#Bucky Egan x oc

[wexhappyxfew]

hey shannon!!!! from prompt list 3 & the action category - “intervene” with kennedy and bucky, but kennedy is the one doing the intervening/defending him????!!! HELP - @softspeirs

KATIEEEE!!!!!! @softspeirs i am *here* i am *back* and we are here with a kennedy x bucky prompt that had me lowkey losing my mind w/this piece half-written months ago and me now just finally having the time to finish it up. the pure EXCITEMENT of this prompt with kennedy and bucky, kennedy's reactions, bucky's reactions and their dialogue....oh i was absolutely losing it. definitely one of my longer ones i think, but it came out just as i was hoping (and probably better). also the scene inspo for this hit me even before your prompt and when you sent this in - oh i was SO EXCITED. so i sincerely hope you enjoy!!! :D

flak-happy

(a/n): kennedy x bucky (pre-stalag, pre-anything-that-happened-in-the-stalag lmao). i fear we enter bucky: the definition of yearning, and kennedy: the definition of miss-repressed-emotions and oh boy does it make for the absolutely perfect combination, especially in a moment of time where things are turning rather dark and dreary and sad. oh kennedy farley you are so seen!!!! please enjoy my-return installment in the silver bullets universe!!! <3333 (he'll make it up to her, he swears)

"5-0," Kennedy said quietly, the tiny bit of newspaper in her hands something she was half-way between scorning, ripping into a million pieces, and lighting on fire, "they're trying to kill me."

"It's a baseball team, Kenny," Margie said from beside her, "the only thing actually trying to kill you are the Germans."

"But I have a helluva lot more emotional involvement to this team than the Krauts, Margie, that's the difference." Kennedy said, flipping the paper over and grumbling under her breath, "Fucking Danny Doyle - at this point, just say he's in left field 24/7, even when he's actually in left field. Can't even hit the goddamn ball."

"Okay," Vivian Ratcliff said quietly from beside Kennedy, plucking the newspaper clipping that Lieutenant Montez had gotten for her this morning from her fingers and neatly folding it up, "you need a drink. A stiff one at that." Kennedy sighed and crossed her arms between the two as they continued walking forward towards the flying club and bit back her lip.

"And I'm going to have to hear all about how the Yankees won their game," Kennedy mumbled, "please say we can open a tab?"

"Or!" Margie butted in, "Better yet, someone will already have a tab started for us." Kennedy glanced at Margie, gaze burning into the side of Vivian's head, who was currently running a hand through her short, dark curls in the hand-held mirror she was carrying with her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kennedy asked her and Margie chuckled.

"Ev Blakely." Margie offered with a grin, "He's always putting his ViVi on his tab."

"Oh, screw off, Margie." murmured Vivian, brushing her bangs that lay wilted against her forehead, back a bit - the entirely noticeable blush that had sprung across the waist gunners cheeks and the smile poking at her lips evidently hard to ignore.

"I am not, and I repeat, not his 'ViVi', he's just a sweet thing, a gentleman," Vivian offered with a shrug of her shoulders, wiping at a smudge of her red lipstick at the corner of her mouth gently, "honestly." Margie chuckled as Kennedy sent her a glance.

"Whatever you say, Viv, but he's a real charmer that Ev Blakely," Margie said, grinning, "especially that you're ViVi to him, hm?" A small smile quirked onto Vivian's lips as she snapped the hand-held mirror shut and slid it into her pocket and offered them a slight smile.

"Shall we head in?" she asked them with a smile and a nod before stepping inside, cheeks still flaming, "It seems like we're all in need of a stiff drink." Kennedy watched as Vivian then stepped inside, nodding and smiling to a few pilots that had stepped passed her. Slowly, Kennedy glanced towards Margie who simply smiled.

"What?" Margie said with a chuckle, "It's clear Blakely's sweet on her."

Heading inside the flying club, the atmosphere was alive with both a gentle, slow song by Ella Fitzgerald, the quiet chatter of voices still about the place and the mixture of smells which combined two of the finest things on Thorpe Abbotts - cologne and alcohol.

"Beer?" Vivian offered glancing back at both Kennedy and Margie stood in the small opening between the bar area and the dance floor.

"Yeah." Kennedy said quietly, following behind Vivian with a sparing glance towards the dance floor where Judy was, more probable, to be forcing Carrie to dance than anything it seemed.

A large group of some of the pilots had gathered in front of the wooden bar, a few backs turned their way, with a few pairs of wandering eyes meeting her own. At the moment, she made rather quick and inherent eye contact with Bucky Egan. Who was staring down Colonel Harding in front of him.

Kennedy glanced at Margie and Vivian, who sent her sparing looks as she stepped closer, curious to both listen in and figure out why the look in Bucky's eyes made her stomach twist.

"Now-now who's flak happy?' Bucky asked, leaned up against the bar, a morose look drawn on to his features, eyes peering into Colonel Harding's persistent and demanding. Kennedy stepped closer, her eyes looking to Colonel Harding's face - it was a mixture of sadness, grief and evidently being somewhat drunk, but it was somewhat a sorry sight.

"Who?" Colonel Harding seemed to challenge.

"You are." Bucky said with a nod, his eyes frozen on the Colonel's gaze. There was something slightly unsettling in that split second of time - this almost far-too-large group surrounding a somewhat bitter conversation. Flak-happy; what a word. Enough to stir thoughts of death in all of them. How much it surrounded them, consumed them. Buck's half-crescent glance towards Bucky was enough for Kennedy to catch Buck's gaze and see the unfurling repent growing.

"You are." the Colonel said firmly back.

"No, you are," Bucky said, before giving a quick tap of the back of his hand on the Colonel's front pocket, "sir."

For a moment, the low drone of the music seemed to dim to a distant hum as they all stood there, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to see the reaction of the Colonel, to someone like Bucky. Notorious for his outbursts at this point, it seemed.

Kennedy watched for a moment longer, before she bit the bullet and stepped forward, directly placing herself in front of Bucky and looking right up at the Colonel, hands placed behind her back, heart pounding in her ears, praying to God above that she didn't look a fool in this moment. Whatever conversation it had been, friendly or foe or whatever other words could've been tossed around - she was having none of it.

This was for Captain Dye, to celebrate 25 missions, for people to relax a bit. Not to think about what tomorrow or the coming days could bring.

Then, the Colonel began to laugh, eyes not fully connected to the bright laughter from his lips, reaching up to place his cigar to his alcohol-laced lips. Kennedy mimicked her best impression of a laugh that she could muster in this moment without feeling in-genuine and watched as the Colonel's eyes brightened a bit.

"Good to see you, Sergeant Farley." he said and she nodded, saluting as well.

"And you, Colonel." she said and he grinned, before turning away and pointing to the guys - 'Single fillies!' he began to yell and point, people clambering and murmuring amongst one another as the rather large group began to slowly disperse.

She watched, predictable as it was, Blakely saunter up to Viv and Margie seemed to drop to her knees immediately at the sight of a tail-wagging Meatball.

In the midst of this all, Kennedy seemed to only just remember now that she had stepped between the Colonel and Bucky in this very moment and that very same Bucky Egan was now stood just behind her.

And if anything, she knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face and would poke fun at her little heroic moment of relief. She really didn't know what had compelled her to do such a thing - to step in between people that had far higher ranking than she probably ever would. But there was something on his face, that look in his eyes. Like he was distant, in a completely different time zone and realm than where he actually was.

And she couldn't remember a time when Bucky had ever looked like that.

Kennedy found that she was bracing herself as she turned around, but by that moment, as she was turning, Bucky was already watching her. It looked like a mixture between an attempt to smile on his face, and the struggle of an onboarding cold front. And her heart sunk a bit.

Maybe she was a bit stupid for that.

They barely knew each other past their Yankees and Red Sox feud and those few times they'd had conversations together - about what, she wasn't sure - she had spent the greater part of the time noticing every bit about how his eyes lit when he laughed, the crinkle of his grin, the pure sound of his voice.

For what reason she was stockpiling those images and feelings in her brain, she'd never know.

But, standing here now, it felt completely different.

Bucky was different.

"Hi, Farley." he said, voice more exhausted sounding than intended it seemed.

"Hi." she said back, noticing their closeness to each other and the eager smell of his cologne, taking the opportunity to step back.

Then she stared at him - she had no clue what to say.

For the first time in months, she didn't have a clue what to say to him - to explain whatever that had been, to try and chalk it up.

Yeah, she had no clue.

"You alright?" she said him, before scratching the back of her neck.

"Doing the best I can, yourself?" He was bored of this conversation already, he was done with it - say something, say something. But when she took the chance to actually go to open her mouth, she noticed his eyes were far-off, looking past her shoulder.

Slowly, she took a glance and noticed all he was staring at were the people - the couples, the duos - dancing with each other. Kennedy looked back towards Bucky again and found his eyes trained on her again.

"You dance at all, Farley?" he asked her, leaning back up against the bar, the broad stretch of his shoulders enough to fill her entire birds-eye view, enough to make her cheeks tint to annoying pink.

"I regret to inform you that it is quite possibly the last thing you want me to do."

"Really?" Bucky asked with a wry chuckle, smirking at her, "Well, isn't this new. Thought Kennedy Farley was good at damn-near everything." Kennedy looked at him an tilted her head.

"Well, I don't know whether to take that as an insult or compliment, but I'm afraid that growing up my mother put me in ballet and in turned into a complete mess of me on stage - so no, I don't." she said, crossing her arms, suddenly wanting to get herself out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

"I'm intrigued," Bucky said, tilting his head slightly and nodding to her, "tell me more. Ballet, huh?"

"It was like a chicken on a balance beam, alright? I'm sure you could've done better than me-" Bucky chuckled at her mid-sentence.

"Were you really that bad?" he asked her, "I don't believe you."

"Wouldn't be the first time." she murmured and he raised a brow, "This typically would be the time where I ask the same question back, but I've seen you dance and well….clearly know you dance so…." Bucky let out a barking laugh and hung his head for a moment before looking back up at her.

"Well, Kennedy Farley, dancing is a whole lot more than just some stupid ballet classes your Mom put you in when you were a kid, alright?" he said, pushing off from the bar counter and stepping forward. Kennedy look up at him as he stepped closer and equally stepped back.

"What are you doing?" she asked him as he stepped in front of her, managing a small smile.

"Dancing." he said, "With you."

"You can't be serious-"

"Oh, I'm serious!" he said, reaching forward to take her right hand in his, adjusting his other hand to her waist. It was honestly a mixture of feelings, intoxication and his cologne that suddenly made her feel slightly insane.

"Bucky-"

"Nah, nah, you're fine, look at you," he said as they slowly started to sway back and forth, "you're a natural." Kennedy looked up at him, feeling every inch of her hand pressed into his, his other hand on her waist.

"Well, if we're doing this, then you oughta tell me what Colonel Harding was talking about when I came up to you all." she said, watching as his eyes darted to hers and his grip tightened.

"Maybe another time." he said tilting his head to the side, to which she raised a brow.

"Oh, no, no, no, I saw that look on your face-"

"Farley-"

"Major Egan." she said, pausing and looking up at him expectantly. It seemed to work. Bucky watched her, his grip tight on her hand and pouted his lips a bit.

"The war. In the air." Bucky said quietly, tilting his head to the side, "Guess you can say it's making people go crazy."

"Quite the observation." Kennedy murmured and Bucky let out a huff, "Well, why was he addressing you. I mean….sorta front and center there-"

"He thinks it's starting to get to me." Bucky said quickly, pausing as she peered up at him again, watching his eyes under the dimmed yellow lights of the flying club.

Kennedy felt her heart stammer for a moment as she looked up at Bucky - there was still that distant look in his eye, but something else that craved and yearned for touch and connection and possibly something else she couldn't quite decipher. She believed that was all anyone in this war wanted - when the battle was done, when the flight crews were back at base, sweat and grease-stained faces, eyes hazy and glazed. All people wanted was someone else to get it, to understand them and hold them and tell them that maybe things were going to be okay.

But, with Bucky, with their separation of rank and about a million other things, she quite honestly, was at a loss for words.

"You?" she instead asked quietly. Bucky watched her, face unchanged.

"Yeah." he said quietly, almost ashamed, "A trip to London would probably do me some good, don't you think?" Kennedy watched him - he wanted this. He agreed with the Colonel. Bucky wanted this.

"If that's what you want-"

"I think the Colonel was really onto something, Farley." Bucky said, stopping her mid-sentence, "Doing those missions. Over and over. I feel like I'm going crazy." Kennedy felt like she couldn't even hear the music anymore, she didn't even realize how close they were into each other's hands and arms, she didn't even realize the tick of desperation in Bucky's voice. Like he was alone in the dark, trying to grasp onto something.

"Bucky." Kennedy said quietly, watching as he sighed and shook his head, dropping her hand, removing his, rather warm, hand from her waist and stepping back.

"Sorry." Bucky said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before turning back to the bar and finishing what was left of his drink, before looking at her again, "I shouldn't have said a damn thing. Freak you out when you're trying to relax. I'll…" Bucky watched her and sighed, before stepping around her, "I'll see you around."

Kennedy stood there, the flash of his body disappearing from in front of her, the hint of sweat, beer and cologne trailing as she turned to look over her shoulder and found him moving right out of the room.

Kennedy's heart was in her throat - a mixture of feelings of not knowing what Bucky would do next, especially being alone and if this was making her suddenly want to do anything she could to help him.

So, she did the only thing a Farley would do. She hurried after him. She kept her eye on his form as he hurried out and into the cool night air.

Stepping outside she looked over and found him stood at the edge of the road, against the lick of grass that spread between the barracks and looked towards the dark airfield.

"You know, it really isn't the nicest thing to leave a girl hanging on the dance floor," Kennedy started, walking towards him, a slight smile on her face, "especially if she just told you how much she really didn't like dancing." She tried to joke about it, but she just watched Bucky's shoulders drop the slightest bit instead as he ran his hand again over his hair to hang on his neck.

"Sorry, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "I just, I don't want to rope you into this, right now." Bucky said, motioning to himself. Kennedy raised a brow.

"Rope into what, Bucky, I'm right here." Kennedy said watching his back and crossing her arms, "Quite frankly, you just told me you think you're going crazy from it all and downed the rest of your drink. And probably are slightly buzzed. So. I will rope myself into this." Kennedy eyed the few newer airmen walking by them. "Sir." Bucky glanced over his shoulder at her and she simply stared back.

If he wanted her to be scared of this side of him, it would have to take a whole lot more for her to disappear, for her to run.

This Bucky she almost liked. Where he wasn't putting up the facade, the mask, the strong-front that showed he was fine.

Because no one was fine when their job was trying to just beat the odds and survive.

"Farley-"

"Bucky." she said and she watched as he stared at her. He grew quiet.

Slowly, she stepped closer and moved to stand there beside him. Glancing upwards, she found him, looking far off again towards the darkened tarmacs with B-17s.

There was something about standing there in damn-near total silence with him. It was so unlike any other version of the Bucky Egan she'd met, but in this moment, she hoped that this was exactly what he needed.

Someone to be there, but to stand in this silence with him.

Away from the music and the drinks and the B-17s and the bullets.

Away from it all.

All to simply realize he was alive, and on the ground and standing on his own two feet.

"To get in one of those planes again," Bucky started quietly, "I can't….it's hard. To do that. Again and again." Kennedy looked up at him, her face drawn into one of concern and worry.

"I know." she said quietly, watching his eyes as he glanced at her, "It scares me. Every time without fail. After what had happened with Birdie and then Margie those few months ago. The thought? Jesus, I didn't want to have to leave solid ground." Bucky watched her for a moment.

"You don't give off the impression that you're scared, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "always thought you were one of the strongest we got." Kennedy managed a genuine smile up at him.

"Thanks, Bucky." she said - genuinely - she figured people didn't see that often, so she could appreciate when someone like Bucky told her that. He managed a slight smile at her words.

"Would you go to London?" he asked her and she felt her face change into one of slight surprise and near-joking. She offered him a look, one where she almost burst out laughing.

"Me?" she asked him and he nodded, "No, no….probably not." She looked at him again and almost nervously laughed.

"Silver Bullets needs me. And for the moment, despite everything, I'd rather let that trip go to someone else, who needs it more." Like you, she thought quietly. She looked at him and found his face saddened a bit and offered a shoulder bump.

"Go to London. Take the trip." she said softly, "Take some time to relax." Bucky looked at her, his eyes aching to watch hers it felt as she stared at him.

In another world, she would've said she'd loved to go to London - she always heard about London as a kid; Buckingham Palace, the guards in their uniforms, the city streets, all of it. But for now, she didn't need it. She was fine.

"Well….I only asked because…" Bucky cleared his throat, "Buck sorta denied my offer and I figured, well, since you and just about everyone else also need a break, figured I'd offer to come. With me." Kennedy looked up at him, her cheeks flamed in the darkness and she hoped the fact the moon was covered by clouds, covered her obvious shyness.

"Oh." Kennedy said quietly, her eyes wanting to leave Bucky's but whole-heartedly refusing. In her mind, she told herself that he could tell something was most definitely wrong with her, with her blubbering and lack of words and shock and nervousness. But instead he offered a slight smile her way.

"I mean," she started, a small laugh escaping her lips, "you're….you're a Major, Bucky, and I'm just, I'm a Sergeant. And we're from different planes. And it'd be…I don't know, people, they'd say stuff-"

"Farley," Bucky said, "we're…..friends, ya know, it'd just be us two. As….friends." And even she wasn't convinced of his words in that moment and suddenly she felt hot all over and the thoughts in her mind were enough to force her to look away from Bucky in an instant. She looked forward again over the field of B-17s in the darkness and swallowed her shaky breaths.

"Farley, I…" Bucky started, before clearing his throat, "I just…I think I'm drunk. Just, ignore me-"

"Okay." Kennedy said quickly, looking over at him and nervously meeting his gaze with a nod, swallowing sheepishly as she looked up again to his eyes, "I-"

She really couldn't get herself to speak properly at the thought. Of Bucky. Her head felt light, her cheeks hot, her body hot, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

He was drunk, she told herself, he was drunk and wouldn't remember this and she could go back to being brazen and bold and stubborn with him.

Not this mushy, genuine and sweet part of herself that she rarely showed a soul.

