that means you want to move back. With Rosie.”

The smile gets bigger. “Yes.”

“And this would entail sleeping in my bed. With me. Presumably.”

“Presumably.” And now John looks like the cat that got the canary.

“And I fainted?”

“When I tell everyone the story later, I may use the term swoon.”

His eyes snap to John’s. “You want to tell everyone?”

John’s smile softens. “Yeah, quite badly, actually. I want to move in. I want to sleep in your bed. And I want to tell everyone. Not that anyone will be all that surprised.”

None of this makes sense. “But you … you are … you’re a war hero!” he sputters.

John knits his brow. “I don’t think that’s true and I don’t see how it’d be relevant even if it was.”

“Of course it’s relevant!” he says, sitting up. “War heroes don’t raise families with sociopaths!”

John sighs fondly, reaching out and touching his arm. “It’s a good thing you aren’t a sociopath then.” A pause. “You know, I was just thinking how beautiful protagonists don’t usually end up with minor side characters.”

He scoffs. John can be such a fool sometimes. “I am the not the protagonist, John. I wasn’t even in the story until you came along.”

John chuckles and stands, before reaching out a hand to help him up. “ Well, I am certainly not the protagonist. So who does that leave?”

They both reflexively look up when they hear the sound of tiny feet hitting the ground. A couple seconds later comes the loud squeak of the upstairs door.

“Lock, play!” Rosie yells at the top of her lungs. The speed at which that girl can go from fast asleep to boundless energy is staggering.

John sighs and looks at his watch. “Right on schedule, I suppose. Busy day means short nap.”

“You go lie down, I am the one being summoned,” he says. Despite his fainting/swooning a moment ago, John is the one who needs to rest. He coughs and feels heat rising in his cheeks. “Lie down in … our bed?”

John looks at him with an expression that can only be described as adoration. “Okay, but can I make one request before you go see to the princess upstairs?”

He nods, slowly. Fairly certain, and fairly terrified, of what’s coming.

“Can I kiss you now?”

He nods again. And then, without hesitation, John kisses him. It’s slow and soft and like he’s something precious. And it is terrifying, but in the best possible way.

He’s still not 100% sure this isn’t a hallucination.

He closes his eyes and returns the kiss.

John Watson is nothing short of a hero.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[bcolfanfic]

for @magneticghouls for the @hbowardaily summer exchange <3 little rosie pov clegan post war thingy-do ☀️

“So, you know I have to ask, Buck.”

Rosie didn’t look at him when he spoke, picking at a splinter coming up from the wood on the arm of the rocker.

He supposed he didn’t have to ask either. But maybe it would help. Gale seemed like he was walking on eggshells from the moment he opened the door, slight stutter in his voice when he greeted him.

Now, Gale hummed under his breath, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before he spoke.

“How do I know you aren’t gonna turn us in?”

Rosie stopped his rocker abruptly, the chair squeaking as his back straightened.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

His eyebrows furrowed as the words left his mouth in rapid succession. And his confusion was honest. Sure he didn’t quite understand. But he wouldn’t- couldn’t do that. Not to anyone, he didn’t think.

Least of all to them.

He knew before he decided to swing by- had known since his last late night walk around Thorpe Abbotts after the war.

Since he startled hearing a noise from the patch of trees. And starled again when he did some light investigating, making out what he could surmise was the two of them doing something he knew in some sort of abstract that two men could do together.

Gale didn’t say anything for a long few minutes, tapping his foot against the paneling of the porch, rubbing his hand on his knee.

“Had a close call, a few months ago.” He said quietly- eventually, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Reconnected with a friend I knew growing up. Was nice, until he dropped by once in the morning unexpectedly, and it- it was obvious. We’d just woken up,” He continued. “John- thought it was someone else, answered the door not thinkin’, not wearing a shirt.”

He chuckled under his breath then, but not in a way that made Rosie feel like he should laugh too. His voice trembled, and saw Gale’s throat bob as he swallowed and took a breath before he kept going.

“He panicked- just, just, bolted . I’m standing there in the hallway, trying to think of something to say and this guy flips. Knocked a glass off the table, making all this racket. He said he was going to turn us in and I- I asked if there was anything, anything I could do that would change his mind.”

His grip tightened on the arm of his rocker, and Rosie felt the tension mirroring in his own hand against the wood.

“‘s why we haven’t fixed the downstairs bathroom yet. Had money put away for it, till then.” He continued, looking off.

“John still gets real freaked out about it, tells me I should reach back out to him-, offer him more money. But my theory is that it’s better I don’t go reminding him what happened.”

Gale looked at Rosie then, and he realized he was round about being asked for his opinion on the matter.

“I think,” He started, pausing for a moment, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “I agree with you. Best not to poke the bear, I’d say.”

Gale looked satisfied with that at least, letting out a small sigh- and Rosie’s chest hurt.

There was a lot he didn’t understand, questions he knew weren’t his business to ask for answers to.

But he felt as though he understood whatever this was better than he could wrap his head around how someone could ruin someone’s life over something so mundane.

“You had a question didn’t you?”

Gale pulled him out of his head, Rosie opening and closing his mouth twice before he found his voice.

“Think you answered it.” He said. “But another one then. You two are happy- as much as you can be?”

Gale opened his mouth to answer, but they were interrupted by a truck pulling up the driveway.

Tensing for a moment, he squinted- and his shoulders relaxed when he realized it was indeed Bucky. His cheeks lifted when he smiled, eyes softer than they had been during the previous conversation.

John climbed out when the vehicle pulled to a stop, leaving what he’d gone to the store for in the car in the interest of getting to Gale first. He didn’t seem to see Rosie until he was just about right in front of him, pausing on the last step up the porch, glancing between the two of them.

Rosie figured a smile and nod would answer the question he saw in his eyes. But Bucky just looked between the two men a second time, arms crossed, scratching his thumbnail against his shoulder.

He could see it in his face then, what Gale had said about how he hadn’t shaken off the incident. There was a cloud of wariness in his eyes, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.

Gale beckoned him to come closer and he did, skittish still when he approached him. He reached forward to uncross his arms, gently grabbing his wrist and rubbing the underside of it with his thumb.

He looked at John in a way that seemed the communicate what he was going for when his features relaxed. Giving him a little nod, John let Gale move the hand on his wrist up his arm, allowing him to tug him a little closer.

Continuing to watch them made Rosie feel like ought to look away- like he was intruding on something just as much as he had that night on base.

But he found it hard, glancing at the field in front of them for only a moment before his eyes fell back to where Bucky had leaned down into Gale’s space, face pressed against the side of his head. Gale was whispering something just quiet enough that Rosie couldn’t make it out, but John laughed softly against his blonde hair, bringing a hand up to ruffle it as he pulled back.

He backtracked to get the shopping from the truck after a minute, and Gale’s eyes didn’t leave him.