Looking at Bucky, suddenly her mind went into a frenzy at the thought of the two of them, in a room together, in London - how awkward it would be!

She'd take the bed closest to the window, he'd take the one closest to the door and she'd have to hear his every breath as he fell asleep and his snores through the night.

And she'd have to wake up and he'd see her exhausted and barely awake and exceptionally grumpy.

And then he'd say something about how she reminds him of the pigeons on the streets in the city and she'd launch her shoe at him.

And then she'd feel embarrassed having to get ready and knowing he's right in the other room.

And - no, it was too much. Because what if they just happened to ignore it all and she allowed herself to feel these feelings that made her feel sick to her stomach - no. She looked away from him and suddenly wanted to be alone.

No, let him go to London - get the drinks, get the girls, and she'll keep her mouth shut.

Because he was right - they were just two people, barely even friends, who happened to know each other and have strong opinions about baseball. No, she wasn't going to say a thing.

"I'll make it up to you then someday, Farley - the dancing," Bucky said before patting her shoulder gently and letting out a low whistle, "I'm off to barracks. Figured I need to shut up before I keep letting my mouth yap, ya know?" Kennedy slowly looked over at him, sticking his hands in his pockets and giving her a wide smile - one between a forced and slightly buzzed grin and a genuine one.

"I'll let you know how London is, okay?" he said and she nodded, tying herself directly to where she was standing so she wouldn't convince herself to follow him again.

"Okay." she said and he smiled wider and then mock-saluted to her before turning away.

"I'll be seeing you, Farley." he said and as he staggered down the path, her own heart thumping inside her chest she shut her eyes and let out a breath before crossing her arms tighter across her chest.

She couldn't have said anything better? Come up with better words? A better send-off and good-bye? Should she have taken the offer?

No, no, no, no. Nope.

And with that, Kennedy turned and moved right back into the flying club and ordered as strong a drink she could get at this time of night.

[prfctplcsreads]

ANDI’S FIC RECS NO. 2

Hi, lovelies! August has (once again) slipped away into a moment in time, so I’m back with a lovely list of some of my favorite fics I read over the summer months. I figured since it’s been 2 whole years since posting my first fic rec list that I should probably make a new one seeing as I have changed, as has my taste and my life (now part of the “my dad left!” club!!). ANYWAYS. Nothing below is ranked— nor is it near all of what I’ve read— just randomized fics that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since reading them. xoxo, andi <3

**WARNING: Below contains links to 18+ writings. I am not responsible for those who choose to interact with these writings. It is view discretion advised! Minors, please respect the wishes of myself and authors who do not wish for minors to interact with their works or blogs in general!**

KEY: 🍊: fluff. 🍋: angst. 🍒: nsfw. 🫐: au.

LOGAN HOWLETT / WOLVERINE

Right Where You Left Me (series) by @moonlight-prose 🍊🍋🍒

Guess by @bpmiranda 🍒

Logan Saves Jean Instead of You by @not-neverland06 🍋🍊

Room For Rent by @proxima-writes 🍊🍒

Guilty Pleasure + Part II by @joelsgoldrush 🍊🍒

Rooftops by @superhoeva 🍋 (genuinely made me cry just thinking about it 3 hours after reading it.)

Come On And Show Me + Part II by @eupheme 🍒

Sugar, Sugar (series) by @eupheme 🍊🍋🍒

Tending to Older!Logan by @eupheme 🍊

I Don’t Know Why I Bite by @not-neverland06 🍋

Snapdragons Mean I’m Sorry by @thebestandworstdayofjune 🍊

Theory of Gravity by @dreamwritesimagines 🍊

On His Six by @superhoeva 🍊🍒

JACAERYS VELARYON

Can I Go (Where You Go?) by @softspiderling 🍊🫐

Silken Streets by @eldrith 🍊🍒

RAFE CAMERON

Illicit Affairs (series) by @softspiderling 🍊🍋🍒

Ocean Blue Eyes (series) by @softspiderling 🍊🫐

ART DONALDSON

The Pro + Part II by @youvebeenlivingfictional 🍊🍒

JOHN “BUCKY” EGAN

Dear John (series) by @precious-little-scoundrel 🍊🍋🍒

[jointherebellion215]

Worth

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: You're swept off your feet by one Major John C. Egan, and you love every second of it. Sequel to Birdie.

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags: female!reader, mechanic!reader, women™, period typical sexism & misogyny, fun date night, dude w/ a small dick gets rightfully called out, mostly just fun date stuff, tons of fluff

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the kind words on Birdie. I really appreciate everyone's comments, they warm my heart right up. I almost didn't write this, but the thought of having these two smooch it up was too good to pass up. I also completely headcanon that Bucky has the biggest sweet tooth, oops. As always, I'd be most gracious if you were to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog :)

Read the OC Version of this story on AO3!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, please don't copy, repost, or translate my writing without explicit prior permission. Don't even think about it, AI!

A knock at the door brings butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh, he’s here!” Irene shouts, which is immediately met with your shushing, as well as Teresa’s.

You nervously pat your hair and check over your outfit for the evening. You’re spending your second day’s leave on a date with Bucky Egan. He had approached you last night at the pub, asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Alone. 

You, of course, said yes.

Teresa and Irene go to answer the door while you gather your purse, stuffing it with your essentials. Your friends greet him at the same time, sounding like twins.

“Good evening, Major!”

“Good evening, Major!”

You hear his deep voice reply, only a small bit of surprise leaking into his voice.

“Good evening, ladies. Is Birdie around? We have dinner plans.”

“I’m here! Hi.” You step around the wall that hides you from the front door, taking a look at the man you’d been crushing on for months. He stands tall and confident in his neatly pressed uniform, hat covering most of his dark curls. His mouth gapes, giving you a once over and attempting to speak up.

“I- You-…Uh, wow. Y-you look…” But any sweet words he attempts to say are interrupted by Irene, who comes in hot with a manic smile.

“Did you know that my daddy taught me how to shoot when I was just a little girl? I’m real good at it. They call me Oakley, back home, cause of how great a marksman I am. Y’know, like Annie Oakley?” She stepped forward, puffing up her chest and giving a frightening grin to Major Egan. You and Teresa exchanged confused looks, not knowing quite where she was going with this.

“I’m not allowed a sidearm or a rifle over here, but I’m sure I could easily borrow one from any of the fellas on base should you break my best friend’s hea—”

“OKAY! We don’t wanna be late, all the tables might be taken soon. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!” You quickly shove past the blonde, stepping over the threshold. You take Bucky’s hand and practically drag his tall form down the hallway, away from your best friend’s attempt at a shovel talk.

You faintly hear Teresa’s well wishes to you amid the aggressively whispered conversation she has with Irene. The last words you hear before the elevator door closes in front of you are a heavily accented protest from Irene.

“What? I was just trying to..!”

The pair of you stand in the elevator in silence. A slight rocking indicates the starting motion of it, which snaps you back to reality. Looking down, you realize that you’re still holding hands with Bucky. You quickly separate your hand from his, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Your friends seem nice.”

Your head snaps to glance at Bucky, who is already looking at you. A sincere smile graces his face, not a hint of mocking in his eyes. 

“I’m glad you have them looking out for you.” 

You feel your face start to cool down, making you comfortable enough to respond. 

“They drive me nuts sometimes. But they’re the best friends I could ever ask for.” You mean every word. 

You see John nod, so you turn back to look to the elevator doors in front of you. An awkward pause.

“You look beautiful.”

Another pause. “What?”

“It’s what I meant to say earlier. That you look beautiful. Because you do.”

Heat quickly returns to your cheeks, spreading throughout your whole upper body. You give a bashful smile, peeking up at him through your lashes. You gaze into his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, Johnny. You look quite handsome yourself.” The Major adjusts his hat, covering just the tips of his ears. He returns your gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous grin. The floor gives a slight rattle, elevator door and gate opening to reveal the lobby.

John straightens up, holding out his arm for you to take. You tentatively weave your hand within the crook of his elbow. He gently presses his arm in, bringing your body closer to his. 

You meet your other hand in its position and let Bucky lead you out of the hotel and into the evening air.

✨

“That was so delicious! I never knew that a roast could be so tender…”

The pair of you were walking arm-in-arm down a cobblestone street, just having finished dinner. It was a wonderful time. Bucky had been the perfect gentleman, but made his interest in you clear without being sleezy.

He was entirely focused on you the whole time. He asked questions and was genuinely invested in your answers. Conversation came to the two of you like a duck to water. After a shared glass of wine, his hand had slowly inched towards yours. Soon he had cradled it in his, like you were a precious commodity, until your meals arrived. You could hardly keep your eyes off of each other long enough to even promptly acknowledge the wait staff, which you were sure annoyed some and amused others.

Safe to say, John Egan was doing his best to sweep you off your feet.

You hadn’t discussed any other plans for after dinner, but the walk you’re on now is nice enough to give you reason to stick close together.

Bucky nods along, “And that fruit tart? Incredible.”

You laugh, leaning into your date, “I knew that would be your favorite part. You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?” 

Bucky holds his hands up with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Hey, I plead the fifth.” 

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone so adamant on having some coffee with his sugar.” You continue to tease him. He nudges you playfully, giving a smooth grin in return.

“Hey, we’re in a war! If you see something sweet,” Bucky surprises you by picking you up and twirling you around, getting a full belly laugh from you as he sets you back on the ground.

“You gotta snatch it up and enjoy it while you can.”

You have a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about food. 

By that point, you’re leaning against his front, hands on both of his shoulders. The moment has shifted into something else. Something different. His eyes roam your face, eventually stopping on your lips. Just as he starts to lean in, the moment is shattered by the sound of instruments starting up nearby. Bucky flinches, cursing the ill-timed disruption. 

Oblivious to his turmoil, you gasp in delight and look around for the source of the music.

“Do you hear that? I think there’s a band playing!” 

You spot a few people walk into what looks like a club. It barely a stone’s throw from where you’re both currently standing. 

Bucky quickly recovers, “Should we grab a drink? Have a dance or two?”

You beam at him, and his heart stutters in his chest once more. After you give a nod, you place your hand in his arm and let him lead you into the club.

The two of you step into the establishment, and the energy is almost electric. There are mills of people walking about, drinking, talking, laughing. There’s a great score more on the dance floor, hopping and jiving along to the band you now knew you’d heard earlier. There weren’t a lot of uniforms present, but the ones that were were RAF.

Bucky guides you to the bar, hand on your back until you're both sat on a pair of stools. Your drinks are quickly ordered and served, so your night continues. You both allow yourselves to talk shop for a moment, so your conversation turns towards what you were working on before your leave. As you get to discussing the more intricate parts of your project, you hear a scoff from behind you.

John quickly looks over your shoulder, spotting the culprit.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

You turn around to find a uniformed man taking a sip of his whiskey, RAF logo plastered on the lapel. He mockingly shakes his head, placing the glass down on the bar.

“No, no problem at all.”

Bucky, ever the confrontationist, persists. “It seems like there’s a problem here.”

You gesture towards the man, silently indicating that he was welcome to speak his mind. 

“It’s not enough that you Yanks come over to our country, destroy our pubs and disrespect our women with your recklessness. But you can’t even keep your own women in check! She should be at home, away from the war, for God’s sake. Taking care of the house and the children. You know, doing feminine duties.”

You had heard all of this before, so it was no skin off your back to hear it again. You roll your eyes and decided to just ignore him. Then the man started to laugh, as if he was in on a private joke.

“I mean, a female mechanic? Between that and your daytime missions, it’s no wonder you’re all dropping like flies.”

You let out an exhale, letting the air stream out through your nose. In your periphery, you see Bucky start to stand— to, no doubt, escalate the situation. You stop him with a hand on his chest. He sits back down, looking between you and the man who had just insulted you. You set your glass down, hopping off the stool and giving a slow clap. 

“I’m so glad to know that some people still live in the Stone Age, where apparently all a woman is good for is cooking and giving birth! Thank you so much for showing us exactly what a lack of education and individual thought looks like! See where we are—over in modern times— women can do whatever the hell they want. That includes fixing your planes and jeeps, operating your radios, driving your trucks, and even training your allies to use machine artillery!”

The RAF soldier realizes what he’s gotten himself into but is backed into a corner of the bar as you pace forward with each scathing word that leaves your mouth.

“Never mind all the bullshit you just spouted about what a woman is fit to do. I think that women can decide for ourselves exactly what we can and cannot do. As for my countrymen, I’m proud to serve alongside them. They go up every day willing to sacrifice themselves so that the rest of us don’t have to. They’re gonna be remembered for their bravery and grit. They’re not cowardly enough to hem and haw and stick up their noses at the thought of a woman doing something other than popping out a kid and ironing their pleats.”

The music has dulled down, but you don’t have the complete attention of the club. That gives you the courage to say your final piece.

“Never you mind. I'm confident that the men I serve with, including the man I have with me tonight, aren’t anything like you. Thank God for that! They're not so…” You take an exaggerated glance towards the man’s crotch, scrunching up your nose. “…small-minded.”

Leaving the gaping man behind, you turn to Bucky and ask if he wants to go get some air. He picks his jaw up off the floor quick enough to nod and lead you back outside into the street.

Hey, hanging around Irene pays off sometimes.

As you step out into the night air, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel John step up behind you, voice carefully asking,

“Hey, are you okay? Birdie?”

You continue to stand with your eyes closed. You just needed a moment.

“I’ve come too far to let anyone’s opinion of me, or my career choices, effect me.”

You open your eyes and look over your shoulder at your date. He gives an understanding nod, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lean back into him, closing your eyes once more, letting him comfort you for the time being.

“Sorry if I ruined the night.”

You can feel a rumble from Bucky’s chest as he chuckles. “Oh, this night’s far from ruined. In fact, that was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

One of your eyes pops open. You crane your neck to peek at him, “Even better than the time you told me about Curt knocking out an RAF officer in one punch?”

“Yep.”

“Winning that bet to get your bicycle?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Better than your fruit tart from dinner?”

His smile widens, “Okay, let’s not get crazy here. Maybe it was top ten.”

“Top ten?!” You playfully gasp, turning around to face him again. You rest your hands on your hips, “What’s a girl gotta do to rank above a fruit tart around here?”

“Well…” You scoff and shove Bucky at the cheeky smirk he gives you. You’re quickly distracted by the sound of the band inside starting up again. This time with a familiar tune.

“Oh, your song’s on, Johnny!”

Bucky tosses his hat to the side, steps back and gives a very unserious bow. He then sneers with a hyper-nasal impression of the RAF officer you’d just affronted.

“My lady.”

You roll your eyes and give a joking curtsy in return, taking his offered hand. He pulls you into a proper stance for a waltz, which is a complete offset to the jive song that reaches your ears. You both jokingly hop along in the awkward squared formation for a moment, giggling to yourselves. 

He gently pushes on your hip while outstretching his hand, so you take the cue and twirl until you’re both standing at each other’s fingertips. A quick grasp of your hand and a pull twirls you right back into his arms, bumping into his chest. The moment made you burst into laughter, leaning into your dance partner until the song ends. 

The next song is a much slower tune, giving Bucky the chance to pull you in close. You hum along to the band playing, sidling up to the Major’s chest. He places a hand in yours and loops the other around your waist. Your free arm gently drapes under his and over his shoulder, encouraging a lean into his firm body. You both give a slow sway, leading each other back and forth in the quiet echoes of the street. Closer than before.

“You know, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner for a while now.” 

You lay your head on the knuckles of your hand that rest on his shoulder, responding lowly. 

“Really?”

You continue to sway.

“Yeah.”

You’re curious, so you ask, “What made you finally do it?”

He thinks on the answer for a moment, almost chewing on his thoughts. John is not the kind of person to typically contemplate over an answer, so you gift him all the time in the world to respond. You recognize how important that is to him.

“I… I think that it was a lot of little things.” He pulls you in closer. “Your smile, your eyes, the way you talk about the things you love. Birdie, you are so personable with everyone you come into contact with and it’s so magnetic.” 

The flow of compliments shocks you, not expecting this barrage of details to come from the man in front of you. But you dance on anyways.

“But I really think what did me in was yesterday, at the pub. When you looked at me during your song.”

You remember. You know exactly what he was talking about. Whatever he must have felt, you know that you felt it too.

He continues to speak in an intimate tone as you sway along in the street.

“I felt my entire life click into place. It was like everything suddenly made sense. I didn’t have to wonder about what my life was going to be like in five, ten, fifteen years. Because I knew.”

He pulls back to look you in the eye, and the amount of vulnerability in his eyes floors you. 

“I’ll be honest, it scared the shit outta me. It terrified me.”

You understand what he meant. This is all new to him, as it is to you. You pull his forehead to touch yours, noses gently brushing one another, as you offer your best words of comfort in that moment.

“Sometimes, you have to do what scares you the most to find out what’s worth doing.” 

He cups your face, letting his lips ghost against yours. He made his intentions clear, but it was up to you to decide how you move forward.

So, you close your eyes and take the leap.

Your lips press into his, hands stroking the arms that were framing your face. He immediately responds in kind, lips moving in tandem with yours. You melt into him at the reciprocated motion. His arms soon move to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms reach around his neck, hands resting at the nape of his neck. As he deepens the kiss, you run your hands up, down, and through the dark curls on the back of his head, earning a groan from your partner.

A burst of warmth sparks from within your very being, traveling further and further through your body until you’re consumed by flames. Half of your mind is scrambling to make sense of reality, and the other half is completely consumed by passion.

After a moment, you reluctantly separate from one another, panting to catch your breath. It’s as if the world stopped spinning when you connected, and then started up again when you parted. 

Giving a nervous look to the man you just kissed, you’re elated when he gives you an ear-to-ear grin. He grasps one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. His other hand comes up to cup your face again, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

You stay silent for the time being, letting the moment marinate. He brings up your joined hands to kiss the back of your palm. Your heart jumps with joy at the sight.

Bucky gives an exhale before breaking the silence.

“You are most definitely worth it.”

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John || Tell me you didn’t

Dear John || Masters of the Air fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

Circa: August 1943

Plot: Gale Cleven learns that not only did his best friend send dubious fanmail while blind drunk, he seems to have singled out with his indomitable luck the one starlet of the silver screen capable of matching his depravity

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive and crass content, it’s pretty much two boys acting like a couple of girls at a sleepover deciphering a dirty text from one’s crush

My thanks to my baby Bri for literally being the brains behind the plot and for Christi for assuring me this ain’t trash. We shall if y’all share those sentiments…

The referenced letter link 💌

“Tell me you didn’t.” Gale managed to keep his tone calm but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit his fingertips had gone a little chilly.