When he seemed to notice he was being watched, his cheeks flushed, and Gale scratched the back of his neck with a shy smile at his lap.

Rosie supposed that answered his question.

[velvet4510]

I guess I’m one of those weirdos who so deeply feels the essence of an instrumental leitmotif from a film score associated with a particular character or couple, that I start associating said leitmotifs in my head with ANOTHER character from an entirely different film/book/series. And I’ve built up a whole library of leitmotifs for LOTR characters even though I ADORE Howard Shore’s original score for the trilogy. I consider these leitmotifs to be add-ons, NOT replacements.

Nor do I intend to completely disassociate all of these themes from their intended films/characters; some of them are perfect fits for the films they were written for. It’s just my mind going wild like usual. (But I admit, in some cases, the pieces are from films I dislike, and thus I would rather see these great songs associated with something of LOTR quality rather than what they were actually stuck with, especially when the lack of lyrics gives you the freedom to let the melody take you wherever it takes you, personally.)

In the case of Silmarillion characters and relationships, well, it’s a different story - it really is my attempt to cobble together what could be a hypothetical score, if it were brought to the screen. Obviously it’d never be this exactly, but I would hope a composer for a potential screen adaptation of The Silmarillion might be inspired by themes like these.

In some cases, the characters these themes were originally written for don’t resemble the corresponding LOTR characters very much, or at all. Also some of them have titles that by themselves could not be more different from and unfitting for Tolkien’s world. It’s just the melodies on their own, without context or even name, performed by these gorgeous orchestras, that have come to remind me of particular Tolkien figure(s).

I also have found lots of “love themes”, both romantic and platonic, for character relationships, as you’ll see. I’ve included romantic themes for canonical couples, as well as for pairings that I personally ship. I know Shore already gave Aragorn and Arwen a theme, but as I said, these are all extra additions and not replacements.

And yes I have a lot of Star Wars stuff in here, because I love Star Wars…but I love Tolkien more.

For the heck of it I’ll share some of these, with links to each song on YT. It’s hard to explain why I made these choices/associations, but maybe you’ll get it if you listen to some of them.

CHARACTER THEMES

The Valar = “Guardians of the Whills Suite” by Michael Giacchino

Lúthien Tinúviel = “Once Upon a Time in the West” by Ennio Morricone

Túrin Turambar = “Anakin’s Theme” by John Williams

Nienor Níniel = “Helena’s Theme” by John Williams

Frodo Baggins = “Romeo” by Nino Rota

Sam Gamgee = “Rey’s Theme” by John Williams

Aragorn = “The John Dunbar Theme” by John Barry

Gandalf = “Yoda’s Theme” by John Williams

Legolas = “Rose Tico” by John Williams

Éowyn = “Marion’s Theme” by John Williams

THEMES FOR LANDS/LOCATIONS

The Undying Lands = “Out of Africa” by John Barry

ROMANTIC LOVE THEMES

Frodo x Sam = “Love Theme from Ben-Hur” by Miklos Rozsa

Beren x Lúthien = “Love Theme from The Godfather” by Nino Rota

Faramir x Éowyn = “Han Solo and the Princess” by John Williams

Aragorn x Arwen = “Love Theme from Cinema Paradiso” by Ennio Morricone

Sam x Rosie = “Love Theme from Dances with Wolves” by John Barry

Bilbo x Thorin = “Andante Cantabile” by Bernard Herrmann

Thingol x Melian = “Indecent Proposal” by John Barry

Fingon x Maedhros = “Wuthering Heights” by Alfred Newman

Galadriel x Celeborn = “Central Park” by James Newton Howard

Finrod x Bëor = “Somewhere in Time” by John Barry

Aegnor x Andreth = “Love Theme from The Scarlet Letter” by John Barry

Finduilas x Gwindor = “Deborah’s Theme” by Ennio Morricone

Túrin x Beleg = “Midnight Cowboy” by John Barry

Mablung x Nienor = “Wanda and Vision” by Christophe Beck

Tuor x Idril = “Conversation Piece” by Bernard Herrmann

Eärendil x Elwing = “Tennessee” by Hans Zimmer

Elrond x Celebrían = “And Then I Kissed Him” by Hans Zimmer

Pippin x Diamond = “Love Theme from East of Eden” by Leonard Rosenman

Merry x Estella = “Love Theme from Rebel Without a Cause” by Leonard Rosenman

Elanor x Fastred = “Theme from A Summer Place” by Max Steiner (arranged by Percy Faith)

PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP THEMES

Elrond & Elros = “Brothers” by Hans Zimmer

Merry & Pippin = “Flying” by John Williams

Legolas & Gimli = “Rain Man” by Hans Zimmer

Boromir & Faramir = “Luke and Leia” by John Williams

Bilbo & Frodo* = “The Mother’s Love” by Miklos Rozsa

Sam & Elanor = “The Ludlows” by James Horner

I may add to this as I think of more, or even replace certain songs entirely if I come across a better match. Always return to the pinned post here to see the most recently updated list.

* Bilbo & Frodo’s melody is heard in the first minute of the linked track, 0:00–1:01, and again at 1:48. Also, the love theme I associate with Frodo & Sam starts playing at 1:03, making this whole thing fit all the hobbits even better.

[blixabargelds]

Please number 12 Please!

thank youuuu i’m going to do this for superstar (punk au) because i want to and without the reams of context it may seem ooc to stick gale on tons of drugs but trust me on this one. also it’s my sandpit. this is kind of an outtake from his 25th birthday~~

¹²⁾ “can we- can we just stay here, like this, for a minute? please?”

“Buck, baby, come out.”

Gale looks at John’s feet. Battered Docs, one fraying yellow lace, one black. The ragged cuffs of his dark jeans. They pace the room up and down- the motion like a pendulum. Like a metronome. Gale breathes and listens to his racing heart. Music thuds through the closed door.

“I like it here,” Gale says.

“Huh?”

“I said I like it down here,” Gale repeats, louder.

John’s feet slow to a stop in front of the bed. Gale hears him sigh, before his knees come into view, then his hands, then his kind, smiling face as he gets on all fours.

“You’re missin’ your party, baby.”

Gale knows this. His fingertips have gone numb. His lips are tingling, his heart going thump-thump-thump. He can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. John’s smile falters, and he flattens himself out, lying parallel just outside the bed, Gale still tucked underneath it. John’s fingers reach out to brush his arm.

“What’d you take, Buck?”

Gale squeezes his eyes shut. His ribs feel too tight. “Just coke.”

“Yeah?”

Gale bites his lip. He nods his head. Then shakes it against the floor, the rough weave of their bedroom rug scratching against his face. The tingling in his lips has spread to his nose, making it itch. He can’t quite feel his ears. He wonders, then, if he can ever feel his ears.