“I-“ Egan threw his arms out as if a better truth might form with a little more gesticulation but nothing came, “I did, Buck.” he admitted.

“You wrote it blind drunk.” Gale reminded him with urgency, as if the reminder of its ill calculated circumstances could snatch back his letter from out of Lana Tierney’s posh mailbox.

“I did!” He agreed, “-And I sent it blind drunk. And I never thought she’d read it.”

“I saw you eat it!” Cleven’s voice was growing angry, “I made you-“

“That may have been a botched first draft to Donny’s folks instead.” Egan winced.

Both of them lapsed again into silence, staring warily at the unopened and daintily addressed envelope in Egan’s hand like it might explode at any moment.

“You sonuvabitch.” Gale breathed, two frantic pink splotches appearing on his cherub cheeked face, judgment and disbelief making a whirlpool of his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute. What all did you even say?”

“I didn’t tell her about ACORN!” John vowed like a child swearing to their sibling regarding secrets kept from mother, “I mean, i called her that but I didn’t explai-“

“-John!”

“-and I said a lotta nice things too, I think, but, I also-“ Egan scrunched his eyes up as if to either better recall or maybe banish entirely all memory of his sentiments, “-I may have mentioned wanting to give her children.”

“JOHN!”

“It can’t have been that bad, she wrote back!” Egan defended with wounded hope, holding up his still sealed prize. “Buck, swear to God, I never thought she’d read it.”

Gale slumped down next to him on the bed as if the ordeal in voyeuristic stupidity had taken something out of him. “Maybe she didn’t.” he suggested grimly. “Maybe it’s from her attorney tellin’ you to never contact her again.”

He was enjoying ruining this moment a little too much, and now Egan was growing angry he had waited to open it until confiding in his friend. Not a little anxious, and not a little smug, Egan flipped the envelope over, ready to tear its flap. That’s when he saw the kiss print. “Ha!” he barked, flipping it back up and shoving it directly in front of Gale’s crossing eyes, “Do lawyers leave lip prints?” he questioned cockily and when Gale pulled far enough away to ascertain for himself, he gave a conceding nod.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.” John goaded but his heart beat a crazy and skittish rhythm as he slipped his finger inside the fold and tore at the slip.

Lovely, scented, gold embossed stationery came into view, it made Egan question how well he had washed his hands the paper was so white and pristine.

“Well?” Gale kept to a respectful distance of half a foot away from his friend on the bed, and being a good sort of man, he was not snooping or side eyeing private correspondence.

“Uh, yeah, right.” Bucky rallied himself and unfolded the missive fully, forcing his eyes to focus on deciphering charming, school girl cursive. “Get over here, Buck.” he griped at last as it was hopeless to make headway between his own nerves and Cleven’s hovering presence.

Gale didn’t move and Bucky didn’t expect him to so he scooted over herself, smashing him on the edge and held the letter out as they both leaned in.

“Dear John, -I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to.”

“Oh shit.” Bucky swore in realization.

“She’s funny.” Gale’s tone was ever so mild.

“Nah she’s, Buck, she’s quoting me back to me I told her -nevermind, let’s see-“

They peered back at the letter together, Cleven more invested that he’d ever admit and Bucky’s heart doing the oddest little flips at the realization that someone gave enough of a damn to write this sorta thing back to him.

“Heartfelt.” Gale murmured her choice of words for Bucky’s letter aloud with something close to relief, only to be then followed by a groan- “you did not write the word ‘knockers’ in a letter to a woman!”

“You're right, you’re right,” Egan ducked his head, repentant, he wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he got a wallop from Cleven for it, “awful of me. I admitted it even then. She admits it. Let’s move on.”

“RACK!” Cleven growled moments later in growing disbelief. “Jesus, John.”

“Oh don’t act better than all of it, you know she’s got the best melons out there-“

“-you’re the one who felt compelled to write a nice young lady and tell her as much.” Buck stabbed an accusatory finger dangerously close to Egan’s nose, “And used vulgarities while at it.”

Egan gave a defensive shrug and began his reading anew. “She said she’s fizzing…over making babies.” he whispered, “With me.” John was awed and this time Cleven had no rebuttal, just ever growing wonderment on his ever reddening face. “And she says here, look! she says you’re a bad boy for breaking us up that night! HA!”

“She’s being polite Bucky,” Gale cautioned, worried at where this surge of confidence might lead, “she didn’t admit to remembering a bit of it. They send girls to school to let fellas like you down easy.”

“Aww, now she says to give ya a kiss.” Egan cooed, saccharine and wicked, “See, she’s so nice and you’re the one who’s awful, doubting her like that. She says to give ya one if you’re the sort to take it well, are ya Buck, huh? Are you? Huh?”

“No, no! Jesus, get off me!” Cleven exerted every bit of his wiry strength to lug off the sudden onslaught of Egan’s heavy embrace as they folded together back onto the bed, John’s mouth making sickening smooching noises against Cleven’s baby smooth cheek, mustache a foreign and terrifying tickle on his jaw. “Get the hell off me, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m riled, just like her, that’s what’s wrong.” Egan replied vehemently, pulling his face away but keeping a perturbed Buck beneath his greater weight. “And maybe one day you’ll know what that feels like, Goldilocks. See, says right here: *I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists* Do you hear that?” He demanded, still holding the letter aloft as Gale looked up at him with the sort of patience people reserve for lunatics liable to murder them at the least hint of movement. “I’ve made her horny.” he spelled it out and Gale’s face somehow flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. “She wants to know what acorn means.”

“Don’t you ever tell her.” Gale warned.

“Why not?”

“It’s not even a good acronym, it’s misspelled and missing a whole word.”

“She wants it to be ‘salacious’ -says so herself.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Bucky flipped the letter over for Gale to see and judging by the panic in his eyes he caught more lines than that one alone.

“Jesus.” he repeated, it was starting to sound like a genuine beg for divine intervention. “Get off me.”

That itching physical impulse to roughhouse remained but Egan obligingly rolled to the side, aware Buck didn’t have what would cure his own riled self. “She says she enclosed something for the morale, said to keep it safe. But there’s not anything else. You see anything else?”

“I don’t.” Buck sounded worn down but he made an effort to look around amongst the sheets.

“Julia Jean.” Egan pondered, “Says that’s her real name.”

“Yeah, well, maybe now you can stop calling her acorn every damn time she comes on screen.”

“Don’t count on it.” Egan grinned back.

“Maybe it’s still in the envelope.” Gale suggested, tentatively picking up the air mail slip and handing it to Bucky.

Egan sat up and shook the paper between them, wondering if it was really something worth hiding from the censors like some OSS spy shit. A couple of shakes and sure enough, some slippery little card shaped thing fluttered out of a crease and wafted to the ground, settling between Buck’s boots. John’s stoic young friend bent over and retrieved it, but not without his entire spine stiffening like he’d been hit as soon as he’d caught it.

“Jesus.” it was more of a wheeze this time. Gale’s slow hand raised it and passed it over.

There wasn’t anything to say, not when confronted with such perfection. Not even a shielding arm to cheat him of the whole display, nothin’ at all but a carefully cropped photograph of the ripest pair of-

“Goddamn.” John’s tongue finally materialized a sentiment and he heard Gale’s appreciative sharp intake of breath beside him as if he’d forgotten to breathe here lately. “They’re wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Gale’s own throat sounded dry as dust, “W-we should probably stop starin’.”

“Whadda ya think she sent ‘em for?” John laughed, a rough, victorious laugh, never once dragging his admiring eyes away from them or ceasing to thumb over the shiny print. He could almost feel her warm, giving flesh under the pad of his finger, could almost imagine the pebble of a rosy nipple responding to his swipes.

“Yeah, they’re alright-“

“Alright? Alright!?” Egan repeated, incensed for his beloved’s reputation, “THESE ARE THE BEST TITS IN THE NATION!”

Gale actually looked mildly chastened, especially as his eyes strayed guiltily back to the photograph like twin marbles gravitating to the corner of a box when tipped.

“I know you haven’t seen many, Buck,” Egan goaded him further, “but take it from me -they don’t get better than this. And you better enjoy this look, it’s your last, she told me to keep them safe. So see this? These? This pair? S’why we fight, Buck.”

“Don’t be crass, John,” Gale stood up abruptly, less angry at his friend than at himself for his momentary lapse of discipline, “we fight for the people we love.”

“Course we do,” John grinned, “but I also happen to love these, told her so myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did.” Bucky was pretty chuffed, bouncing on the edge of the bed like he had her seated in his lap right now, “Everybody’s got to have a goal, Buck, you wanna marry Marj and I wanna aggressively come on ripe knock-“

“-A.C.O.R.N. yeah, yeah.”

“Acorn.” Bucky grinned in agreement.

“You gonna admit to her you didn’t know knockers was spelled with a k?”

“I did, too! Just couldn’t make it work.”

“Still doesn't work.” Buck informed, but his smile was returning, he’d not been this close with Bucky for this long not to learn to roll with the differences and appreciate that what made his best friend tick was a very different sort of morale than his own. “I���m happy for ya, John.” he conceded, as he turned to leave, “But when you write her back -and you gotta, she’s been too kind -promise me you’ll be a gentleman about it. Apologize, like the man I know you are. Drink got the better of you, just, explain it that way.”

“Uhuh.” John gave him a sober nod, still a little dazed this wasn’t some fever dream. “Kinda already did. In the one I sent.”

“She wasn’t deterred.” Gale mused, “Either you were shit at it or she’s-“

“Zesty.” Egan deduced, sucking his teeth with a manic gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, as an orange peel.” Gale snarked and walked away, past the rows of empty beds and outside into the rain, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky fell back against his mattress, sudden peace and aloneness giving him a chance to soak it in a second time, carefully reading over it all again, savoring each quip, each earnest prayer and naughty subtext. Which naturally led him back to admiring her little picture, groaning in unrestrained appreciation for her assets. She’d hinted about him taking it to his bunk -well wasn’t he fast to obey! Something possessed him to flip it over and there in the corner of the photograph, written in tiny little script, were doodles of music notes along with the ever so familiar lyrics:

“Beat me daddy, eight to the bar.”

John threw back his head and let out a roar of appreciation for finding a mirrored soul. “Oh Julie Jean, honey baby, don’t you worry, I’ll beat out somethin’ for ya, that’s for sure.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank y’all for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, please scream at me, I thrive off it. 💋

Taglist (Lemme know in a comment below if you’d like to be added or subtracted for MOTA fics)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

[stylespresleyhearted]

the majors wife part two update

note: first I want to thank EVERY single person who likes, comments, reblogs, bothers to talk to me about it. ya’ll keep me going. it’s in the works and its gonna be a longggg one (i’m not even a quarter done) i want to do it justice for me and for all of you who have enjoyed the first part. thank you all for being patient. i am trying to get it out by next week (after that i have a family trip and i have school so schedule is gonna be crazy) so i really do want it out by then. for now i figured i can share a little tiny tiny two part snippet ♥️

part one here

warnings: pre-war bucky, flashback, fear of drowning

let me come home

“If I hadn’t been here —” his voice chokes, his fingers gripping her waist. She wonders how she missed it before when he was looking at her, how she didn’t see the worry. In the pull of his eyebrows. The tears lay unshed in his eyes. “You’re learning to swim,” he said, resolute.

“Okay.” Lila doesn’t have it in her to fight him. Not when he’s like this, fearful and holding onto her. She wouldn’t deny him anything. Her hand comes to clutch at his cheek, feeling the stubble growing there.

[mccall-muffin]

The Lady and the Major - Part 1/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Major Bucky Egan is on leave in London, and what else is there to do than to drink, sing, have a good time, and... of course, ladies. But then he meets Liz, a Lady of the Court, and Bucky is immediately entangled in her net.

Warnings: Language, teasing, use of alcohol - soldiers being soldiers

A/N: Okay, wow... I thought today: "Uh, I have an idea for a OneShot with Bucky Egan," and now I'm sitting here with a three-part story. Jeeeeeez... Uh, but what you gonna do. (I've only seen the first two Episodes of MotA as of now, but... I just love Callum)

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @mads-weasley, @brassknucklespeirs, @softguarnere

(Sorry mates, you just have to be tagged ;))

The Ritz, London, 1943

The opulent bar of the Ritz in London, brimming with the raucous laughter and chatter of soldiers on leave. The air is thick with smoke, jazz music fills the background, and the atmosphere is charged with the night's excitement.

Major John "Bucky" Egan, surrounded by a rowdy group of fellow American soldiers, is the life of the party. His laughter is loudest, his stories the most captivating, and his gaze roams freely, appreciative of the scenery—particularly the women who add a touch of glamour to the smoky room.

Bucky, with a glass of whiskey in hand, leans back, surveying the room with a smug grin. "Gentlemen," he boasts, "London's no match for a Yank with charm. Watch and learn."

His eyes, however, catch a sight that stops him mid-sentence—a vision of elegance seated across the bar. Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, unbeknownst to him, sits alone, her posture the epitome of grace, a long, slender cigarette holder elegantly poised in her hand. The soft glow of the bar lights catches her blonde hair and the sparkle in her blue eyes, making her seem almost ethereal.

Bucky's usual confidence wavers for a moment, his friends noticing the sudden change. "Well, I'll be damned... Who's that?" Bucky mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

One of the British soldiers, a man who has seen his fair share of high society, leans over, a knowing look in his eyes. "That, Yank, is Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. The Duke of Wellington's daughter. I'd tread carefully if I were you. She's out of your league."

Bucky's grin returns, cockier than before. "Out of my league? Buddy, there's no league I can't play in. Watch me."

With a swagger in his step, Bucky makes his way over to Elizabeth, his comrades watching eagerly, some with admiration, others with skepticism, and some with knowing faces.

"Evening, miss. Can I say you light up this room brighter than the London Blitz," he says cockily, letting his charm play.

Elizabeth doesn't even glance up from her drink at first, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. When she finally turns her gaze towards him, it's with an air of amusement. "And can I say that's the most American pickup line I've ever heard?"

Bucky, undeterred, flashes a grin. "Major John Egan, at your service. But for you... You can call me Bucky. And you are?"

Elizabeth finally offers him a small, knowing smile. "Elizabeth Cavendish. And I'm quite aware of who you are, Major Egan. Your reputation precedes you."

Bucky, leaning against the bar closer to Liz, his confidence seemingly unshaken. "Is that so? And what have you heard?"

Liz, taking another slow drag from her cigarette, eyes Bucky with a mixture of interest and challenge. "Oh, just that you're quite the charmer. A real ladies' man. Or so you believe."

The air between them crackles with a mix of tension and intrigue. Bucky, for once, finds himself having to work to maintain his usual smug demeanor. "And what about you, Lady Elizabeth? Do you enjoy games?"

Liz's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, Major, I don't just enjoy them. I excel at them. Care to play?"

The challenge hangs in the air, a silent dare that Bucky, despite the warnings and his better judgment, finds himself unable to resist. "You're on. Let the games begin."

As Bucky signals the bartender for another round of drinks, his fellow soldiers exchange glances, some shaking their heads, others betting amongst themselves on the outcome. What none of them realize is that in the game of seduction and wit, Liz is a master strategist, and Bucky might have just met his match.

Bucky leans closer, his confidence unwavering. "So, Liz, you don't mind me calling you Liz, right?" he starts, the smug smile never leaving his face, "I've flown some of the most dangerous missions over Germany, you know. But I must say, navigating this conversation with you feels like my most thrilling challenge yet."

Liz lets out a soft, amused laugh. "Major Egan, I've met many men who believe their war stories could sweep a girl off her feet. And maybe it actually does some. But it's going to take more than tales of aerial feats to impress me," she replies, her voice laced with a teasing sarcasm that only someone of her breeding and wit could perfect.

The night progresses, and with each drink, Bucky becomes more audacious, his hand finding its way to the small of Liz's back, a bold move that, in any other circumstance, would have guaranteed success. Liz, however, is not any woman he's encountered before. She plays along, leaning in as if captivated by his charm, her lips tantalizingly close to his, only to pull away at the last moment, leaving him wanting more.

Their conversation ebbs and flows, with Bucky regaling her with his exploits, each tale more daring than the last. Yet, Liz remains unimpressed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement rather than awe. It's a dance they're both familiar with, but in this instance, Liz leads, her every move calculated to keep him on his toes.

As the night wears on, Liz finishes her drink, placing the glass delicately on the bar. She rises from her stool, the movement graceful and deliberate. "Well, Major, it has been... interesting," she says, her tone implying a myriad of things left unsaid.

Bucky, taken aback by her sudden desire to leave, scrambles to his feet. "Wait, Liz, why don't you stay for another drink? The night is still young, and I feel we've barely scratched the surface."

Liz turns to him, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I'm afraid I have other engagements to attend to, Major. But I must thank you for the entertainment," she teases, her gaze piercing through him with a challenge that silently says she's not one to be easily conquered.

As she walks away, Bucky watches, a mix of frustration and fascination written across his face. For the first time, he's encountered a woman who not only matches his wit but exceeds it, leaving him in uncharted territory. Liz, with her aristocratic poise and undeniable charm, has turned the tables on him, making it clear that if he wishes to pursue her, he's in for a game unlike any he's played before.

Returning to his comrades, Bucky's expression is a mix of irritation and resolve, a stark contrast to the confident swagger he had before approaching Liz. The British soldiers, having observed the entire exchange, can't help but wear smirks of "told you so" on their faces.

"Well, Major, looks like the ice queen has claimed another victim," one of the Brits comments, clapping Bucky on the shoulder with a laugh that's both sympathetic and mocking.

Bucky, undeterred, shoots back, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Another British soldier chimes in, swirling his drink, "Mate, many have tried to climb that mountain. From viscounts to earls, not a single one has reached the summit. Lady Cavendish is... well, she's a fortress."

"Yeah, heard she loves to make sport of men, seeing who can try and fail the most spectacularly," adds a third, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and warning.

One of Bucky's American friends, attempting to find a solution, suggests, "Did you pull the pilot card? Chicks love pilots." The suggestion hangs in the air until another British soldier, who had been quietly listening, interjects, "Her brother's Captain Edward Cavendish, Royal Air Force war hero. Your pilot card might as well be a library card."

The revelation doesn't dampen Bucky's spirits; if anything, it fuels his determination. His jaw sets firmly, the challenge now more personal than ever. "So, she's used to high-flyers, huh? Well, she hasn't met anyone like me. I'm not just any pilot; I'm Major Bucky Egan. And I don't give up that easily."

The group looks at him, a mix of skepticism and intrigue in their eyes. They know Bucky for his tenacity, his charm, and his unwillingness to back down from a challenge. But Lady Elizabeth Cavendish is not just any challenge—she's a high-stakes game that many have lost.

As the night winds down and the group disperses, Bucky's mind races with plans. He knows winning over someone like Lady Cavendish won't be easy, but he's always loved a challenge. The thought of her, with her piercing blue eyes and that untouchable aura, only makes him more determined. He's ready to prove that he's not like the others, that he's someone who stands out, even in a crowd of heroes.

The stage is set for a captivating game of wit, charm, and strategy. Bucky's resolve and Liz's cunning promise a tale of intrigue, where each move could either draw them closer or push them further apart.

In the soft morning light filtering through the hotel's dining room windows, Bucky and his fellow soldiers are halfway through their breakfast, the air filled with the light-hearted banter typical of men who've faced much together. The sudden approach of a concierge, bearing the unmistakable posture of formal importance, silences the table. With a discreet cough to announce his presence, the concierge presents a silver platter to Bucky.

Bucky, eyebrows raised in surprise, picks up the envelope resting on the platter. The envelope itself is a work of art, the calligraphy on the front flawlessly executed, hinting at the significance of its contents. His name, "Major John Egan, US Air Force," is inscribed with elegant flourishes that speak of a bygone era of meticulous attention to detail.

As he carefully opens the envelope, the anticipation among his comrades is palpable. They watch as Bucky's initial confusion shifts to an understanding smile, a silent acknowledgment of the ongoing saga that had captivated them since last night. He pulls out the invitation, and it reads:

Major John Egan,

It is with great pleasure that Arthur Cavendish, Duke of Wellington, and Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Wellington, extend to you an invitation to a gala being held at our family estate, Wellington House, on the evening of this day.

This event will assemble distinguished individuals from various sectors of British and Allied societies in a celebration of unity and resilience in these challenging times.

Date: This evening at 7 o'clock post meridiem

Dress Code: Formal (Black Tie)

Location: Wellington House, Kent

We anticipate the honor of your presence and look forward to an evening of meaningful exchanges and spirited fellowship.

Kindly present this invitation at the entrance.

Sincerely, The Duke of Wellington

Bucky's grin now spread wide across his face, confirms the unspoken thoughts of his table. "Looks like I've got plans this evening," he announces, his voice a mix of amusement and intrigue.

The soldiers around him, well aware of the story behind the invitation, erupt into a mix of cheers and playful jeers. Bucky's encounter with Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, a tale that had quickly become legendary among them, was evidently far from over. This invitation was not just a call to a social event; it was the next chapter in a story that promised to be as unpredictable as it was entertaining.

As the concierge departs, Bucky's mind races with possibilities. The gala at Wellington House was not just an opportunity to step into the world of British aristocracy; it was a chance to see Liz again, to engage in their game of wits and charm. With a sense of adventure stirring in his heart, he knew one thing for sure: the evening promised to be unforgettable.

House Wellington, Kent, 1943

As Bucky steps into the grandeur of the Wellington estate, the opulence of the gala immediately envelops him. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes mingling with the faint aroma of quality tobacco. The chatter of the high society fills the room, a mixture of refined British accents and the occasional foreign dialect. Bucky, in his crisply pressed formal uniform, stands out—not just for his attire but also for the aura of confidence he carries with him, an unmistakable mark of a man not easily intimidated.

He navigates through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, his eyes scanning the room until they find what they've been searching for: Liz. She's a vision in her gown, embodying the grace and elegance of her status, yet with a glimmer in her eye that hints at her spirited nature. As he approaches, he can't help but admire the way she holds herself, the center of attention yet seemingly uninterested in the adoration she commands.

"Seems like I can't go anywhere without you showing up to steal the spotlight," Bucky teases, offering her a playful smirk as he closes the distance between them.

Liz turns to face him fully, her expression one of amused defiance. "Oh, Major Egan, I was under the impression that an officer of your caliber would know how to read a simple dress code," she retorts, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she gives him a once-over. "But I suppose we can't all have the luxury of choice in our evening attire, can we?"

Bucky chuckles, unphased by her jab. "Well, Lady Cavendish, it seems I'm at a disadvantage here. While you dazzle the room in that stunning dress, I'm stuck in this old thing," he says, gesturing to his uniform with a mock sigh. "But let's be honest, we both know I could show up in a burlap sack, and you'd still find it hard to keep your eyes off me."

The air between them crackles with the tension of their banter, a dance they've both come to enjoy. Liz takes a slow drag from her cigarette, held elegantly in a long holder. "Confident, aren't we? Just don't let that confidence get you into trouble, Major. This isn't the front line, and the battles here are fought differently," she says, blowing out a stream of smoke, her gaze locked with his.

"Then consider me armed and dangerous," Bucky replies with a grin, his eyes never leaving hers. "But I'll admit, this is one battlefield I'm looking forward to navigating, especially if it means crossing swords with you, Lady Cavendish."

Their exchange, filled with the playful yet pointed jabs of two individuals equally matched in intellect and charm, sets the tone for the evening. Around them, the gala continues in its whirl of music, laughter, and conversation, but for Bucky and Liz, the rest of the world fades into the background. They are each other's focal point, engaged in a game where the stakes are undefined but unmistakably high, each moment building on the tension and attraction that simmers just below the surface.

As Bucky and Liz continue their verbal dance, the arrival of a British Captain momentarily shifts the atmosphere. The Captain's demeanor is one of polite curiosity mixed with the protective scrutiny of a brother. When he inquires about Bucky, there's a brief tension, a moment where the social games of the evening meet the reality of wartime alliances and personal connections.

Bucky, with the straightforwardness that military life has ingrained in him, extends a hand. "Major John Egan, US Air Force," he introduces himself with a respectful nod, recognizing the familial resemblance in the Captain's features.

Edward's expression warms slightly at the mention of Bucky's service. "Ah, a fellow pilot then. And where might you be stationed, Major Egan?" he asks, a hint of camaraderie entering his voice upon learning of their shared skies.

"With the 100th Bomber Group," Bucky responds, his answer earning a nod of respect from Edward. The reputation of Bucky's outfit precedes him, known even among the British ranks for their bravery and contributions to the war effort.

The conversation takes a turn when Edward's attention shifts towards his sister, curiosity piqued. "And how did you two come to meet?" he inquires, his gaze bouncing between Liz and Bucky, searching for a glimpse into his sister's enigmatic social life.

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, perhaps a little too eagerly, ready to dive into the tale of their first encounter. However, Liz, ever the master of her own narrative, interjects with a grace that belies the quick thinking behind her words. "We met at a charity event just last week," she states, her voice carrying a tone of casual innocence. "Major Egan was kind enough to share some fascinating insights into his experiences in the war so far. It's not every day we have the honor of hearing such stories firsthand."

Edward's expression softens, a mix of brotherly concern and pride evident in his gaze as he looks at Liz. It's clear he's unaware of the full extent of his sister's adventurous spirit and her propensity for finding herself in the company of intriguing characters. "Well, I'm glad to hear our allies are not just brave but also charitable. It's important, especially in times like these, to remember what we're fighting for," he comments, directing a respectful nod towards Bucky.

The moment passes, and Edward excuses himself to greet other guests, leaving Bucky and Liz alone once again. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Liz, impressed by her quick thinking and ability to weave a story that protects her reputation while not entirely dismissing their actual encounter. "A charity event, huh? You're quite the storyteller, Lady Cavendish," he teases, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

Liz, taking a delicate sip of her champagne, meets his gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "One must always be prepared to tell the story that needs to be heard, Major Egan. Besides, I couldn't possibly let you ruin all my fun with the truth, now could I?" she replies, her tone playful yet laced with the underlying thrill of their shared secret.

Their exchange, now even more charged with the thrill of their clandestine understanding, continues to weave a complex tapestry of attraction and intrigue, each moment adding to the layers of their unfolding story.

Next Part

[lostloveletters]

All You Have To Bring Is Your Love of Everything (John Egan x OC)

Summary: Don't recall what we were singin'/But I remember swingin'/With my hands caught in the curls of his hair (AO3 link)

Note: I got caught up listening to Married in Mount Airy by Nicole Dollanganger and this happened. Anyway, I really love Bucky and Holly and I enjoyed writing this a lot🖤

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content. Do not interact if you're under 18.

Holly’s wedding dress spent almost four years hiding in a dust jacket, brought out into the light as pristine as the sunny Wednesday afternoon she bought it. Set her back a hundred dollars, then, but who could put a price tag on a lifetime of love? She supposed it ended up being a good investment in the long-run rather than a starry-eyed splurge, because she was just about the only woman she knew who wasn’t getting married in her Sunday best.

The billowy cream swallowed her body, her coppery hair almost pink in the soft light of her girlhood bedroom, a dewy-eyed pastry of a woman staring back at her from the full-length mirror on the wall. A weak sigh broke from between her dry lips when she glanced at her mother, who assured her the dress could be altered to accommodate the weight she lost since she left home and hadn’t quite managed to gain back yet—if it weren’t for that, her mother would’ve assumed she was pregnant with how quickly she and Bucky were getting married since arriving in DC less than two weeks prior.

She had let Stan see her in the dress, back then. Had to show off, hear him tell her how pretty and perfect she looked. Maybe that was the beginning of the end. Bad luck to let your fiance see you in the dress before getting to the altar. Bucky didn’t mind waiting, not when they stayed up half the night in her parents’ kitchen, poring over brightly illustrated brochures for hotels that promised newlywed bliss—swimming pools, heart-shaped beds, on-site entertainment. The hotel they settled on, nestled away in the Blue Ridge Mountains, offered quiet and seclusion and charged an extra $2 per night for weekends. The manager who answered the phone when Bucky called in the morning informed him that the place was booked out for the following two weeks, and rooms were going fast. Better to make a reservation than arrive without one and find no vacancies. 

It left them with a little under a month to plan their wedding, and the list of people who couldn’t make it was longer than those who could. But Woody, her beloved best friend and maid-of-honor, would cut off her own arm to make it, with John Brady as her plus one. Gale’s RSVP had been written in Marge’s neat script, excitedly informing them they’d be in attendance. Bucky’s mother and sisters would be coming in from Wisconsin, which meant Holly would only be meeting her future in-laws the evening before she married into their family.

Every venue they called was regrettably booked up for even longer than the hotel had been. When they nearly decided to forget it and drag her parents along to the local courthouse, her father’s supervisor offered to let them use his house’s sprawling backyard in Arlington for the occasion if they ordered the wedding cake from his daughter-in-law, who was trying to get a bakery off the ground.

Her parents scrounged up tables and chairs for the guests, borrowing mismatched card tables and folding chairs from neighbors and relatives. Half of the decorations had been sitting in boxes for about as long as Holly’s dress had been in her closet. Having spent the better part of four years itching to decorate for her daughter’s wedding and absolutely taken with her future son-in-law, Cathy Dean took it upon herself to transform the unassuming backyard into a proper venue while they applied for their marriage license and Holly filed for a name change—Holly Dean Egan on her driver’s license, her social security card, her passport.

But wedding planning with Bucky was breezy otherwise, “I’d marry you on the side of the road,” he had said, and she knew he meant it despite the laughter in his voice, the corners of his eyes scrunching at his own joke. She almost couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to have him love her so much. Up until the day of the wedding, she expected some other shoe to drop, that she’d never get the happy ending she so desperately wanted, the one they deserved after everything.

The hazy evening with its peachy sky felt too much like a dream for her comfort, and when her father was supposed to walk her down the aisle, makeshift but nevertheless beautiful with her mother’s creative touch, she ran—her bouquet of Tiffany roses discarded on the ground as she bounded toward Bucky until he was within reach. She threw her arms around him, carding her fingers through his curls, her nose brushing one of the Oak Leaves on his collar. His soft reassurances drowned out the shocked and amused murmurs of the guests behind them.

With his steady hands on her waist, he pressed his lips against her forehead, holding her close until the officiant cleared his throat. Every vow, every promise they could have possibly given each other had already been said upon their reunion in England, and Holly couldn’t manage much more than “I do” through her tears when it was her turn to speak.

She hated crying, in general, but especially in front of other people. The pads of Bucky’s thumbs brushed her tears away before he kissed her, their first as a married couple, his lips soft against hers. She lifted a trembling hand to cradle his jaw, allowing herself to bask in his tenderness for a few more moments before pulling away to the gentle applause of their wedding guests.

The contingent of guests who’d been at Thorpe Abbotts with them were the life of the party—rowdy and excitable, as Holly and Bucky were among the first of them to get married and actually have a reception afterward. His mother covered half the cost of hiring a band for three hours, who were told by the best man that under no circumstances should they let the groom sing, but Bucky wouldn’t let himself be denied the pleasure on his wedding day, dedicating a warbled yet enthusiastic serenade to Holly, who blushed and giggled as if he were Frank Sinatra.

The two-tier strawberry shortcake towered over everything else on the head table when it was brought out—generous puffs of vanilla frosting and strawberries shaped into blossoming flowers that looked too beautiful to eat. Holly almost felt bad when Bucky cut into it, until he fed her a forkful of the spongy cake, its icing turned baby pink from the strawberry jam oozing between the layers.

Before she could wipe the excess frosting from her mouth, he leaned in for a kiss—passionate and sweet and so uniquely him, she’d know it with her eyes closed. His tongue brushed against her lips, so teasingly that she nearly retreated for decency until she remembered he was her husband—her husband, and she loved the way the mere whisper of the word felt, the promise it carried, till death do them part and even beyond it, she didn’t care how many people were watching them.

“I love you,” her voice a pleasant hum.

He kissed her again. “I love you too.”

As the sky grew darker, the paper lanterns her mother had hung from the branches of the big, shady trees lent a soft, starry glow to the reception as guests slowly filtered out, leaving Bucky and Holly with hugs and well-wishes. The band packed up around eight, signaling the end of the celebration for the dozen or so people who lingered. 

They rushed inside to change out of their wedding attire before the drive, their suitcases already in her father’s car which he was letting them borrow for the week as a wedding gift. That much was specified on the invitations—no gifts—but a few guests took it upon themselves to slip them envelopes when they thought no one else was looking.  

A little over two hours to the hotel, just outside of Shenandoah, if they didn’t stop. Bucky had scrawled the details of their reservation on the back of the brochure—who he’d spoken to, the length of their stay, what type of room they’d be staying in.

“Why’s this circled?” she asked. “The ‘Honeymoon Deluxe’?”

“That’s what I got us.”

Her eyes widened—an extra $20 on top of the cost of the hotel for the week. It included a dizzying list of offerings and amenities: a bottle of champagne, a chocolate-covered fruit platter, room service, and since the pool was closed for the season, two complimentary drinks for each of them in the cocktail lounge for every night of their stay. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did. You’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“You were worth waiting for, every second.”

He reached over, intertwining their fingers, the gentle scrape of their wedding bands against each other as he brought her hand to his lips.

The car radio played low, and every now and then, when there was a lull in conversation, she’d look out the window at the blur of dark trees and road signs and let her mind wander.

‘I’ll have to ask my husband,’ she’d say when she returned home. Or even at the hotel, where she figured they’d be the most charming couple there, surely they’d get invited to have drinks, but ‘Me and my husband already have plans.’

My husband. My husband. My husband.

Bright red, neon-kissed letters proclaimed from the roadside, ‘Love Lives Here!’ as Bucky pulled into one of the parking spots in front of the lobby. A sign in the window indicated there was someone on duty behind the desk.

“Can I help you?”

Bucky smiled, squeezing Holly against his side, “Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. John Egan.” 

Holly’s stomach flipped. It sounded so natural the way he said their names together, for her to be so intimately part of him.

The night manager looked down at the ledger in front of him, grunting in affirmation before sliding it across the counter to Bucky. “Sign here.”

Bucky and Holly exchanged a glance before he picked up the pen to sign his name next to the reservation.

“You want two sets of room keys?”

“Yes, please,” Holly said.

“There’s a fee if you lose ‘em.”

Bucky slid the ledger back over, his jaw clenched, giving his smile a disconcerting edge. “Then we won’t lose ‘em.” He took the keys and a matchbook. “Is there anything else?” 

“Your room’s on the other side of the building, so you should move your car over there.”

“Thanks, have a good night.”

“Sure, you too.”

“Some hospitality,” Bucky mumbled when they got outside. He pulled a loose cigarette from his shirt pocket, lighting it with one of the matches, housed inside the small red matchbook with the hotel’s name in a heart. “I mean, not even a ‘congratulations’?”

“Maybe the daytime people are nicer,” she said.

“Don’t plan on finding out so soon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I’m gonna make sure you’re sick of the wallpaper before we even think about leaving that room.”

“Promise?”

“As your husband,” he said, emphasizing the word with a kiss, “I promise.”

“As your wife, I’d like to see the room now.”

The entrance on the other side of the hotel was next to the closed pool, which Holly glanced at it for a wistful moment while Bucky brought their suitcases inside. A quick elevator ride up, then a left down a dimly lit hallway that smelled of snuffed out cigarettes and fresh roses until they reached room 348.

“Here we are, heaven on earth,” he said with a wink.

He unlocked the door to reveal the room, as if they’d been transported to a perfumed, powder blue Neptune—save for a clear vase packed with pink roses on the table in the corner, next to a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and an empty ice bucket. On this planet of their own, an exorbitant cost for a corner of the universe, he lifted her off of her feet to set her on the edge of the bed, her weight creasing the neat satin bedspread. 

Each article of clothing removed, each part of her body exposed to their honeymoon suite was welcomed with the caress of his fingertips, his mustache tickling ever so slightly as he brushed his lips against her bare skin, taking his time with her as if she wouldn’t go insane in the eternity he seemed to take before finally undressing himself. 