“Hey, Buck,” John says. His voice is more urgent, and when Gale opens his eyes to look at him his brows are drawn close. “Just coke, yeah?”

Gale’s teeth don’t fit. “I don’t know,” he breathes. “I think so. I don’t know. I don’t know. Bucky, I can’t feel my ears.”

“Neither me, doll,” John says. He edges closer, half his body under the bed with him. “Who gave it to you?”

Gale tries to remember. He found it, he thinks. In someone’s hung up coat pocket. The tingling is in his arms now, weighing them down and tickling. Gale thinks of the awful reverb Rosie can make his guitar sing. He thinks of white noise.

“Are there bugs on me?”

“No, sweetheart,” John says. He brushes a strand of hair back from Gale’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear. Gale would’ve done it, but his hands won’t move. “There’s no bugs on you.”

“Hm,” Gale says. The music changes to something faster. Something smashes in their kitchen, making him flinch. “John, I don’t want them.”

John’s looking at him like he isn’t making sense. Gale doesn’t know why he can’t see them. “Who, Buck?”

“The bugs,” Gale whispers.

John frowns. Hesitates for a second. “Tell you what, baby. You come out and drink some water, and I’ll make sure they’re all gone, how’s that?”

Gale considers this. He nods again, unsure if he can move himself, but John does it for him either way. His face lights up as he backs out from the shelter of the bed, extending his hands for Gale to take and hauling him upward. He sits him on the edge of the mattress, handing him a glass of water. Gale takes it shakily. Tries a few sips. It tastes like gasoline, and whatever liquor John dumped out to repurpose the glass. He grimaces, keeps drinking it slowly. John moves to sit behind him, knees bracketing Gale’s hips as he starts to pick through his hair. Gale smiles something small and fragile.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Checking for bugs,” John says at the shell of Gale’s ear. His breath tickles Gale’s neck, making him laugh.

“Actin’ like I got fleas.”

“Woof,” John says, pressing a kiss to the pulse at the side of Gale’s throat. He realises, then, that it’s slowed a little. “You’re all clear, doll. Bug free. Promise.”

Gale nods. He leans into John’s chest, tipping his head back against his shoulder. His breath comes easier. In, then out, mechanical but working. The tingling’s faded.

“Can we just stay here?” he sighs. “Like this, for a minute? Please.”

“Sure thing, birthday boy,” John whispers into his hair. “You want your present now?”

Gale blinks. Presses his fingertips up against his chest and checks in with the speed of his heart. “You got more?”

“What? Jesus, Buck, no. Slow down. I was gonna suck you off.”

“Oh,” Gale says. He’s fairly sure he has his own coke left, anyway. Or whoever’s he found. John’s hand travels up under his shirt, then down to the front of his jeans, palming him lazily and making him hum. “Sure. Go on then.”

[bejeweledblondie]

Peggy, The Pin Up

-

A/N: I apologize for being MIA I’ve had a lot of very great but time consuming things take over my life! I’ve started a 1940s vintage clothing blog & I’m shocked at how successful it has become. On top of that I’ve got promotions at work & it’s opened so many doors for me. I’m hoping to write a bit more!

Warnings: classic 1940’s sexism, mentions of nudity, female pronouns

Summary: Y/N never expected for her pin up prints to be put out… it causes some disruption on Abbott-Thorpe & one dark curly haired aviator comes to her rescue

It all happened on a Thursday morning at breakfast. Y/N sat there in her crisp white uniform shoveling the chalky yellow substance the army called eggs in her mouth. A dark shadow appeared above her plate & a magazine was plopped down in front of her.

“Don’t even try to deny it, this is you isn’t it?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Speechless she looked away & noticed that the Army’s shipment of Esquire hit the shelves. “God who knew? We knew you were a tease, but this is just another level.” He started. “Do you know what everyone says about you?” She shook her head shamefully, lying to herself. She had heard rumblings in the sick bay from time to time. Sometimes while fixing a patients IV bag or a even helping move a patient a hemline might rise causing a stir.

Before the pilot could continue his chauvinistic teasing session she immediately grabbed her belongings & swiftly exited. Little did she know a dark curly haired pilot was watching the torment happen. Due to rank he couldn’t intervene but oh he so badly wanted to bury the man six feet under. He had grown fond of the nurse, she was always so kind with his men. Incredibly soft spoken & nurturing when it came to the care she provided. He had walked in on her reading a copy of John Steinbeck’s, “Of Mice & Men” to the wounded pilots one evening. She didn’t have to do that, she could’ve been out dancing at the Officer’s Club. But she voluntarily chose to stay after her shift to read to them. He could tell the men greatly appreciated it too, it gave them a small window of comfort during an incredibly traumatic moment in their lives.

Douglass, also watching the debacle rolled his eyes & sipped his coffee.

“These men act like they’ve never seen tits before it’s insane.” He scoffed. Rosie almost choked on the toast he was eating.

“I mean some are freshly turned eighteen.” Blakely reminded him.

“Still, this is going to cause a huge fucking problem.” He swore. “Rosenthal, you okay?” Rosie had been staring off into the space during the duration of the conversation.

“Go to her,” Douglass sighed. “She may be oblivious but I’m not. You’ll also want to scoop her before someone like Egan does.” With that Rosie excused himself & started to head towards the medical ward. The sterile white environment contrasted heavily from the drab olive green darkness of the mess hall. Injured pilots laid in beds reading the paper, being fed their morning breakfast, or having their vitals taken. Valerie, a nurse he knew was friendly with Y/N was checking the vitals on a young sergeant.

“Val!” He said getting her attention & started over to her. “Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah, she seemed a bit off,” She started. “She begged Major to allow her to just work in supply today. You might wanna try there.”

“Thank you.” Rosie replied & made his way to the supply room. There she stood sniffling & rolling gauze. Her eyes were clouded with a melancholy look as she completed the mundane task. He knocked on the door frame causing her to look up slightly startled.

“Oh Major Rosenthal it’s you,” She said with a slight tremble in her voice. “What can I do for you?” He cringed at her using his rank, usually it would make his blood pressure rise & heart race. But this circumstance was entirely different.

“I saw what happened in the chow hall,” He started. She’s started to wipe away tears. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He said wringing anxiously. She sighed deeply & looked away.

“I’ll be alright,” She stated. “I’m just going to lay low for a few weeks.” It broke his heart to see her this way. She was always a little jumpy & anxious to begin with. This situation just poured gasoline on a oil fire.

“No,” Rosie stated. “You shouldn’t let some asshole make you feel uncomfortable.” She stared him with big wide eyes. “If it makes you feel any better I’ll escort you places.” Her eyes softened as she listened to him. A small crimson warmth crept onto her cheeks at the mere mention of him escorting her.

After a few weeks, the heat died out about the pin up nurse. Rosie & Y/N had become closer over the weeks. His protection meant no one would even try to touch a hair on her head. From lingering touches, longing gazes, & of course Rosie sitting on her nightly readings to the wounded pilots. He (like every man on post who took a liking to her) did keep a copy of the pin up photo.

On missions he’d keep the folded piece of paper tucked into the pocket of his sheepskin. A reminder of what he was protecting & fighting for. His calloused thumb would graze over her innocent smile as he admired the image. Even in his bunk, he’d spend some alone time with it after everyone had fallen asleep. During one night after the pin up photo was brought up by a rookie pilot, & in turn making Y/N uncomfortable. Rosie knew he had to make her see what he saw in the photo. After some discussions with Ken Lemmons, he decided to really make sure he was reminded everyday was he was fighting for.

With hands covering her eyes he directed her to the airstrip.

“Rosie I can’t see!” Y/N giggled, tripping over her own feet. He chuckled at her natural clumsiness. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, you’re so impatient.” He said. He lead her right up the nose to his beloved bomber. “Okay now you can see.” With the removal of his hands & a adjustment to the sunlight she was staring at herself painted on the side of his bomber. The same pin up that graced Esquire months ago that brought them together. She gasped in pure shock at the artwork.

“Oh, Rosie.” She gasped unable to speak. “Did you paint this?”

“With a little help from Lemmons.” He replied. “I want you to see what I see. A beautiful woman. Do you like it?”

“I-wow,” She smiled. “I love it.” She turned around to face him. He was staring down her, admiring the way the sun light reflected off her hair. He brushed stray strands of hair behind her ear. His hand lightly danced across her cheek bone as he stared adoringly into her eyes. He leaned down & placed a tender kiss onto her lips. She reciprocated & kissed back. Her arms wrapped around his neck & his slowly gravitated to her waist pulling her in closer. After pulling a part they rested foreheads against one another.

“God you have no idea how long I’ve always wanted to do that,” He admitted.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (15) Nightmare

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 15)

Summary: Rosie tells us about her family's sanctuary that is 221B, but also about wars over board games. In the end, it's the story about someone else who also needs a safe haven.

Fifteen Years Old

I felt oddly protective of our home from an early age, and I didn’t want it invaded by my friends. Not that I was ashamed of all the bric-a-brac, Papa’s experiments, or how different it was to other homes I’d visited. It was just...our space, a safe haven where we all could lower our guards, Papa in particular. Over the years, his fame had increased exceedingly, and his derisive façade kept journalists and fans at bay. The moment he entered 221B, he discarded said façade by hanging his coat on the peg.

Another thing to consider, were the battles that always ensued whenever one of us challenged the others to a board game. Having an outsider witnessing that…well, we’d surely be sectioned for life if that were to occur. 

(More likely, the person would be granted vicious dreams for eternity.)

But as Papa points out; there’s always something. In this context, someone.  My friend Liwia. Her parents were Polish, and moved to England two years before Liwia was born. They were Catholics, and having to adjust to a society that was more liberal toward queer people than Poland, took its time. When Liwia came out to them as a lesbian the year prior, they’d tried to pin it on her friendship with me. I was after all related to quite a few of the sort and Liwia’s parents seemed to believe the ludicrous lie that queerness was contagious.

It took them some months to get over it, but once they realised that Liwia still was her normal self, they discarded the original idea of sending her to Poland to live with her strictly religious grandparents. Neither of the Barczykowskis was prepared when said grandparents announced that they were visiting London that summer, staying for at least a fortnight. 

***

Dad and I were in the middle of a Scrabble war, when Papa came home. Not that we realised it at the time. We were too engrossed in arguing.

“It’s bloody unfair to use all the medical terms and diseases you can come up with to win, you know!” I exclaimed accusatory.

“Oh, come now, Rosebud,” Dad teased, looking as pleased as the cat that ate the canary.

“Don’t you dare Rosebud me,” I said through clenched teeth. 

Dad only used that pet name when we were at war over the board games, and it rubbed me up the wrong way.

“Children,” Papa chastised, barely able to suppress his glee.

“You’re home,” we said in unison.

I waited for the inevitable eyeroll and his obviously, but none came.

“We have a guest,” Papa said and waved a hand, and that’s when I saw Liwia standing by the sofa wringing her hands, a look of despair in her eyes.

I leapt to my feet and walked over to hug her tight.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered into her hair.

She explained about her grandparents, and with just one look over at Papa, receiving a nod, I turned back to assure my friend that she could stay at Baker Street for as long as she needed, if her biased grandparents started to make her life a living nightmare.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson,” Liwia said politely.

I could literally see the relief wash over her, the tension in her shoulders dissipating and a tiny smile forming on her lips.

“Please, call us John and Sherlock,” Dad said. 

Then he turned his attention to me with a devilish grin.

“Does this mean you declare defeat, Rosebud?”

“You wish!” I snarled and left Liwia’s side to go into battle with my father.

(Before you go all bananas on me - this will continue tomorrow...)

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[cetaitlaverite]

Call It What You Want

or: The Three Times They Lied to Each Other and the One Time They Told the Truth

Masters of the Air - John Brady x OC

informal part 2 to this short fic but can be read as a standalone. also features characters from my multi-chapter rosie x oc fic 'why all this music?' but, again, this can be read on its own. by popular demand, here is 6k words of millie and brady's clownery. you asked and i delivered (i hope). they're iconic your honour and sooo much fun to write. hope you loooooove <3

It took Millie several moments to calm her raging blush when she first caught sight of John Brady waiting for her outside the tower. It was impossible to look at him and not remember the way they’d kissed last night. She wanted to blame it on the darkness they’d been blanketed in when he’d first done it, wanted to blame it on the alcohol she’d consumed. But in the light of day as she watched him wander in idle circles in the grass, his hands in his pockets and his eyes squinted into the sunshine, she knew she’d be lying to herself to blame everything which had transpired between them on anything other than passion. Fiery hatred or fiery desire, it didn’t matter; both of them were impossible to ignore.

When her cheeks cooled down and she’d assumed some semblance of composure, Millie resumed her walk to work. Really, she lectured herself, he might not even be waiting for her. She wasn’t the only wireless operator who worked in the tower, let alone the only person who worked in there - he could have been waiting for anyone, one of his superiors included. But when she got close to the door he turned, as though sensing her, and straightened his posture. The way he was looking at her told her she’d been right; he was there for her.

“Harlow,” he greeted coolly.

“Brady,” she replied. “You’re not even flying today and yet you’re still here to lecture me on my skills as a wireless op. That’s true dedication, Brady, really, but I can assure you you’re the only pilot on this base who takes any issue with the way I do my job.”