She tugged at the pin holding up what was left of her bridal hairdo, throwing it aside with misplaced aggression.

‘Something wild,’ he had called her the first time he saw her curly, unstyled hair cascade over her bare shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She didn’t deny it, not when she could finally feel her heart beating behind her rib cage again, brought back to life like a cheap imitation of Snow White the first time they made love. 

She could have lived on the heat in his eyes as he stared her down, filling her with a lycanthropic urge to mark, to maim, to devour. His pulse thrummed beneath her tongue until she sank her teeth into his neck, soft like saltwater taffy in her sun-bleached summer memories—not hard enough to break skin, but to pull a syrupy moan from his throat that she could practically taste on her greedy lips.

Her need achingly difficult to ignore between her legs, she steadied herself, hands splayed across his chest as it rose and fell beneath her manicured nails, the ring that caught the low light in the room. Straddling his hips, she reached for his cock, stroking it until he begged for her with a whine that rang in her ears more sweetly than if the wedding bells had chimed for them. 

Guiding him inside her, she trembled at how he filled her, close to too much but never enough. She wanted all of him, slow and deep and completely hers with an intensity that made it all flash behind her eyes as she rode him—pictured herself there so clearly, certain he’d give her rosy cheeks and a round belly and a big window to see powder blue out of while his hands squeezed her tender breasts on their way to her hips.

His thighs tensed against her own. He groaned her name in worship and warning before coming inside her, and the sight of his parted lips, his eyelids fluttering shut in ecstasy, made her guts twist at how deliciously obscene her husband could be. Her husband. Her breath caught in her throat as she came with a cry, throwing her head back, digging her nails into his chest because he was hers. All hers.

[major-mads]

Chapter 7: Lucky 25

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

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

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 11k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“He will.”

One Week Earlier: September 10: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base

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

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

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

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

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

‘I do,’ the younger man thought.

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

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

“I don’t know, Buck.”

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

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

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

“Just try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Egan was in love.

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

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

“That how you feel about Hope?”

“Yeah, it is.”

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

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

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

“We said we’d take it slow.”

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

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

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

“Should I get used to this new Buck?”

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

1900 HRS: 7 PM 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m so glad you did.”

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

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

“So I need to worry about the WACs?”

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

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

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

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

“Just you.”

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

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

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

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

“But it’s my job to bother Buck.”

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

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

“You’re terrible.”

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

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

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

Buck was good at dancing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gale shrugged as he hid a smirk behind his glass of ginger beer. “I don’t know why LeMay thought both of us were responsible for the ‘raunchy discipline’ on base.”

“So you’re sayin’ it was just me?” John asked with an incredulous grin.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I mean,” Benny started, trying to hold in a laugh as he rubbed Meatball’s head affectionately. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck tear up a bar with a narwhal tusk.”

Laughter erupted like a sudden burst of fireworks around the table, echoing around the lively room and drowning out the music. 

Narrowing his eyes at them, John pointed around the table.  “Technically, none of you dodos saw any of that!”

“We didn’t have to. We saw the aftermath,” Brady called out through his chuckles.

After a few moments, the laughter died down, and the large group broke into smaller conversations. 

Gale spoke quietly to Benny as Hope whispered with Hugh, and Ruth listened as Jack shared more stories of John’s escapades back in the States. Before long, the two majors went at it as they often did, but Ruth’s attention was drawn away by Hugh and Hope slinking away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

‘This outta be good,’ she thought.

When the band slowly faded out, Ruth smirked, knowing what was most likely coming. She peered over at Gale, expecting him to be watching Hope, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Benny and didn’t seem to notice his fiancée’s absence from the seat beside him. 

The band thrummed to life, music springing out across the room in a less-than-subtle fashion that had all heads turning toward the siblings. Then Gale’s eyes found Hope’s across the room and he did a double take, glancing back at her empty chair in confusion. 

Ruth pointed at siblings, a wide smile painting her face as she whispered in John’s ear. “This is gonna be interesting. They both can sing.”

“Sparky? No way,” he griped with a grimace. “No way he’s got better pipes than me.”

Giggling, she patted his cheek lightly and turned back to the stage. “Just wait and see, hon.”

Hugh took his place in front of the microphone, encouraging Hope to do the same as he pressed his lips near the cool metal grille. The conductor gave them the queue, and she took a deep breath before singing into the microphone.

“One of our planes was missing, two hours overdue. 

Yes, one of our planes was missing with all its gallant crew,

The radio sets were hummin', they waited for the word,

Then a voice broke through that hummin',

And this is what they heard!”

The song, rather aptly chosen by Hugh for Dye’s 25th mission, began to flow easily. Hugh joined in, belting out,

“Comin' in on a wing and a prayer!”

The second Hugh’s voice rang through the speakers, the skeptical smirk on John’s lips fell, and he raised a brow at Ruth, who just rolled her eyes at his reaction.

“I told you he was good.”

“I never said he was good,” he defended.

The corners of the blonde’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “You didn’t have to.”

Around them, some of the crowd began to join in, all looking at Dye whose cheeks were growing redder by the minute as he stood beside Lil, trying to shield his face. 

“What a show (What a show),

What a fight (What a fight).”

The instrumental section began to play, and the couple watched as Hugh took Hope’s arm and spun her around in quick concession. A wide grin spread on Ruth’s face that matched her best friend’s on stage. 

With her eyes glued on Hope, Ruth started to sing along. Her voice was slightly off-key, but she didn’t care, continuing to sing quietly where only John could hear. The man couldn’t look away from her smiling face as she sang. His gaze wandered over her face with a gentle intensity, watching how her lips moved, the slight quirk of her smile adding to her already breathtaking look.

“Yes, we really hit our target for tonight,

How we’ll sing as we limp through the air,

Look below, there’s a field over there.”

Ruth’s eyes flickered over to John and caught his gaze. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and she noticed the same vulnerable glint in his eyes as the night he told her of his past. She offered him a questioning look, silently asking what was on his mind.

Johnny’s mind raced as his lips parted slightly. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he sent her a small, reassuring smile and barely shook his head as if to say, ‘nothing.’

There was something in his eyes that Ruth couldn’t quite put it into words, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless. With a soft nod, she turned her attention back to the stage, her hand reaching for John’s beneath the table, intertwining their fingers gently.

The Major’s heart sank as Ruth turned away, his own hand squeezing hers softly in response. He cursed himself silently for his inability to tell her how he felt, and frustration bubbled up within him.

How many more opportunities would he let slip away without telling her the truth?

“With our full crew aboard,

And our trust in the Lord,

Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.”

As the song came to a close, Hugh wrapped his arms around his sister, squeezing her hard before grasping her hand and pulling her down from the stage. Hope hopped down the best she could, ignoring the small ripping noise from her skirt that would surely be a problem later. Hugh had a little skip in his step as they made their way back to the table.

Hugh threw himself down into his chair, downing the last of his whiskey, while Hope took her seat beside Gale, his face still in awe and his lips turned upwards into the largest smile.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” He mumbled softly, kissing her cheek, letting the rough stubble on his chin graze against Hope’s cheek. 

She squirmed, laughing lightly, “Oh only about every hour that I’m on base and in every letter.”

“Good,” he mused, kissing her cheek once more, “Because you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…” Gale was broken off by Bucky’s loud declaration. 

“What the hell was that, Sparky?” John asked with a mischievous grin, his eyebrows raised at Hugh. 

Scoffing as he settled into his chair, the lieutenant rolled his eyes. “I sounded a helluva lot better than you ever have…Isn’t that right, Croz?”

Harry’s expression dropped, his eyes widening nervously as he darted glances between Hugh and his Squadron CO, who sported a smirk and an eyebrow raised expectantly. “Uhhhhh…”

Ruth was in the middle of sipping her when the comment left Hugh’s lips, and she choked on the liquid, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she coughed, trying to regain her composure. Immediately, John’s hand on her chair moved to rub her back as he ducked to check on her, the rest of the table turning their attention to the pair. Before he could speak, she waved him off with a sheepish smile, finally managing to swallow. 

“Sorry about that,” she rasped, wiping at her eyes. “I’m alright…please continue.”

Looking around the group, Ruth met Hope’s concerned gaze and sent her a teary grin, her pale face splotchy as she caught her breath.

“Where was I?”

Bubbles chuckled under his breath before sending Hugh a smirk. “You were complimenting Bucky’s singing abilities.”

“Right! I-”

“Everyone look here!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded the group as Captain John Schwarz, the 100th’s photographer, stepped forward with his camera in hand. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s get a good one!” he called out cheerfully, adjusting the settings on his camera.

The group quickly turned toward him, and Ruth managed to put on a bright smile for the photo despite still trying to clear her throat. They all posed in their seats, and John’s arm draped casually over the blonde’s chair, her hand resting on his knee as she leaned into him.

With the click of the camera, the Captain took the picture, but before he could step back, John called out to him with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, Schwarz. Mind getting a picture of just the two of us?”

He nodded enthusiastically, adjusting the camera to focus on the couple. Bucky flashed a charming smile as he reached over and gently tugged Ruth from her chair into his lap.

“Hey!” she protested playfully, her cheeks flushing pink as John wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

Ruth giggled as Johnny leaned in, his cheek pressing against hers as they posed for the picture. Despite her initial protest, she found herself melting into his embrace. The photographer chuckled at their antics, capturing the moment with a few clicks of his camera. She glanced up at the Major just as Schwarz lowered his camera, and Bucky planted a soft kiss on her lips.

The table erupted into a chorus of whistles and hoots, their friends cheering them on as they kissed. Ruth laughed against John’s lips, feeling a rush of happiness and warmth enveloping her. Pulling back slightly, John gazed into her blue eyes, his own filled with pure adoration as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. 

“Alright, lovebirds. That’s enough,” Gale grinned, repeating Bucky’s words from a few minutes before. 

Schwarz moved around the table, snapping a photo of Demarco and Meatball, Hugh with poor Harry in a headlock, until he moved around to Hope and Gale. Buck stood up, leading Hope slightly away from the table, and wrapping his arms around her from behind kissing her temple. Hope grinned widely at the photographer who snapped the picture with his own smile.

Hugh appeared beside the Captain, mumbling something under his breath before moving over to the couple. 

“Could I please borrow my sister, Cleven?”

Gale looked a little forlorn as he released Hope from his embrace, stepping back towards the table. Hugh pulled his sister into his side, a bright smile on his lips as Schwarz took the photo. 

Back at the table, Hope slipped into her seat beside Gale, his arm draping over her shoulder as they got comfortable. Ruth sent her a bright smile from her position on John’s lap, and soon the group’s conversation picked back up, laughter filling the air once more. This continued for a little while longer, but when Dye made his way over with Lil under his arm, there was a shift in the air.

It was almost unnoticeable at first.

Ruth chuckled under her breath, watching John take a drag of his cigarette across the table and point to Dye as he neared the group. “There’s our very own Charlie Robertson!”

She’d moved back to her own chair when he got up to get her another ginger beer. Ruth learned her lesson with alcohol after waking up with a raging migraine the morning following John’s birthday party.

“Charlie? Who’s Charlie?” Lil asked, trailing behind Glen and smiling at John as she passed him on his way back to Ruth.

“Not me,” Hugh snickered, sipping his whiskey with a grimace. The British liquor was nothing compared to the ‘good ole American stuff,’ as he called it. In his footlocker sat an unopened bottle of VAT-69 he was saving for his own 25th mission.

No one else thought anything was wrong with the alcohol, but Hugh just had his particular taste and he stuck to that.

“1922. White Sox at Tigers. No runs, no hits, no errors,” John answered, his hand gesturing in the air with each word before sinking into the chair beside Ruth. He kissed her on the cheek quickly, scooting his seat closer to her until their shoulders touched and she wrapped her arm around his bicep, whispering into his ear.

“He threw the last perfect game, right?”

“Sure did,”  he grinned, shooting her a wink. “Way to go, Slugger.”

Benny nodded from beside Hope and Gale, not having heard the blonde. “Yeah, he’s the last guy to throw a perfect game.”

“Til’ now!”

“You get to go home before Florida?” Jack asked, but the conversation soon Ruth faded as she turned her gaze to John with a fond smile. She traced the outline of his face, her eyes trailing over the dark pink scars from Regensburg, the slope of his nose, his mustache, and the natural pout of his lips…the soft lips she’d kissed dozens of times. The warmth of his touch seeped through her uniform, and a feeling of contentment washed over her. 

Over the last week, the couple exchanged multiple letters corresponding about the party and how each was doing, but John mainly raved about how much he liked his birthday present. 

‘Doll, I think I’m hooked…’ John wrote two days after the party.

She was broken from her inner dialogue when the toothy grin on John’s face suddenly fell, and Ruth’s heart jolted in concern as she became aware of the hush that fell over the group

“We’re all that’s left, aren’t we?” 

At Glen’s question, her eyes quickly scanned those around them and found that all the airmen shared the same pained and exhausted look. Curt’s smiling face flashed in her mind…a reminder of the sacrifices of the heroes from the 100th. 

Hope’s wandering eyes met Ruth’s across the table, and she sent her a weary frown at the way the lively men quieted, each lost in their thoughts. 

Blakely spoke first, breaking the silence that fell over the group “12 crews out of-”

“35 that flew in from Greenland,” Crank finished.

With his lips in a tight line, Bucky nodded solemnly. “That’s right.”

Ruth reached out, her free hand finding John’s atop his chair’s armrest, squeezing it gently. He didn’t meet her gaze, but she felt him deflate slightly beside her just before Gale began to speak.

“We’re just happy for you, Dye.”

“That’s right. We are,” John added, his voice deepening as he raised his glass. “Very happy for you. Very happy.”

Glen held out his drink to the group. “And to all the fellas that aren’t here tonight, who should’ve been.”

The table broke out into quiet mumbles of agreement as they all lifted their glasses in a toast before tipping them back. Ruth’s ginger beer fizzed as it traveled down her throat, and beside her, John downed the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, unfazed. She watched him stare at the tabletop in front of them for a few seconds until Dye’s voice filled the air.

“Gentlemen…and ladies, I’m gonna go check on the boys, make sure they aren’t celebrating too hard without me.”

As he walked away with Lil tugged against his side, John’s eyes followed them and he pointed in their direction, muttering, “Charlie Robertson,” under his breath.

The jovial atmosphere from before shattered as the group remained quiet despite the raging party around them. And to think…John’s day had started off so well, had gone off without a hitch until that very moment.

He got to see Ruth, and Dye made it back from his 25th Mission, but as Bucky leaned back in his chair, he couldn’t help but be bothered by all the new faces and the lack of old ones.

Even Ruth’s presence beside him wasn’t enough to quell the rising anger and frustration that swirled in his stomach when he thought of the numbers. 

Out of 35 crews that flew in from Greenland, only 12 remained. 

120 men out of 350…230 gone in the matter of a few months. 

‘Will we all just be another number? Another crew marked off the list until replacements come and fill the huts like we never existed in the first place?’ 

These questions floated in his mind while his gaze stayed on the empty glass in front of him. “I’m, uh, gonna get another drink. I’ll be back,” he announced quickly, rising from his chair and turning toward the bar. Ruth’s anxious eyes followed him before she glanced back at Hope.

Buck watched him go with a pang of concern and kissed Hope on the temple, promising his return before he got up and followed after his friend. The women shared a knowing look as they watched the men they loved disappear into the crowd. Seemingly following their Majors, the rest of the men got up and trailed after them a few minutes later, leaving Hope and Ruth alone at the table.

“I’m worried,” Ruth muttered, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “What happens if John or Gale don’t make it back one-”

Hope cut her off quickly and moved to sit beside her.  “Hey. They’re going to be fine, Rue. Before long, we’re gonna be celebrating their 25th mission, alright?”

“Alright,” she whispered as her gaze fell to the table.

The dance floor cleared over the next few minutes, and just a few couples remained dancing. In the middle of the floor was Helen, wrapped up in the arms of an airman they’d never seen before. Wide grins grew on their faces as they watched her place a few kisses against the dark-headed stranger’s jawline. Over his shoulder, Helen’s eyes wandered to the two women sitting alone, and Ruth smiled, giving her a thumbs up as Hope winked at her.

Feeling someone’s gaze on her, Hope scanned the room, meeting the familiar but concerned blues of Gale across the room from where he leaned against the bar beside John. They talked to yet another new airman the girls had never met, but even she could see the grimace on Bucky’s face as he leaned closer to the man, gesturing his hands out.

She glanced over at Ruth who thankfully was too busy tidying up the mess the men left before returning her eyes to her fiancée. In the few seconds she’d looked away, the replacement airman disappeared, and the two Majors stood alone.

“Come on, Rue. Let’s rejoin the party, shall we?” Hope asked, rising to her feet and offering Ruth her hand with a forced smile.

She knew something was up with John. She could tell by Gale’s body language alone.

The blonde took her hand, allowing Hope to lead them towards the men. But just as they passed Helen and the dancing soldier, Colonel Harding and Major Bowman stepped through the doors and sauntered over the bar, a fat cigar hanging from Chick’s lips. 

“My boys!”

Not wanting to interrupt, the women stood on the outskirts of the group, moving to stand beside Tatty, even though both Buck and Johnny sent them a questioning look. Ruth scanned Bucky’s face, but her smile fell when she immediately noticed the line between his brows and the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Listen up! I just had a mood-killing conversation with Doc Stover. He thinks you sissies could be getting flack happy.”

“No, not us, sir,” the airmen chorused.

“I told him war is war. The longer you go at it, the more it screws a man up. And it’s been that way since the first caveman son of a bitch picked up a club and went after the other. Did cavemen go for head-shrinking?”

As the men shook their heads, Ruth and Hope shared a wary glance. 

Where was this going?

“No! Damn sure not! What counts is that you soldiers show up ready and able to fight. What you do between battles…” Harding trailed off with a chuckle, smirking as he took a drag of his cigar.

Hope watched as Buck remained stoic, no reaction on his face, but John looked over at Ruth, sending her a wink. “I like your style, sir!”

For the first time, Bucky’s wink didn’t make her heart skip a beat…it made it drop into her stomach. His grin was so clearly forced that her mind went haywire, and he was the only thing she could focus on. Sensing the blonde finally picked up on John’s demeanor, Hope silently intertwined their hands, squeezing Ruth’s reassuringly.