Brady’s lips turned down in a sour approximation of a smile but he didn’t retort, as she might have expected. Instead, he said quietly, “About last night -”

Hearing him acknowledge it while the sun was high in the sky, while she was looking directly into his eyes and watching his lips move, while no single part of him was concealed by darkness and no single part of her was, either, was too much. Millie felt her stomach flip and her hands start to sweat. She hurried to cut across him, “Nothing happened last night.”

Brady raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh? So I must’ve dreamed that we kissed.”

“I’m sure it’s a dream you have often,” Millie replied. “Not to worry, you wouldn’t be the only one.”

He rolled his eyes. “We kissed, Harlow, and you know it.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. But, regardless, when he opened his mouth to reply she took him by the elbow and towed him behind her around the back of the tower, away from prying eyes and ears who may have been curious to know what the two of them were arguing about this time.

“So -” Brady began when they were alone.

Again, Millie cut him off. “We didn’t kiss.”

Brady scoffed. “We did. Twice, in fact.”

“Why would I ever kiss you?” Millie demanded, squeezing her hands into fists and tucking them behind her back. “I don’t even like you.”

Brady was smirking even as he rolled his eyes at her. “You don’t need to be so defensive about it. I was just coming here to say it’s never gonna happen again. So, you know, don’t get your hopes up or anything.”

He was so self-righteous, convincing himself he was letting her down gently. He’d come here thinking he was rejecting her?

“Don’t get my hopes up?” Millie echoed with a scoff. “How typical of you, to convince yourself that you’ve got the upper hand. What, did you fancy that I’ve been twirling my hair and kicking my feet, waiting for you to come ask me to marry you?”

Brady shrugged. “Something like that.”

“You’re a real arsehole.”

“But am I wrong?”

“Yes!” Millie cried. “If you remember correctly, you kissed me!”

“You kissed me after!” Brady exclaimed right back at her.

“A major lapse in judgement!” she defended herself.

“On my part as well,” Brady hissed.

Millie scoffed. “You grabbed my arm and took me away from the club -”

“To talk -”

“We could’ve done that outside the club! We didn’t need to be in some alley to argue, we do it everyday!”

“Maybe I didn’t want everyone overhearing!”

“Everyone’s overheard us a million times before,” Millie pointed out. Now her eyebrows were raised with palpable suspicion. “Why did you only decide it mattered last night? Hm? And only after you interrupted my dance with Benny?”

Brady stared her down. He had no answer for her. Millie could tell by the twisting of his lips and the way his fingers were twitching in his pockets, straining against the fabric of his trousers like he was pressing down on the keys of his saxophone, that he was fighting for a viable explanation.

Her eyes were dancing. Her smile was smug. “Because you wanted to kiss me,” she deduced. “Admit it. There’s no shame in it, Brady, you’d hardly be the first man who’s wanted to.”

“You’re so goddamn arrogant,” he snarled. “You’re the last woman on this base I’d want to kiss, Harlow. The very last.”

“Yes, because the ladies are just lining up for you, Brady, you miserable -”

“I don’t see anyone else tripping over themselves to fall at your feet,” Brady cut her off.

Millie raised her eyebrows. “Yes, you do.”

“So why don’t you go for them? Why do you spend all your time in the club staring at me?” Now Brady was smug, removing his hands from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest.

Millie scowled. “I do not stare at you.”

“You do.”

“Only if I feel you glaring at me.”

“I only glare at you when I feel you staring.”

“Chicken and egg,” Millie replied. “It’s beside the point. The point is, you took me to that alley last night because you wanted to kiss me.” Her eyes were penetrating, fiery, as they bore into his. “Admit it,” she said slowly, savouring the taste of the words.

“No,” Brady said lowly. “I didn’t want to kiss you, Harlow. In your dreams.”

“You didn’t want to,” Millie repeated, “and yet you did. You did kiss me. And you wanted to. Admit it.”

“No.”

“Admit it.”

“No.”

Millie took a step closer to him, craning her neck back to maintain the hold she had on his eyes. Her smirk was small and yet it was there, playing at the corners of her lips. Her gaze, she knew, was sultry. She’d perfected it a while ago.

Close enough that they could hold a sheet of paper aloft between them, Millie lowered her voice to only barely above a whisper. She gazed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Admit it, John.”

She could only admit to herself that she’d wanted him to kiss her when he did, when he had her pressed up against the wall of the tower, one hand cupping her cheek and the other on her hip, tugging it towards him. Just like last night, his lips were fast and feverish, desperate against her own, like he was worried this would be the last time he’d ever get to touch her like this.

She couldn’t find it within herself to resent herself for kissing back. Just like last night, it was addictive. She’d never been kissed like this, never kissed anyone like this either. Kissing was something entirely other when it was done with John Brady.

His hands kept to modest areas but the heat they trailed may as well have been against her bare skin. As his hand slid up from her hip, past her waist and over her shoulder, up to the back of her neck beneath her hair, as his other hand slid down from her cheek and drew across to the centre of her back, encouraging her to arch up off the wall into him, the hold he had on her felt more intimate than anything she’d ever done with any other man.

It was just kissing.

Why did it feel like so much more?

When they drew apart briefly, so briefly, for breath, it was just enough time for Millie to gasp, “So you did want to kiss me!”

It was also just enough time for Brady to reply, “Shut up,” right before he caught her lips in another searing kiss, slower than the last and somehow more intense because of it.

Millie wanted to take advantage of their closeness and put her hands all over him the way he was doing to her, but she could not for the life of her seem to get her hands out of his hair. It was exactly as soft as she’d imagined - maybe even softer - and the way he groaned lowly into her mouth when she tugged on it just a little bit too hard was more intoxicating than any alcohol she’d ever consumed.

She knew she was making a mess of him. Knew that he’d have to go all the way back to his hut to redo his hair in the bathroom, return the strands to their rightful positions meticulously like he did every morning - as she imagined, at least. And it brought her joy to imagine him having to hurry back there to do it, lest he get caught and anyone ask why he looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge. He’d have an excellent time trying to explain this, she was sure; the way his tongue was licking hotly into her mouth, the way his hands were dragging reverently over her curves, the way he was pressing his body into hers - all of it would be a tough thing to explain to anyone without blushing.

The foggy haze smothering Millie’s critical thinking cleared only when she heard Freddie’s voice, presumably talking to Jem as the two of them walked to the tower. They’d been taking forever to get ready this morning so Millie had left ahead of them; they would know that something was off if Millie was later than them into work.

Carefully, this time, and with significantly less force, Millie placed her hands on John’s chest and pushed him back. When he started to speak she covered his mouth, narrowing her eyes to make him remain silent, and the two of them listened to Freddie and Jem talking about breakfast before they disappeared into the tower, their voices fading away.

Millie kept her hand over John’s mouth for a few more beats, just to be safe, before finally letting it fall away and sighing. Leaning back against the tower once more, her breaths came heavy, her chest heaving. Still, she found resolve enough within herself to murmur, “Tell no one,” and with that pushed herself upright, skirting around the side of the building and heading into work. She would tell Freddie and Jem she’d been in the bathroom, she decided. There was no reason for them to suspect a thing.

*

If anyone asked Millie why she was taking so long getting ready tonight, she’d have no real excuse. They all went to the officers’ club often and, yes, they put effort into their appearances, setting their hair nicely and straightening their uniforms and freshening up their makeup after the workday, but no one went to this length. Millie had taken a shower and brushed her teeth and redone her hair and makeup entirely, had put on a fresh pair of tights and the pair of fancy earrings her parents had gotten her for Christmas which she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to wear. She repainted her nails and put on hand cream, plucked her eyebrows and shaved her upper lip.

If anyone asked, she would have to lie.

“Someone you’re trying to impress, Mils?” Jem asked when Millie finally emerged from the bathroom. It was only she and Freddie left in the bedroom of their hut, sitting on their respective beds with their shoes on and their eyes bored, as though they’d been ready and waiting for a while.

“Got all sweaty today,” Millie explained, trying to be casual about it. “Tried to keep my face away from the shower water but when I washed my hair it ruined my makeup so I had to start again.”

“Are you wearing new earrings?” Freddie inquired curiously.

Millie felt herself blushing. She prayed she’d put on enough makeup to hide it. “Got them for Christmas,” she confirmed. “Mum wrote me in her last letter asking if I’d worn them yet and I lied and said yes, so I thought I should probably put them on.”

Freddie smiled, accepting this readily, innocent little flower as she was. “They’re pretty,” she offered. “They make your eyes strikingly green.”

Millie smiled back at her. “Thanks, Fred. And you’re gorgeous as always. You too, Jem.”

“A compliment from Millie Harlow?” Jem gasped in mock shock. “What’s the matter, Mils, you got an upset tummy? Are we all set to be smelling the contents of your stomach when we go to bed tonight?”

Freddie scoffed. “Jem, that is vile.”

Millie just rolled her eyes. “D’you want that drink I owe you tonight, Jem, or do you want me to conveniently forget that it’s my round?”

Jem clamped her mouth shut immediately. “I want that drink,” she said as she rose from her bed.

Millie smiled smugly. “Yes,” she said, “that’s what I thought.”

Millie didn’t speak during the walk to the officers’ club. Her mind was filled with thoughts of one man, of his stupid smirk and his stupid soft hair and his stupid saxophone, which he was no doubt set to spend half the night married to. She tried to imagine what he might say to her, how he might look at her, whether he might try to get her alone. Did she even want him to get her alone? Did she even want to talk to him?

All too suddenly, Jem was pushing into the club and holding the door for Freddie and Millie behind her, then leading them to the bar.

“I’ll have a pint, thanks, Mils,” Jem declared, draping herself over the only available space at the bar with a twinkle in her eye.

Millie rolled her eyes. “I know what you’ll have, you little ponce, because you have the same thing every night.”

“Lemonade, please, Mils,” Freddie added.

Millie scoffed. “No, Fred. Wine or nothing.”

“What is your problem with me and my lemonade?!” Freddie complained, pouting.

Millie simply laughed, leaning past Jem when Atley the barman approached to take their order.

They’d gotten to the club too late tonight to secure themselves a table, so, once they all had their drinks, the three of them found an empty patch of wall to lean against and surveyed the room and its occupants.

Millie kept her eyes carefully diverted from the band just in case Brady was looking at her. She didn’t want to seem eager.

“Your makeup looks nice tonight, Mils,” Freddie spoke into the brief quiet which had fallen. “Did you get a new lipstick?”

“Borrowed Jem’s,” Millie replied easily, taking a sip from her beer.

Beside her, Jem sputtered. “Disgusting.”

“We’re all friends here,” Millie dismissed her.

“It suits you,” Freddie said. “A paler shade of red, no?”

Millie smiled at her sidelong. “I think so. Thanks, Fred.”

Freddie hummed her acceptance of this thanks.

Millie couldn’t take it any longer. Her eyes sought Brady of their own accord, as though they were being pulled there by magnets, and she met his gaze instantly. She had no idea how long he’d been watching her but she liked to think it was a while.

As such, she refused to be the one to break eye contact. She raised her eyebrows at him, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips, before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a slow sip.

Even from all the way over here she could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

Her smile was sweet when she lowered her glass.

Brady looked away, turning back to his sheet music.

If Millie didn’t know better, she would have thought she could spy a pale blush in his cheeks.

Millie kept an eye on Brady the entire time the band was playing, trying to force herself to find his saxophone playing unattractive and failing miserably. She only half-listened to the conversation going on around her, mumbling yeses and nos when asked any questions, smiling and laughing when she thought it was appropriate. When some of the other airmen joined them briefly she greeted them warmly but couldn’t help the glances she shot over their shoulders at their fellow pilot where he was playing with the band.

No one noticed, she thought. That was, until she caught Benny DeMarco smirking.

“Something catch your eye, Mils?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet enough that no one else acknowledged their private conversation.

Millie was starkly conscious of the burning in her cheeks. “What?”

Benny shrugged but there was an amused smile playing at his lips. “You just seem awfully interested in the band tonight. ‘S all.”

“I’m not,” Millie replied hastily. “I just - Brady, he - he’s -”

“Staring?” Benny finished for her.

“Yes.” She tipped her chin up defiantly.

“That makes two of you,” Benny observed.

Millie took a long sip of her beer to buy herself time - so long, in fact, that she ended up finishing it. When her glass was empty and she had nothing else to distract herself with, she finally replied, “If you’re trying to imply something, Benny, why don’t you just come right out and say it?”

Infuriatingly, Benny laughed. “Something you want me to say, Mils?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Yeah,” Benny said easily. “Funny. Neither was he.”

To anyone else, the timing would have been coincidental. Well, to anyone except Benny. But, secretly, Millie knew exactly what she was doing when she declared she was getting another drink about halfway through the last of the band’s songs.

She was still waiting to order when she felt someone come up on her other side at the bar. “Harlow,” he said.

“Brady,” she replied without turning to look at him.

He laughed. “You spend the whole night staring at me from across the room but won’t even look at me when I’m right beside you?”

“How would you know what I’ve been doing all night,” Millie replied, “unless you’ve been staring back?”

He scoffed but left that line of debate alone.

“Not dancing with any of your thousands of suitors?” he ventured instead.

Millie smiled to herself, tracking Atley as he moved around the bar, preparing drinks for other patrons. “Jealous, are we?”

Brady scoffed lowly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Still smiling, Millie shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter much to me.”

“I think it would.”

“Think what you like, Brady.”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked suddenly.

Millie’s eyes shot to his. She blinked at him. “You mean, with you?”