Red broke his silence, shaking his head slightly as he spoke. “Aerial combat like this hasn’t been around since the caveman, sir.”

“Of course not, Red. Every war has its novelties,” Harding dismissed the Major, turning to look at the dance hall. A few seconds later, his demeanor changed, and his voice grew serious. “Who the hell decorated this fiesta?”

Everyone looked around the group before Jack hesitantly spoke. “I put together a committee, sir.”

Craning their heads to see around the Colonel, the women confusedly searched the hall for what he possibly could be upset about, but had no such luck.

“The damned plane looks like it’s in a nosedive.”

The sound of chuckles filled the air as John grinned over at Ruth. “Fire ‘em. Fire the committee…Ruth can decorate next time.”

She did her best to smile back at him, but it was just as forced as the grin on his lips.

“I won’t bother next time,” Kidd muttered.

Harding seemed to move on and faced the men again, waving them all closer. “Come on, get in. Come here. Got something to tell ‘ya.”

Hope and Ruth stepped forward, watching the Colonel over Tatty’s shoulder, their eyes moving between their Majors and the CO. 

“You know how we could end this whole thing tonight?” Chick asked, his face scrunched into a half-grimace as he leaned into the group. “We fill up one of our forts with as many 500-pounders as she can hold, we bomb the hell out of Hitler’s hidey-hole.”

The grin on Johnny’s face fell, and he tilted his face to the floor with slightly pursed lips for a moment before returning his gaze to Harding. His forced smiles and strained banter only added to the underlying tension in the room. Ruth’s fingers tightened around Hope’s hand, seeking reassurance as Chick continued.

“I’m sure Red and Bubbles could locate that mustachioed little fucker.”

Bubbles grinned proudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, now who’s flack happy?”

The second the words left John’s mouth, Ruth’s heart plummeted, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She held her breath waiting for what would happen next.

What happened in the last few minutes to change his attitude completely?

All the officer’s went silent, shooting each other worried looks while Bucky and Harding stared at each other.

“Who?”

“You are,” John nodded, his expression bearing no trace of any amusement.

Harding smirked, “You are.”

��No, you are,” Egan leaned forward, thwacking Harding’s chest with his hand. “Sir.” 

The next few seconds seemed to stretch on for hours as the atmosphere became even more tense, the room seeming to hold its breath. Gale quickly glanced over at Hope, his eyes filled with concern, much like the rest of the officers. The blonde beside her didn’t notice Buck, unable to tear her eyes away from John, who looked like he was teetering on the edge of an outburst.

The Major and the Colonel stared at each other until a smirk broke out on Chick’s face and he chuckled, the rest of the group following suit when the tension eased.

“Mmm, Single fillies. Come on, boys. Let’s get the lead out!” Harding smirked, taking a drag from his cigar, and left the party with Red trailing behind him.

The officers dispersed out onto the dance floor, leaving John, Gale, Hope, Ruth, and Benny at the bar. 

Gale turned to catch Hope’s eye, his face saying ‘hold on while I talk to him’. Hope nodded in agreement, catching Ruth’s arm and leading her away from their men. 

“What about John?” Ruth looked hastily over her shoulder for him, meeting his conflicted eyes momentarily, but Hope pulled her on. 

“Gale’s going to talk to him, it’ll be okay. They’ve been through a lot, remember? It’s bound to catch up with them all at some point, and we just need to be here to help them if they fall.” Hope led her back to the table, sitting her down and placing the glass of ginger beer in front of her. 

Hope hated watching Ruth’s worried eyes keep darting back toward the boys, but she knew that her own eyes kept drifting back to Gale’s. If this evening had taught her anything, it was that life was more precious than they could ever realize, and each moment should be cherished. 

They needed a distraction from their anxieties, and Hope blurted the first story that came to mind.

“Do you remember that day when you were new to the Grove and you walked in on Frank naked?” 

The blonde’s cheeks immediately heated up as she buried her head in her hands, “How could I forget? I’d only known the man for three days.”

Hope laughed too, “Well, it could be worse. On my first day on base, he nearly ran me over with a jeep. That was before he realized I was on his plane. He bought me a beer that same evening to apologize.” 

Ruth laughed, imagining a younger Hope giving Frank hell for trying to run her down. 

“We had a medical technician on our plane with us back then. Joseph was his name. He was a right pretty boy…thought he was the bee's knees but I soon told him otherwise.” 

Ruth chuckled, knowing Hope probably gave the poor boy hell. It was strange thinking back to when they first came to the Grove, the airbase that had quickly become their home and safe haven. 

“It seems like a lifetime ago that I met you, Hope. I thought you hated me at first.”

“Oh, I didn’t hate you…I just thought you weren’t going to make it,” Hope replied honestly, feeling slightly guilty about how she’d misjudged her best friend. “You soon proved me wrong though, Rue. You’re a good nurse.” 

Hope looked up as Gale approached them, smiling brightly at her while John still stood near the bar still looking quite somber. Ruth stood up, quickly excusing herself as she made her way over to the bar, resting her hand against John’s arm.

“Hey,” she whispered, her blue eyes filled with worry. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand and tug him to the door.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she finally asked when they excited the club into the English night, her voice soft with concern.

John pursed his lips and a flicker of hesitation crossed his features before he shrugged. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

“John,” Ruth urged, her voice hardening as she gave him the look that always made her students squirm in their seats. 

And her tone…it was only used when dealing with problem students, the ones who lied directly to her face when she already knew the truth.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “I’m fine.”

“What was that, then?” Ruth pressed, refusing to let it go. She needed to know exactly what was wrong…needed to help him in whatever way she could.

But how could he tell her the truth?

He could go down the next day and it would be like he never was there in the first place. Gone like the 230 men they’d lost.

How was he supposed to tell the woman he loved that she could lose him in the blink of an eye?

That he could lose her just the same?

That he couldn’t write another life-shattering letter to a boy’s family?

His nervousness to confess his feelings was replaced with guilt, anger, and frustration that compounded in his chest, creating a volatile mixture that was bound to explode. 

“Nothing,” he insisted, his tone growing defensive. “Like I said.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Ruth pleaded as she grasped his hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know-”

The flood he’d been trying to hold back finally broke, and his voice raised just a fraction as he pulled his hand from hers. “Damn it, Ruth. I said I’m fine!”

The sharpness of his tone caught the woman off guard, and she recoiled slightly, blinking furiously to hold back the tears threatened to fill her eyes. “I’m just trying to help,” she whispered.

Without another word, she turned and walked back into the dance, leaving Bucky standing there in the chilly night. His hands moved to his hips as his chest heaved, the anger slowly leaving his body and morphing into guilt as his mind replayed her baby blues shining with tears and the tremble in her voice.

He was supposed to be a better man, someone worthy of her, and what did he do at the first chance?

Despite the mix of emotions within him, Johnny knew she was only trying to help, only trying to be there for him, and he’d raised his voice at her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before following after her, his heart pounding in his chest.

Pushing open the door and stepping inside, the sounds of the party filled Bucky’s ears, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care that the band played ‘Blue Skies’. His eyes scanned the bustling club and caught a glimpse of her blonde hair disappearing into the women’s bathroom.

John hesitated where he stood in the middle of the club, lost and unsure of what to do next. He knew he needed to talk to her, to make things right, but he also didn’t want to intrude on her privacy. Frustratingly running a hand over his mouth, he caught sight of Gale on the dance floor where he swayed slowly with Hope. Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced in the direction Ruth had gone over Hope’s shoulder. With a nod of his head, he silently urged Johnny to go after her. 

It was the push that he needed to make a decision.

Swallowing thickly, he approached the bathroom door and knocked, his knuckles rapping against the wood gently. “Ruthie, can I come in?”

His heart sank when he heard sniffles from inside.

“Please,” John murmured softly, his voice barely audible through the door.

A few seconds ticked by and he was about to ask again when the door clicked open, giving him a view of her reddened and splotchy face. Ruth backed up, allowing him to slowly push in the door. She stood before him with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, barely meeting his gaze as her eyes remained on the floor. John silently stepped into the room and closed the door behind him gently, muffling the sounds of the party outside.

They stood there silently for a few moments until Ruth finally looked up at him, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling her softly into his chest, running a hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry, doll. So sorry.”

Ruth stiffened for a moment before relaxing against him, burying her face into his chest.

“I’m not mad at you. I just,” he sighed against her hair. “I hate myself for making you upset. I know you’re just trying to help me.”

She lifted her head from his chest and broke her silence, her voice wavering. “Then talk to me.”

John stared at her for a moment, running his fingers through her hair gently as he thought of a way to explain what he felt…the weight he felt on his shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Ruth,” he muttered, his face tilting to the ground.

“I don’t care,” the nurse answered quietly, reaching up and gently lifting his face to meet her teary gaze. "Just…just please don’t shut me out.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence as Bucky nodded to himself with his lips pulled into a tight line. When he finally found the words, his voice was barely audible as he fought to keep his composure. 

“You heard Crank earlier. We’ve lost so many boys, and I-,” he cleared his throat, looking over her shoulder at the wall while fighting the burning sensation in his eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Ruth’s heart broke at his confession, and she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to her, their foreheads pressing together.

“John, you are going to get through this. We are going to get through this,” Ruth whispered. “I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere. You can talk to me, alright?”

He released a shuddering breath against her face, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he savored the feeling of her warm touch. The three words he’d been meaning to say all night danced on the tip of his tongue but refused to pour from his lips.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I-”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she interrupted, her thumb caressing his cheekbone lightly. “I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you. You make me so happy, Johnny.”

Bucky raised his hand to cover her much smaller one on his cheek as he sent her a soft smile. “I should be the one thanking you. You…you mean everything to me, Ruth. Everything. And I’m so sorry for talking to you like-”

“Just kiss me,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips.

John immediately obeyed, tilting his head to connect their lips softly, their worries fading away as they lost themselves in each other. Ruth’s hands slid from his face to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss with an eagerness he’d never seen from her before. He fought against every instinct in him urging him to take things farther, but she deserved more than that…they both did.

As they pulled away from the kiss, they remained wrapped in the other’s arms, their breaths mingling in the air between them. John’s gaze softened as he looked into Ruth’s eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He noticed the remnants of tears still clinging to her lashes, her eyes red and puffy, and his hand raised to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I’m getting a weekend pass to London,” he said breathlessly, nervously peering down at her. “Come with me.”

Ruth grinned and pecked his lips again softly. “I’d want nothing more.”

In that moment, with Ruth in his arms, John Egan vowed London would be the place…would be the time he’d confess his love for her. 

How he couldn’t imagine life without her.

London…it would be the place that everything changed.

Monday, September 20th: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 0700 HRS: 7 AM

Hope let out a long sigh as the C-47’s wheels left the runway in one swoop, rising above the airstrip and leaving the base far below them as they climbed into the clouds. Frank talked quietly to Bill in the cockpit, and both girls couldn’t help but smile at their pilot's antics. He was a good pilot, but as a mentor, he was a hard task-master, and Bill was being put through his paces. Ruth pulled John’s latest letter from her pocket, rereading his words with a small smile.

September 17th My Ruth, Hey, slugger. I hope you’ve had a good few days. Have your runs been okay? Has Frank been nice to you? You know I won’t hesitate to rough him up if not. I have been unable to keep my mind off of you…as usual. Schwarz developed the pictures from the party yesterday, and I’ve found myself staring at our photo for longer than I’d like to admit. You’re just so beautiful…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on…have I told you that? Schwarz also gave each Buck and Hugh individual pictures of them with Hope. I’m pretty sure Buck is sending copies of the letter he’s writing from his bunk. You’ll find one of us in this envelope, as well. I’m sure you’ll love it just as much as I do. I keep my copy in my breast pocket, next to my heart so you’ll be with me everywhere I go. When I start to spiral, I just look at you and your smiling face, and I remember what all this is for. Every day I ask myself how I got so lucky that you landed on my base out of the hundreds scattered around England, and after months of wondering, I still have no explanation.  All I know is that I kiss the lucky cross around my neck every time I leave and come back from a mission, thanking Mrs. Virginia Morgan that I made it back to the ground…back to you. I still can’t believe you wouldn’t take it back, Ruthie, but I promise to keep it safe until you’re ready to.  I can’t wait to take you to London, doll. Did your CO approve your leave? I can try to pull some strings if she doesn’t. Maybe I could give her a call and use my charm to convince her? What do you think? Stay safe up there for me, alright? Yours Completely, John Egan P.S. The Yankees swept the Athletics in their series, keeping their 9-game win streak alive. We’ve got the American League in the bag! What do I always say? The Yankees always end on top! Remember that, doll. You’ll be hearing it a lot after we win the World Series next month.

Both women received letters from their Majors late the night before and immediately wrote their responses, promising to send them the following morning. But when they were called up for a run before dawn, both dashed to the post room before hurrying back to ‘The Angel.’ 

“So how is the hotshot then?” Hope asked with a grin, amused by Ruth’s embarrassed expression, her pale cheeks blushing deeply. 

“How do you know I call him that?” Ruth asked curiously, but Hope just shook her head with a chuckle. 

“Ruth, you've read his letters out loud enough times when I’m around that I’ve basically read them myself.” The blonde nodded slowly, half listening to Hope and the other half of her too engrossed in John’s words as she reread them again. After a few moments, she looked up from the letter.

“I wrote to my parents about John the other day,” Ruth called out over the engine’s whine, a fond smile on her lips.

“Oh yeah?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah.”

“What all did you tell them?” Hope asked with a raised brow.

Ruth’s innocent smile turned into a mischievous smirk as she chuckled to herself. “Well, my Mama always reads the letters, so I wrote the basics for her to tell my Dad and Jamie, but gave her all the details.”

“John’s right,” she laughed. “You are a sneaky woman.”

Shrugging, Ruth pulled out the picture he sent from her pocket, her heart fluttering as she studied it, tracing the lines of John’s face on the small photo. She was glad to finally have a piece of Johnny to carry around with her, being able to whip it out whenever she missed him or just wanted to see his handsome face.

The plane rocked from side to side as they gained altitude, and the large metal bird flew ‘through the ‘gate’ as Frank liked to call it as she moved to full throttle, soaring up into the clouds. 

“Stop being a clot,” Frank hissed to Bill, flicking a few switches in the cockpit with a long sigh, “You know what you’re doing kid, but shit, try using your head sometimes okay?” 

“Yes Sir,” Bill nodded shyly, turning his attention back to the plane's control panel. The girls smiled at each other, listening to the two men bickering in the cockpit

“Where do you think the boys are right now?” Ruth asked, looking up nervously at Hope. She always worried when she thought of where their men could be. The thought of them in harm's way made her sick to the stomach. 

Were they flying like girls were? Were they in danger? 

Hope slouched in her seat as the plane leveled out, “I don’t know, Rue. I’d like to think that they’re at Thorpe Abbotts. Hugh’s probably getting into some sort of trouble or terrorizing poor Harry Crosby. John is probably having some coffee with his whiskey about now at breakfast.” This caused Ruth to laugh lightly at the thought of John’s usual morning routine.

“What about Gale?” 

Hope took a little longer to reply this time. “I think Gale would… well I don’t know. He’s probably either eating breakfast with John, walking Meatball, or he’s with his baby.” 

“His baby?” Ruth sputtered, cocking her head and looking at her friend for the answer.

“His Fort, ‘Our Baby’,” Hope laughed, watching as Ruth nodded, understanding the men’s attachment to their Forts. She guessed they all felt the same way about their own plane, although Ruth thought if she never had to fly again it would be a blessing. 

The pair soon fell into silence, both organizing their mussette bags for the hundredth time, as if they hadn’t checked all their supplies pre-flight. Hope moved up to the cockpit to check in with the pilots while Ruth moved along the racks of supplies, laying out fresh blankets on each cot, humming an Artie Shaw song to herself as she went.

“How’s it going up here, boys?” Hope leant over Frank’s shoulder, watching as the cloudy sky unfolded before them. 

“Can’t complain,” Frank replied plainly. “I think Billy Boy here is getting the hang of things at last.” The young pilot grinned at the compliment and Hope couldn’t help the sense of pride that filled her chest. They’d had several copilots training with Frank, but Bill was definitely the girl's favorite. 

Looking back out the window, Hope pointed towards the dark clouds erupting ahead of them. 

“Hey Frank, what’s that up ahead? That’s not what I think it is…right?”

“That, my dear Hope, is flak fire,” he said regretfully. “Looks like we’re heading to the movies. I suggest you girls grab a seat…Ruth may want a blindfold for this next part.” 

Hope swallowed, nodding quickly before rushing back to her seat. Bill talked quickly to Frank in the cockpit but remained calm, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t been through before. 

Ruth’s fearful eyes widened as Hope explained what Frank had told her before swiftly strapping herself into her seat. Her mind raced at all the terrible outcomes that could occur. 

What happens if they go down? 

What would happen if they just blew up over Germany? 

She tried to put on a brave face but she knew Hope would see right through it, she always did. 

The plane swerved as flak erupted around them, swooping and diving as the black clouds and wuffs from the Ack-Acks flew wildly around them. Hope and Ruth were thrown around in their seats as the plane swerved, flack bursts shaking the bird. They were very grateful that they always secured all their supplies and stretchers down pre-flight.

Hope’s fingers dug into the metal seat and her eyes closed as her stomach flipped in circles with each turn. She’d not had any issues with her motion sickness since her training, but the urge to vomit up her breakfast only grew as the bile rose in the back of her throat. 

Ruth opposite from her was as white as a sheet, her already pale face now the color of a corpse with her lips set in a thin worried line. Her teeth clenched tightly together and her eyes squeezed shut as flack pierced through the plane's fuselage above her head. 

“Shit!” Ruth shrieked, covering her head with her hands.

“You okay, Rue?” Hope shouted over the noise of the war around them. A glossy-eyed and panting Ruth only nodded quickly in response.

Bullets ripped through the riveted sheets of the fuselage with a series of metallic pings, piercing through easily and sending metal flying into the cabin like confetti. With the chaos surrounding them, Ruth barely noticed when a piece of shrapnel flew past her face, just grazing her temple. Flak fire continued to blast in the air surrounding the skytrain and the noise was deafening to everyone inside. 

How could anyone think strategically in these conditions? 

“OH FUCK!” Frank’s voice shouted from the cockpit as he leaned over to Bill, “Stay with me, kid.” Bill’s lifeless body lay wide-eyed staring straight ahead, his young face frozen, expressionless. “DAMMIT!” 

“What’s wrong, Frank?” Hope called out as she unbuckled herself and stumbled from her seat, edging her way towards him. 

Ruth’s eyes widened. “Hope! What are you doing?!”

She simply sent her a worried glance, seeing the blood trickling down Ruth’s cheek before disappearing from view, and the blonde stared at her in disbelief. When another burst sent burning hot metal through the plane’s fuselage around her, Ruth’s eyes clenched shut, her head bowing as she mumbled a prayer for them, her hand instinctively reaching up for her usual comfort… her necklace….her lucky necklace that now hung around the neck of John Egan.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

In the cockpit, Frank didn’t turn to face Hope when he spoke, his eyes trained on the incoming fire from the Messerschmitts flying in all directions around them. 

“We have been fucked by the fickle finger of fate and today is not our day. We’re down to one engine and she isn’t sounding too healthy. We’re littered with holes and,” he paused, his throat constricting as he motioned to the young boy who lay dead beside him. “And the Krauts…they got Billy.” 

The plane juddered and smoke poured from the remaining engine with a horrendous screech as Frank took a steadying breath. The next words to leave his lips sent a shiver down Hope’s spine. 

They were the ones every airman, flight nurse, and pilot prayed they’d never have to hear…

“There goes the last engine. We’re going down!”

Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine @kmc1989 @gfofsadie @artlover8992 @karashaw99 @dustyjumpwjngs @camicanos-blog @storysimp @b00ks1ut @sunny747 @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok @yoongiscxr @blueberry-ovaries @sidneysidney123 @p-polaroid @ginabaker1666 @yorkshirekiwi @barrykeoghussy @slowsweetlove @groovin2beats @imusicaddict @imaginationlover101 @justheretoreadthhx

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

[instructionsnotincluded]

True North

Lovely banner by @lady-cheeky

Deleted Scene I | Bucky's Letter To His Mother

As referenced in Chapter Twenty-One of True North

June 20th, 1943

Dear Mother, 

I hope you’re doing well and that things are mostly uneventful back home. I know the 29th is coming up and even though I’m not there, I’m thinking of you. Make sure you tell everyone hello for me, even Lowell. If he’s still in the picture... 

England is rainy. The weather is temperamental, and even though it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen, you’d hate it. It’s a long walk just about everywhere, often in the rain and mud. I was able to acquire a pair of bicycles from one of the villagers for Buck and I. He’s not as excited about the bike as I am. Things are wonderful and terrible at the same time. Boys go up and they don’t come back, but we make the most of it. The pub down at the village is one of our favorite places, they let me sing from time to time and only boo occasionally. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing so late, since Dad’s anniversary will have passed by the time you get this. Better late than never, right? 

The truth is, I’ve been trying to write this letter for over a week now. I’ve started it dozens of times, I think, and canned each of the previous attempts. Each time I get to this part I either ramble or it just doesn’t make sense or I feel like a loon, so I’m going to keep it short: I met a girl. She occupies most of my thoughts now, and the boys give me a hard time. They think I don’t know about their on-going bets, but I do. I won’t spoil their fun. She’s a pilot for the Air Transport Auxiliary and she’s really something else, Mom. I’ve never met anyone like her. I don’t think there are enough words to describe her, so I won’t. But just know she’s it for me. I know we joked before I left about not falling in love with an English girl, but I can’t promise that I won’t come home with a wife from Texas. If she’ll have me, that is. 

Keep your chin up this week, I’m there with you in spirit. Pray we kick Hitler’s butt soon and we can come home. 

Love, your son, 

Johnnie

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - John Egan x OC

masterlist is here <3

25. To Smile Or Weep

There was so much Stella wanted to tell John, so much she’d been dreaming of telling him in the lonely months they’d spent apart. And just like always, he was content to listen to her talk, watching her with a tiny smile as she spoke at length about the details of her life since he’d gone down.

The two of them were sitting on the floor beneath the window of their barracks in the stalag, John’s back against the wall, Stella on her knees, facing him between his legs. Her hands moved wildly as she spoke and she was so animated, like all the life had been breathed back into her just for seeing him.

John was mesmerised. He knew all the other men could see it, had noticed it, were probably talking about it, but he didn’t care. Stella Finley, his Stels, here, in front of him, babbling and happy to see him. She didn’t hate him, she’d just never gotten his letters. It made sense now; she’d been sent to another base and then she’d been a fugitive in France. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to reply, it was that she hadn’t been able to.

He’d never known love like this. He’d never even known attraction like this. If he’d ever looked at another woman and thought she was pretty it hadn’t been even half of what this was. Even the prettiest woman he’d ever seen beforehand, all dolled up in a fancy dress and makeup, hair styled to perfection, wasn’t half of what Stella was with her hair tangled and old blood crusted on her face and a too big uniform which was covered in dirt. He could have sat there with his back aching against the hard wood behind him, watching her talk, forever.

“... presents for my birthday,” she was telling him, managing a smile just at the memory, faraway thought it now was. “And cake!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never had a birthday cake before but they got me two, just in case I didn’t like the first one.”

John opened his mouth to say something to this but Stella didn’t notice, simply carried on talking, as was her way.

“And I have a best friend,” she added. “Her call sign is Lucky, because her last name means ‘fortunate’ in Polish, which is where she’s from. She fled to England when Poland was invaded. She’s a tiny force of nature and I love her so much.” Stella faltered. Her eyes became faraway. In a daze, as though hypnotised, one of her hands dipped beneath her - John’s - jacket, searching for something. When she withdrew it, she was holding a raggedy old toy rabbit.

She stared down at it as though she’d never seen it before.

“That hers?” John asked softly when all Stella did was stare at it. “Your friend’s?”

“My best friend’s,” Stella corrected quietly. “Her childhood bunny. Before my last flight she gave him to me to look after, to bring me luck, and I gave her Ralph.” Shaking her head, Stella sniffled, swiped at her nose, and lifted her gaze to the light streaming in from the window. “She’s going to be so angry with me,” she said. “She specifically told me to bring him back in one piece and instead I dragged him all around France and now he’s in a prisoner of war camp.”

John was watching her closely, his frown pronounced on his face. “I bet she’s just glad you’ve got her rabbit looking out for you,” he offered after a beat.

At this, Stella cracked a tiny, rueful smile. “We’ve been through a lot together, this rabbit and I.” She shook her head, sniffling and wiping at her nose once more. She placed the rabbit down on the table beside her and finally, reluctantly, met John’s gaze.

She smiled for him, as wide as she could, more secure now, more certain. “John,” she said softly. Her eyes were gentle and reverential, bright and sad all at once. “I’m so happy to see you.”

John was sure he felt his heart melt. Any second now he was sure to catch sight of it leaking out of the soles of his boots. God knew they were thin enough after being worn so relentlessly all winter.

He couldn’t find his voice for a second, struck dumb by her sincerity. She’d only shown him glimpses of this side of her before and only right at the very end, just before he’d gone down. It was new to him in its certainty. She was new to him in her vulnerability. Something in what she’d experienced in their time apart had softened her to him, had opened her up to him, had made her realise he wasn’t her enemy.

He wanted so desperately to take her into his arms and cradle her to his chest. The tips of his fingers were itching with the ache for it.

But he denied himself the pleasure, the honour. Just in case. He didn’t want to do too much too soon, be too much too soon. Baby steps, even now that they were reunited. He wouldn’t allow himself to chase her away as he had so many times before.

So he cleared his throat and offered a small smile. “Happy to see you too, Stels. Just wish it was under better circumstances.”

Stella took a look around at the small wooden room. It was dirty and cold, even in the spring. Crowded, too, with too many men and too many beds. But it was no worse, really, than the bedroom she’d spent her childhood in. There was maybe even something comforting about having so many familiar faces packed into one space. Here, no one would be able to get to her in the middle of the night. Whether they knew her well or not, Stella knew these men would look after her

Turning back to John, Stella shrugged. “I’ve been locked in worse.”

His eyes were hard as they searched her face, seeking an explanation.

She wouldn’t give him one - not yet, at least. Maybe not ever. Instead, she asked, “Can I sleep in your bed?” and waited patiently for his reply.

John didn’t have a reply - not yet, at least. His jaw was hanging slightly ajar, his eyebrows slightly raised.

Heat flooded to Stella’s cheeks. She had to look away. “Okay, nevermind.”

“No - I mean - wait,” John sputtered immediately. “I mean, yes, of course. Sure you can, Stels. Of course.”

From where he was leaning against the wall to Stella’s left, John Brady snorted. John shot him a dirty look and he promptly looked away, pretending to mind his own business.

“Which bed is yours?” Stella asked next, still blushing and furious at herself because of it.

Reaching out an arm, John patted the mattress of the bed on his left, in the middle of the three beds stacked on top of each other as bunk beds.

From the other side of the room, where he’d clearly also been eavesdropping, DeMarco said, “We can swap if you want.” When Stella turned to look at him he inclined his head in the direction of the beds.

Following the gesture, Stella noticed for the first time the photographs which were taped up on the wall beside each bed. The bottommost had photos of the dog she recognised as Meatball, the Siberian husky DeMarco had brought to Thorpe Abbotts with him. He’d been under the custody of Freddie Leroy ever since DeMarco had gone down with Buck - probably she’d been the one to send him the pictures.

Stella turned back to give DeMarco a small smile. “That’s okay. Thank you, though.” She didn’t want to cause any more upheaval than she surely already had.

DeMarco breathed a laugh. “Sleeping in a bed with two guys on top of you is one thing. Sleeping in a bed with two guys and a woman on top of you is another.” When Stella laughed he grinned. “You take the bottom bunk.”

“You tryna say the lady’s heavy, Benny?” John teased with a smile in his voice.

DeMarco rolled his eyes. “I’m tryna say I don’t wanna be stuck underneath the two of you rolling around in bed together. On top is bad enough.”

Stella choked on her next inhale.

“No, that ain’t -” John started to insist.

“I’m a virgin!” Stella snapped.

Silence fell on the room.

Buck coughed awkwardly into his fist from his bed.

No one knew what to say in response to that. And suddenly no one wanted to look at each other, either.

That was, until out of nowhere John could hold in his laugh no longer and it all but burst out of him, even when the eyes of the room were upon him.

Stella turned to the room at large and inquired curiously, “Is there a bathroom around here?” to no one in particular. All of a sudden the need to escape was so strong it was making her palms itch, her underarms sweat, her eyes water.

John, still chuckling, planted his hands in preparation to stand, but before he could Buck had jumped down from his bed, the topmost of the three on his side of the room. He gave Stella a small smile. “I’ll show you,” he said. “Make sure no one gives you any trouble.”

“Thanks.”

There were no men in any of the stalls in the communal bathroom of their block. Buck stood guard outside to make sure it stayed that way while Stella was in there. As quickly as she could, Stella took the opportunity to wash herself of the blood and dirt and sweat she was caked in. She scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was red raw and still didn’t feel clean, would never feel clean, but she was conscious of Buck waiting for her outside and all the other men who were likely waiting to use the bathroom.

It was against her better judgement that she washed her hair in the sink but she wasn’t sure when she’d next get the opportunity. She would just deal with the cold - she must have been used to it by now anyway.

When she reemerged, as clean as she was likely to get, with her clothes sticking to the wet patches of her skin where she hadn’t had a towel to dry off with, Buck gave her another tiny smile and started back the way they’d come.

Stella fell into step beside him easily. Their footsteps were loud on the creaky wooden floors, likely echoing in all of the rooms beyond the closed doors they passed. “Thank you for waiting.”

“Not a problem,” Buck replied.

Stella nodded, wondering whether she even wanted to say what she was about to, but she said it anyway. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’m probably going to cause you by being here.”

Glancing over at her, Buck furrowed his eyebrows. There was a confused smile on his lips. “You didn’t ask to be here any more than I did, Fin.”

Stella shook her head. “But John took me in before asking any of you. I don’t want to impose or -”

“We were never gonna let you go anywhere else, Fin,” Buck cut across her. “Me or any of the others. Even if John wasn’t here we woulda taken you in. It’s not a problem.”

Sighing, Stella relented. Secretly, the sentiment warmed her. The unspoken implication wasn’t lost on her and it wasn’t lost on Buck, either; she was one of them, whether she’d made a conscious effort to be when they’d all still been at Thorpe Abbotts or otherwise. None of them had ever had any question or any doubt about whether or not she’d bunk with them.

Back in the room, Stella took a seat at the table in the centre of the room and took another look around, at the photographs and letters pinned to the walls next to beds, at the primitive lights in the ceiling and the solitary window with its view out into the camp courtyard. She surveyed the books on a shelf in the corner and the mugs left scattered across the table. She smiled when she noticed the wooden aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling by the window, and smiled wider when she saw that DeMarco had already switched his bed with John’s, evidenced by the new location of his photographs.

John’s bed didn’t have any similar distinguishing features, no letters and no pictures taped to the wall, just the same threadbare blanket and pillow that everyone else had. But now there was a stuffed bunny lying back against the pillow, its body tucked beneath the blanket. Stella grinned when she saw it and she knew John had seen, had been waiting for her to notice, because when she looked over at him he was hiding his smile, busying himself with shuffling the deck of cards in his hands.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends, so instead she took to looking out of the window, wondering just what she was going to do with herself all day.

She didn’t have to wonder for long.

The door banged open, slamming into the wall and swinging on its hinges, and three camp guards stormed in.

Stella was on her feet with her back pressed to the furthest wall in an instant because, by now, she recognised this aggression, had an idea of what was coming. Her heart was racing, loud and insistent, her back was sweating, all the blood rushed to her head. Her hands were shaking and her toes were curling in her boots and her breath was stuttering, as though someone had their hands around her neck.

John was immediately in front of her, the bulk of his frame covering her completely until she couldn’t even see the guards anymore.

The guards recognised his protective stance. “We just want to talk to her,” one of them said in heavily-accented English.

Stella’s hands curled into the back of John’s jacket.

“She’s already told you everything you need to know,” John replied, his voice calm but cold, unforgiving. Stella was sure his eyes were even colder.

The guard who had first spoken laughed. “No,” he disagreed, “she has not.”

“Then ask her right here,” Buck cut in, coming to stand beside John.

“Interrogations must take place in private to prevent interference,” the guard replied pleasantly enough. “Move aside.”

“I told the Gestapo everything,” Stella said. Her voice was shaky to her own ears. “I answered all their questions. Anything else I don’t know.”

One of the other guards, his voice significantly higher than the first’s, cackled. “You expect us to believe you do not know the location of your own airfield?”

Stella swallowed hard. Her hands were tight in the back of John’s jacket. “I don’t. They blindfolded me when they took me there.”

“You flew out of that airfield many times. Almost forty times, if our records are correct.”

“That doesn’t mean I know where it is.”

“That is exactly what it means!” the guard snapped.

Stella flinched.

John reached a hand behind him for her and she took it without a second thought, edging closer to him when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You have not told us the call signs of any other pilot who flies for the Moon Squadron,” the guard continued.

“I don’t know their call signs,” she said.

John knew this wasn’t true because she’d told him her best friend’s call sign not two hours earlier. He squeezed her hand again in encouragement as well as reassurance.

The guards had evidently had enough of conducting this conversation here. “Move aside,” the first guard demanded of John and Buck once more, “or we will move you aside.”

“Then move us aside,” John replied evenly with a casual shrug.

The scuffing of feet along the floor, the shuffling of footsteps. Stella couldn’t see what was going on but she knew well enough what was happening. All at once, wordlessly, the rest of the men in the room came to stand in front of John and Buck, forming a human barrier between Stella and the guards.

She wasn’t sure whether to smile or weep.

There was a moment’s contemplative pause. Stella imagined in her mind’s eye the staredown which was taking place between the American airmen and the German guards. But after a long, torturous moment there erupted into the air a shrill, sharp laugh, almost hysterical in its suddenness and undeniably from one of the guards.

“Fine,” that same voice said next, his bitter smile audible even in the way he spat the word. “You may keep her. For now.” With that sinister threat said and nothing more, Stella listened with bated breath to the retreating footsteps of the guards. Only once the door was firmly shut once more did the men who had banded together in her defence disperse.

When John’s posture relaxed, Stella finally let herself breathe properly.

Even when John turned to face her, ducking his head and seeking out her eyes, Stella still didn’t relinquish her hold on his jacket. It twisted and bunched in her grip, the leather quietly protesting between her fingers, and she only relaxed her hold so she could grip another section, this time near his chest, then scrunched it right back up again. Tentatively, slowly, warily, like a guilty child knowing they were about to be reprimanded, Stella met his eyes.

Inexplicably, John was smiling. It was only a tiny smile, largely hidden in the corners of his mouth as though it was there entirely against his will, but it made his eyes scrunch just slightly in that way Stella had been dreaming of all these months. When he spoke, his voice was unbearably gentle, like the feathers of a docile bird. “You been lying to the Nazis, Stels?”

Reluctantly, Stella cracked a smile of her own. “Through my teeth.”

John breathed a laugh. He was so much bigger than she remembered him being, tall and broad and protective. “All this time,” he said, shaking his head a little bit but keeping his eyes locked on hers, “I been comforting myself with the thought that you were safe. Back at Thorpe Abbotts with Alice and Jessop, drinking and flying Hurricanes and outsmarting every fool who looked at you and only saw a pretty face.” He shut his eyes momentarily, still with that rueful, indulgent smile, half pained and half amazed. “Stels,” he breathed, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“You know what I’m doing here,” Stella reminded him softly. “I always told you I was destined for greater, and I was right.”

“You were destined for greater than this,” John objected, peeling open his eyes and gazing deeply into hers. “You weren’t supposed to sit out the war like this.”

“Neither were you,” Stella pointed out. “But we are. And here is better than where I was before.” At least here I’m with you, she thought.

John’s eyebrows crashed down over his eyes. He opened his mouth and she knew he was about to ask about what had happened to her in her last prison.

Stella looked away. She shook her head. “Not yet,” she said before he could.