“No,” Brady drawled, “with Meatball.” He rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, with me.”

Millie fought to keep her voice level. “Why would I want to dance with you?”

Brady didn’t take the bait. “I don’t know, Harlow,” he replied simply, staring at her hard, his gaze smouldering, “why would you want to dance with me?”

Swallowing hard, Millie searched his face for a sign he was making fun of her but she came up empty. For once, he looked entirely in earnest. And the longer she took to answer, the more he started to fidget. He was uncertain, she realised. Nervous, maybe.

He thought she was going to say no.

“One dance,” Millie decided, putting both of them out of their misery. “And if you step on my toes you’re dead.”

“Worry about yourself, Harlow,” Brady replied easily, offering his palm to her. “I’ve seen you dance, you’re no Rita Hayworth.”

“And yet, you still want to dance with me,” Millie teased, laying her hand in his. Instantly, he curled his fingers around hers.

“Charity work,” Brady said as he started to lead her to the dance floor.

Millie rolled her eyes.

The two of them had never danced together. The first time they’d even touched had been last night, and they’d been completely alone. With everyone around, in the midst of a sea of couples, it should have felt awkward, uncomfortable, clunky, trying to figure out how they fit together as dance partners. But it didn’t. They slotted together as naturally and as easily as puzzle pieces, the wrong ones forcibly attached for so long that the right ones clicked instantly.

The song was slow. For better or for worse, that gave them time to talk.

Millie could not, for the life of her, keep her eyes off his lips.

“What were you and Benny talking about?” Brady asked when they started to sway together.

Millie let out an amused huff of breath. “None of your business.”

“Did he ask you to dance?”

“No.” He was asking me about you.

“Something about you looks different.”

Better? “New lipstick.”

“Right.”

“I borrowed it from Jem.” Silly thing to say. Why would he care?

“It’s - uh -” He cleared his throat.

Millie’s eyes drew up his face until she could meet his gaze. “It’s what?”

“Nothing,” he decided.

Millie nodded. His gaze was intense. “So you hate it,” she said.

He shook his head. The hold he had on the small of her back tightened slightly. “I don’t hate it,” he assured her softly.

If they had been alone, the both of them knew they would have been kissing by now. How quickly they’d fallen into a routine. This time yesterday they’d only ever dreamed about it, and only late, late at night when it was impossible to hide anything from yourself. Now it was something of a habit, unavoidable when they were in each other’s presence.

It was all either of them could think about.

 “I, uh,” Brady began. He tilted his head down closer to hers, speaking so softly his voice felt like feathers. “I’m flying again tomorrow.”

Millie nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible movement of her head. “I know,” she replied. “I work here.”

“Right.” He smiled and breathed a laugh.

Millie smiled right back at him.

“Good luck,” she offered quietly. “On your mission.”

“Thanks.” He nodded. He was staring so deeply into her eyes she felt like she was under a microscope. “I might - uh - I might get you on the radio.”

Millie laughed softly at this. “Only if you’re unlucky.”

He didn’t laugh with her, only kept on gazing deep into her eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed after a moment, when the joke had already passed.

It was impossible not to kiss him when he was looking at her like this, so Millie looked away. She set her eyes over his shoulder at the group of friends she’d left behind, watched as Jem joked with Benny and Freddie played with Meatball, as Dougie leaned lazily against the wall and Hambone came ambling over.

Millie and John were quiet for the rest of the song. Neither of them noticed, but they curled into each other more and more as time wore on, like a pair of mourning doves.

When the song ended and the next was ready to start, they untangled themselves from each other. They gave each other a nod, all formality as they tried to think up something, anything, to say, and parted ways without saying a word. They had only agreed on one dance, after all.

*

“Harlow,” Brady said as he came up behind her. “Can we talk?”

Silently, Millie sighed. She didn’t turn to look at him. “About what?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re talking,” he said. “In private.”

Millie knew exactly what that meant. They’d done this enough times by now to establish a pattern.

“I’m not in the mood to talk in private with you right now, Brady,” she said quickly, coolly. Freddie was having nightmares again - she hadn’t had nightmares since she’d first transferred to Thorpe Abbotts - so Millie had been up half the night trying to soothe her back to sleep. And Jem wasn’t very well - she’d gone home for the weekend and come back with food poisoning. Not to mention the fact that all this sneaking around was starting to make Millie anxious. She and Freddie and Jem didn’t keep secrets from each other, it wasn’t how they operated. It had taken a lot of courage for Freddie to tell them about Daniel, to open herself up to reliving the trauma of losing her soulmate if just so that Millie and Jem could know her entirely and understand her entirely, too. It felt wrong, after that, to hide this from them - from Freddie especially. She’d never had a friend like Freddie. It wasn’t right that she comforted Freddie about nightmares about her lost love, listened to her recount the gory details of his death and how she’d found out while she assured her everything was going to be okay, all the while sneaking around behind her back with a pilot of her own.

It felt wrong. Dirty. Millie wasn’t sure how she’d even gotten herself into this situation in the first place.

Brady wasn’t so easily dismissed. “What’s wrong?” he asked, falling into step beside her. When she didn’t spare him a glance he hissed out a sigh between his teeth and took a gentle hold of her elbow, tugging her behind him into the alley between buildings. Just like that very first time. The way it had all begun.

“Is this going to keep happening between us?” Millie demanded before Brady could get a word out. “You ask me to talk, in private, we fight, we kiss, and then we pretend to hate each other again. Is this the way it’s always going to be?”

Brady looked bewildered, like she’d just thrown a bucket of ice water in his face. He blinked at her for a few moments, his mouth half-open as he processed her words, and then he clamped it closed and said, “I’m only following your lead, Mils. You don’t exactly go out of your way to give me the time of day when we’re with everyone else.”

Millie rolled her eyes and turned away from him, staring at the patch of sky visible between the edges of the two buildings. “I won’t let you make me into an idiot, John,” she told him firmly. “Men have messed me around before and I won’t let it happen again.”

“Then what do you want from me, Mils?” John demanded. He reached for her hands but she wouldn’t let him take them. “You’re so goddamn difficult to read,” he said. “One second I think you like me, the next I think you’re about to knock my head off my shoulders. One second you act like you wanna dance with me, the next you’re dancing with Benny.” He shook his head with a low scoff. “You want me to show up at your door with roses when you won’t even make it clear to me what you want?”

Millie ground her teeth together and crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn’t think, for a moment, how on earth she wanted to reply. She could be vulnerable or she could be venomous, could pour her heart out to him or make him out to be delusional. She didn’t know which was wiser.

“I hate roses,” she said after a beat. “They’re cliché. And prickly. Any man who gets me roses is a man who doesn’t really know me - or really like me, more to the point.”

John didn’t say anything.

Millie’s heart was pounding in her ears as she ventured, “A man who was really after my heart would know to buy lilies.”

John was quiet for a moment. And then: “Lilies?”

“Orange lilies,” Millie confirmed softly. “They’re my favourite.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she felt the change in the air around him when his posture loosened and he started to smile. “Of course they are,” he said.

Finally, she turned back to him, but only to narrow her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s so like you,” he said, grinning. “Red roses are everywhere. I can’t remember the last time I saw an orange lily.”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking,” Millie said.

John was still grinning, shaking his head and laughing under his breath. “Do you know how long it’d take a guy to find you orange lilies?”

“If he really liked me, he wouldn’t mind, would he?” Millie fired back, tilting her chin up defiantly. “One day I’ll meet a man who would welcome the challenge because he just wants to make me happy. Don’t concern yourself about it, I’ll find him.”

His smile became strained, hard. “I’m not concerned about it,” he informed her evenly.

“I know you’re not,” she replied. “You’re content to kiss me in dark alleyways like some sort of -”

“Why do you always insist on arguing?!” Brady demanded, cutting her off. “Just when we’re making progress! You shut me out at every available opportunity, send me mixed signals and then complain that I’m not dropping to the ground and shoving an engagement ring in your face!”

“I wouldn’t want you to shove an engagement ring in my face, Brady,” Millie hissed, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “Forget I ever even said anything. I’d be embarrassed if anyone found out I’ve been entertaining your little charade.” She was being spiteful and she knew it but she was embarrassed, so embarrassed, that he was calling her out on her vulnerability. She’d tried to hide it, tried to be casual, but he could see right through her - of course he could! He always did. And now he was making fun of her for wanting more from him than whatever casual arrangement they’d fallen into. It was clear to her now that she’d misread him, had taken for granted that good Catholic boys only ever behaved as such when in reality they only behaved that way with women they were serious about.

Brady’s smile was bitter and full of disbelief. “Mils, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” she snapped. “You won, Brady. You made me into an idiot. Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t make you into anything,” Brady disagreed. “All I’ve ever done is try to be nice to you -”

“Oh, is that what all this was? You were just being nice? Taking pity on me? God forbid you ever actually listen to a word I say, Brady, but for the last time, you are not the only man who has ever shown an interest in me, hard as that may be for you to believe! Your charity work is over. Congratulations, you passed with flying colours.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?!” Brady demanded as she started to storm away from him. His footsteps were loud and echoing as he followed after her.

“Just leave me alone, Brady, for god’s sake,” Millie said over her shoulder. “Go back to ATA-Alice or literally anyone else, I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

Brady slowed to a stop, watching in utter bewilderment as Millie turned the corner and stomped off elsewhere. He really and truly had no idea what had just happened. But did he ever, really, with her? She was as infuriating as she was fascinating. He couldn’t stay away from her if he tried, and he had no interest in trying.

*

There was a rose waiting for her on her desk on Monday morning. A single red rose, all by itself, and Millie wasn’t sure whether to smile or scowl.

“Idiot,” she muttered, and the smile won out.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, Mils,” Freddie remarked as she took a seat at her own desk. “Did they leave a note?”

“No,” Millie said, still staring down at the rose. Tentatively, she reached out and picked it up, bringing it to her nose to smell.

“Who’s buying you roses?” Jem asked as she took her seat on Millie’s other side.

Millie smiled to herself as she set the rose back down and sat down in her desk chair. “No idea.”

Work that day could not have dragged on any longer. Millie felt like she was being suffocated by the many, many hours which stretched out before her. But, eventually, all the ATA pilots and all of the outgoing planes returned - those which were ever going to return, that was - and she was dismissed.

The other girls went straight to dinner.

Millie knew where she’d find the mastermind behind the stupid rose.

“Save me a seat!” she called over her shoulder to Freddie, Jem, and the rest of the wireless ops. “I’ll only be a minute!” She’d deliberately spilt water on her blouse right before the end of the workday to give herself an excuse to head back to the nissen huts. She wasn’t sure whether she’d really only be a minute. She didn’t think so.

True to prediction, John Brady was dawdling in the grass outside her hut when she approached. He didn’t see her just yet, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted back as he squinted into the sunlight, but she stopped a few metres away so she could really look at him.

He had no business being as handsome as he was. All boyish smiles and innocent blue eyes, biting wit and soft, fluffy hair. How was she ever supposed to come up against him in any significant way when he looked the way he did, said the things he did, acted the way he did? She’d been powerless from the start.

“You,” she called as she finally set her legs back into motion, “are such an arse, John Brady! Even when you’re nice you’re an arse!”

John was grinning when he turned to her. He shrugged. “A little birdie told me you like roses.”

Millie rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove when she came to a stop before him. “Shut up,” she said.

She kissed him, then, and couldn’t have given any logical reason for why other than she wanted to. She really, really wanted to.

He certainly wasn’t hurrying to make any complaints.

They wrapped themselves up in each other immediately, instinctively, like this was where they belonged and every second they spent apart was a second the world was off kilter. Anyone might have walked by for any reason and yet neither of them paid the outside world any mind. All of their attention, focus, thoughts were solely on each other.

When they pulled apart they were breathless, so close their chests pressed together as they breathed.

John was smirking. Because of course he was.

“If I knew I was gonna get a kiss anyway,” he said, all cocky and pleased with himself, “I wouldn’t have run around the whole of East Anglia trying to find these.”

He stepped away and Millie reached for him. His smile was soft as he took hold of both of her hands and pressed gentle kisses to the backs of both of them. Then he disappeared behind the door of her hut and emerged a moment later, still smiling, with a bouquet of orange lilies in one hand.

Millie’s smile ached in her cheeks. “You didn’t,” she said.

John shrugged. “I like to think I have my moments.”

“Where did you find them?” she demanded, accepting them from him and cradling them to her chest like a puppy.

John was grinning as he watched her. “Some East Anglian town. I couldn’t pronounce the name even if I remembered it.” He breathed a laugh. “But I thought they might make you happy, so they were worth the trip.” You were worth the trip. Worth an entire weekend pass spent looking for one bouquet of flowers.

Millie was still smiling wildly as she stepped back towards him, still cradling her flowers close to her chest. “Did they take you long to find?”

“A little.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”

Her smile turned sheepish. “I feel like I need to make a confession.”

John’s heart dropped. “Oh.” She had a boyfriend. Or she had a husband. Or she didn’t even like him in that way. Or the flowers were fakes. Or -

“I actually love roses.”

His jaw fell open.

Millie was grinning. “Oops?”

“Millie Harlow,” John said, fastening his hands on her hips and tugging her to him, shaking his head with a wide smile on his lips, “you are such a pain in my ass.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. She transferred her bouquet into one hand so she could wrap her arms around him, then smiled as she pushed up onto her tiptoes and nudged their noses together. “The feeling’s mutual.”