John let out a low exhale, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “If I was given the choice now I’d still choose to join the Moon Squadron, even knowing what would happen after.” She’d held onto that throughout her interrogation. She hadn’t always been so sure of the sentiment, had often felt like she was holding onto a lie, but she was sure of it now. She would still choose to do what she’d done. It had all happened the way it was supposed to. There was no other way she could think about everything which had happened and still believe it made sense.

John’s eyes fell resignedly closed. “I wish I never went down,” he confessed.

Stella smiled softly, fondly, and curled her fingers tighter into his jacket. “But then I’d be here without you,” she said, “and then what would I do?”

[evita-shelby]

2024's 12 days of Smuffmas

or i write 12 smut + fluff one shots for you to enjoy these holidays

thanks @ewanmitchellcrumbs for making this year's prompts

Minors don't interact 🔞

December 12th - candlelight and collaring (Luca Changretta x Eva Smith)

December 13th - presents and praise kink (Jack Nelson x Evelyn Shelby(borrowed from @novashelby ) x Eva Smith

December 14th - blizzard and blowjob (Brilliant Chang x Eva Smith) (accidentally posted early)

December 15th - mulled wine and mutual masturbation (asoiaf au!Luca x Eva)

December 16th - fireplace and face fucking(Tommy Shelby x Eva Smith)

December 17th - tinsel and talking dirty(Bucky Egan x Diane Shelby)

December 18th - board games and breath play(Jack Nelson x Eva)

December 19th - holly and hair pulling

December 20th - stockings and sex toys(Bucky Egan x Buck Cleven x Diane Shelby)

December 21st - dressing up and dry humping(modern!Jack Nelson x Eva)

December 22nd - party and position changes(Brilliant Chang x Eva Smith)

December 23rd - home videos and voyeurism(modern!Tommy x Eva Smith)

2023 12 Days of Smuffmas

[wexhappyxfew]

How about “you can kiss me, you know” for Kennedy and Bucky if you think it fits them? 💜 I can’t wait to see what you cook up from these!

HI SWEET ANON!!!! i must say, upon receiving this prompt - my entire world shifted on its axis a bit so THANK YOU!!!!! the way this prompt fit them was SO INSANELY WELL. it just seemed to scream KENNEDY X BUCKY to me. and i just. ate it up. truly. this was a JOY and a TREAT to write and just. safe to say - bucky's POV of kennedy farley is one of my favorite things ever and just - THEY DESERVE THE WORLD !!!!!! they deserve all that is good and well!!! <3333 THANK YOU AGAIN ANON - positively *obsessed*! kennedy x bucky girlies this is for YOU! :D

you found me

(a/n): POV: we're in Bucky's POV, opening scene is when everyone is getting letters from home and he hasn't gotten a single one. that one post about the way the show seemed to portray bucky not getting letters left me reeling and just. do with that what you will. and also. yeah. kennedy makes bucky's mind got scatter-brained at every given opportunity lmao. COME AND GET IT !!!!!!!! THESE TWO JUST. INSANE. INSANE INSANE INSANE. (this prompt was everything) cue: you found mehhh, you found mehhhh, lying on the floorrrr...... (don't mind my horrible puns, it's in the title lmfao, i couldn't help it, but it's a kennedy quote so haha!)

The place was changing him.

He knew that much.

He could tell when he woke in the morning and went to bed at night, and his mind was an even deeper and darker place than it had been 12 hours earlier. Seeing the women the way they were, the men, the food situation, the general health of each and every person crammed in that bunk room, seeing the new guys coming in day in and day out, walking in circles convincing himself he wasn't crazy.

It was changing him and he couldn't wrangle in that change in any way that would be manageable.

And seeing those letters.

Goddamn, it made him a little crazy inside - those words, the smells, the feelings, the evident love and care that were in each and every one.

Something deep in his chest hurt a little more than he wanted when mail call would come and peoples' names would be read out and they'd get their letters and be reading it with such gratitude and genuineness in their gazes.

It usually made Bucky snippy, a little more irritated in a way he didn't want. And without fail, Buck could usually get a whiff of that the second that he grew quiet and withdrawn.

Curse his customary loud mouth!

"I think you were right," Buck said as they walked side by side, kicking up dust, grimacing at the slightly bitter chill of early-morning air racing across the open patch of brown dirt and sand their barracks were on, "we should've made a run for it while they were out chasing those Brits." Should've, could've, would've. Bucky bit back his lip and glanced sideways at Buck a bit before looking forward a bit with a shake of the head.

"Maybe, but I can't help thinking you were right. Better to play it safe." Bucky answered quietly back, a worn tone to his voice, sudden agitation lingering in his throat, "The hell am I rushing back home for?" It grew quiet for a moment.

What the hell was he so hellbent on getting out of here for anyway? A life? A home? A girlfriend? He shook his head.

"Other guys get letters. You get letters. Bessie gets letters. Hambone gets letters." Bucky said, "To get a letter, you need someone to get it from." Bucky watched as he kicked a stone forward, hands shoved deep into his pockets, the cool wind back again, blowing up his neck and across his face, "Guess I never set that part up right." Buck looked over at him slightly.

"That's just this place talking. You're tired."

"I am tired."

"You'll have plenty of time for that when you get out." Buck said, his ever-present tender tone, his voice a pleasant escape from the world around them, so hopeful and yearning for a future outside of this.

"You'll set it up right next time." Bucky wished he was a little more like that.

"They're only gonna know this me. Not the old me." Bucky said quietly, with a sigh. "Me before I got here. That's if we even get out."

"We'll get out. And this you will be the one worth knowing." Buck said - this you will be the one worth knowing? Would this Bucky be worth it? Knowing him? His tendencies, his way about looking at life like it were some sort of rock to throw in the water on the side of a river? Like hazardously tip-toeing around something without taking that extra care to see it through? The Bucky who lost all composure when Buck had gone down, when men went down every day, when Kennedy had come in looking more ghost than waist gunner.

"You sure about that?" he asked Bucky, glancing over at the man with a stern look in his gaze, "I wouldn't be convinced."

"Farley seems convinced." Buck said and it took all of two seconds for Bucky to freeze.

Farley?

Listen, Bucky was a fan of Kennedy Farley, always had been, always would be - even if she was a Red Sox fan - but he had lost the point where Farley was connected to the conversation.

"What's Farley gotta do with this?" Bucky asked, turning to look at Buck with a slightly standoffish look in his eye, "I don't think she needs any sort of convincing. She just….thinks what she thinks and does what she needs to do from there, you know? Don't get me wrong, Farley's a good someone to have in your back pocket - hell, we're in each other's by this point but-" Buck stopped and looked to him, placing his hands on his hips, giving Bucky a look, stopping Bucky in his rather rambling attempt to cover his ass - for whatever reason, he wasn't sure.

"You know what I'm talking about, Bucky," Buck said, his voice quiet, "don't tell me you're confused." Bucky looked at him.

"Cut the crap, Buck." Bucky said quietly, watching as Buck smiled the slightest bit.

"You can't keep your eyes off her, Bucky," Buck said quietly, "and here you are saying you got no one." Buck stepped forward and gently patted his shoulder. "She's been there the whole time."

Bucky followed Buck into the bunk room and immediately let his eyes become drawn to her there at the table in the center of the room, her ginger hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes looking more tired than they had been in days, and her nose bright red - still fighting off that damn cold everyone had seemed to catch.

Bucky had paused a bit in the threshold, his body locked up in a way that he was sure even a fire couldn't melt and briefly caught Buck's gaze back at him as he went to lift himself onto a bunk.

It was pretty quiet in the room for one and going directly over to Kennedy, and asking her just to talk real quick would probably make things more obvious than needed.

And a sudden bit of jitters hit him as he stood there, eyes locked on Kennedy, hands shoved in his pockets, heart pounding. With the way the sun seemed to be hitting her from the windowpane that they had stood by those few weeks in the middle of the night, he couldn't help but seem to swallow all his thoughts and words into a pit in the middle of his stomach.

"Sir?" Bucky blinked quickly to find the group at the table looking up at him, the familiarity of Margie's voice hitting his ears as he glanced at her, sat at the table, flipping through a book - a mixture of mild confusion and concern contorting her face.

"Uh," Bucky started, clearing his throat awkwardly and then looking to Kennedy, "can we talk?" His voice came out slightly hoarse, muffled and choked as he asked her and he knew he needed to get it together quick or he'd look more like a clown than anything.

Kennedy gave him a weird look - she was always giving him weird looks, admittedly, if she wasn't, he'd probably be more concerned. But then she nodded, placing down her own book in her hands and got to her feet, a slight smile on her face.

That smile was enough to send him into a new dimension, he was sure of that - and he wasn't sure of a lot of things - the war, the future, even right now. He was sure of that smile though.

And Kennedy.

"What's up?" she asked him, coming around the table and looking up at him.

Words, words, words.

"Not here." Bucky said quickly, not missing the slow smile rising on Buck's face from somewhere in his goddamn peripheral that was enough to make him squirm, "The library?" Kennedy eyed him.

"Sure." she said, vaguely suspicious sounding. She slid past him and it seemed it got his own legs moving as he caught Buck's eye again - who winked enthusiastically. Bucky gave him a look, briefly catching Margie's second of growing suspicion before following after Kennedy to the library at the corner of the building.

Stepping inside, it was empty and if anything - quiet. Bucky could get a wrangle on his thoughts and hopefully not sound like a fool in front of Kennedy.

Kennedy turned to him as he slowly shut the door behind him, her eyes running over him worriedly, stood with her arms folded across her chest, a quiet look on her face that was beyond enough to make his insides warm.

He'd seen Kennedy Farley as a more stripped back person of herself out here and to say it made him yearn for that time back in Thorpe Abbotts everyday, made him go a little crazy. If he hadn't been so….just chasing after anything, so blinded by the alcohol and the women and the music. If he'd just taken a moment to focus and see Kennedy Farley had been there all along. With that laugh, that smile, her comforting words, her willingness to put herself all out there just for the hell of it.

"You okay?" Kennedy asked him, her eyes searching his face, a small smile darting out with a chuckle, "You look a little pale."

"For Chrissake, the sun don't ever come out, Kenny," he said, his nervous chatter slipping out as a small smile graced his presence and it seemed to echo in Kennedy's smile back to him, "no, no, I'm fine, serious, just. Needed to talk. To you."

"Yeah." Kennedy said, watching him, slightly confused, "We….sorta established that back in the bunk room."

"Right." Bucky said, his brain malfunctioning in every improper way that a brain could in a moment like this, "Need to talk. Yes." Kennedy laughed slightly, before simply smiling that gorgeous grin.

"So, what's up?"

Two feet between them felt like the farthest they'd been.

"Not much, just…..with Buck getting that letter and all. From Marge…." Bucky started, his voice steady for once. Confident.

"Marge." Kennedy echoed, "Seems like a sweetheart. The two of them."

"Yeah," Bucky choked out and nodded, placing his hands on his hips, "yeah, just….thought a lot and. Talked to Buck about things and just. This. Where we are. It's…." Kennedy watched him, the previous bit of light-hearted joking in her eyes dwindling away as she watched him.

"What's going on, Bucky?" Kennedy asked, her voice serious in a way that made his words pull themselves together - because that's what Kennedy deserved. None of his stumbling, mumbling, jumbling self.

"I just…." Bucky started and then couldn't help but slowly reach out and placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly moving in small circles near her clavicle and towards her shoulders, squeezing gently as they stared at each other, her face so close to his, he could see green specks in her brown eyes, "Getting downed. In that plane. And having you show up. All those talks we've had. All those nights. I just. You've helped me to realize a lot of things about life that wouldn't have fucking come to my attention if I hadn't talked to you." Kennedy stared at him, slightly taken aback.

"And…..Kennedy, I just," Bucky started, holding her gaze, his eyes on her lips and her bright-red nose and her eyes and back to her lips again - God, if he could just get a taste right here, right now, "even when the war ends, I don't…. I don't want to stop knowing you." A moment of silence stilled around them as Kennedy let out a small breath and slowly nodded at him.

"Me either, Bucky," she said, and then tilted her head, "what's going on, Bucky, seriously. Are you running a fever? Did someone say something to you? You're gonna live through this, ya know?"

"I know!" Bucky exclaimed, his voice louder than wanted as he looked back to her and shook his head and sighed, "I know, it's not….it's not that. It's….it's more. Us. You and me."

"What about you and me?" Kennedy asked him, a small smile growing on her face before gently bumping his shoulder with a first, "We're good, you know that. You and me." Bucky watched her, the corners of his lips growing upwards into a grin.

"I know that." he said with a slow nod and smile that got her grinning wider.

"Then what's got your mind racing?" she asked him, stepping closer to him. Bucky swallowed.

"You." he said, confident as can be - he was always confident looking at her, at them. Her back hit the wall next to the door, their faces intermingling in front of one another as they continued staring into each other's eyes, her slightly lower than him but all just the same.

"Me?" she asked, as if to spur him and his pounding heart on, "Highest honors, Bucky Egan. What did I ever do to deserve lingering in your mind so much, huh?"

"A lot," admonished Bucky, verbalizing his thoughts for once, "everything you do. Even just standing there like this. You make me crazy, you know." Kennedy's eyes flitted to his lips and she sucked in a breath as she met his gaze again.

"Well," Kennedy whispered, slowly reaching up to wrap her fists in balls of his brown A2 near the collar, smiling slightly, "if you must satisfy such a need and displeasure, you can just kiss me, you know."

Everything around Bucky practically dissipated in his peripheral vision, his hands freezing on her shoulders, acutely aware of the death grip she had on the front of his A2, along with that look in her eye.

Watching her, knowing she was watching him back, suddenly made him realize what words had just slipped from her mouth. Kennedy Farley's mouth. He must've pulled quite the 'slap-in-the-face' sort of look because Kennedy smirked, rather confidently, and pulled him slightly closer, her warm breath fanning his face, that look in her eyes making him feel like ice next to fire.

"When were you gonna tell me you wanted to kiss me, huh?" he whispered, voice low, briefly noticing her cheeks bloom to a light crimson, enough to make him chuckle as he found himself now, stepping closer, caging her practically against the wall with his broad-shouldered form.

Months ago, if you told him, he'd be standing there, inches from Kennedy Farley, he would've laughed. He really would've. For it seemed that what it was worth, Kennedy Farley wanted nothing more out of him than simply a friend and a leader. And suddenly, she was standing right there, her eyes on his lips, his hands slowly creeping towards her neck, brushing the skin beneath her jawline and he felt the collar of his neck grow hot.

"When were you gonna tell me?" she whispered back, looking up at him; enough to make his mind feel quickly scattered and Bucky couldn't seem to help it.

Bucky heard those words from her lips and didn't think twice, as he leaned down and engulfed her lips with his own, a groan leaving his mouth as she pulled him towards her even more so, kissing back with just as much urgency as he had to her.

His hands were pressed into her rosy cheeks, her fingers were into his hair and he could feel every inch of her lips on his - kissing back in a way that did make him crazy. He didn't know how fast things were moving when a whimper left her lips and he slid his tongue into her mouth, this slow, sanguine pull inside him making him yearn for all of her right then and there.

It was desperate, maybe a little bit messy, but Bucky had never wanted someone so bad that made him so nervous like a schoolboy.

He had never wanted like this.

He couldn't help it when his hands moved to her waist and a moan left her mouth as his lips trailed to her jawline and then to her neck, nibbling at each and every soft part of her skin that was flush with the feel of her underneath his lips. She was groaning quietly in his ear, enough to make all of his senses suddenly….something he hadn't felt in quite some time, as he pulled back briefly only to capture her lips in his again.

And for a moment, they had to pull back, he had to pull back or he wouldn't be able to control himself, gently pressing his forehead against hers, the two of them panting like some sort of other worldly creature.

Being so close to her, intoxicated by her touch and her being, her felt crazed by what the feel of her lips on his had been. Her hand slowly trailed up to the side of his slightly stubbled face, her fingertips making him shiver and an almost desperate, groaning noise leaving his lips just at her touch. It was like fire - good fire - and how fire was good he would never know because though it could keep you warm, it always brought some form of destruction with it all. But her touch, her flame, the fire, it made him completely undone.

"I feel insane around you," Bucky whispered softly against her lips before deeply pressing a kiss against her evidently swollen lips and pulling back, "you know that?" He couldn't open his eyes, he felt drugged under her touch and simply her, but he heard her let out a quiet laugh, her hands gently tapping along the sides of his face again as she did so.

"Didn't know I had that sort of effect on you, Major Egan." she whispered quietly, her voice slightly hoarse. Bucky let out a quick laugh, before squeezing his hands against her hips again that were so deeply pressed against his own and he sighed, a pathetic sigh.

"Longer than I thought actually, Kenny," he whispered quietly back, "way longer than I thought."

Kennedy giggled - she giggled.

Bucky's brain actually stuttered a bit at the thought of Kennedy giggling - like that - because it seemed the last thing she'd do. But it sounded so adorable and he was the only one that had heard it and for a second, he felt like the luckiest person to be standing there right now.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and found Kennedy and her big, deep brown eyes already staring back at him - catching that brilliant gaze that watched him back - slightly giddy, soft and enthralled all at once. A sight he'd probably remember until his death bed.

And he couldn't help but grin and bring up a hand to cup the side of her face, touching her skin, her hair, her. He felt like had was under a spell and she was the culprit in every right way that she could be one.

"I can honestly say much of the same," Kennedy whispered quietly, her eyes growing squinty for a minute as she smiled and laughed, "you always looked at me different, Bucky, I knew that." Bucky watched her, his smile seemingly plastered on his face and he couldn't fight it down.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered back, leaning closer, their noses brushing, his other hand escaping up under her shirt to her bare skin, caressing her softness, "Different, huh? You noticed?"

"And you're admitting to it?" she whispered back with another chuckle, "Bucky Egan, you are really surprise after surprise, aren't you." She chuckled and he couldn't help but watch her eyes again so close to her.

"Nah," Bucky whispered, "just….." He watched her smile. "I always thought about you, ya know. And I wasn't lying. Back when I heard Silver Bullets took a hit and it was Margie. I thought of you." Bucky grinned wider.

"I'd think of you at night, too. Sometimes I wondered if I could try and find you at night, just to talk to you," Bucky whispered, "but I'd shove it out of my mind. Didn't think you thought like that. About me. About us." Kennedy watched him, a small smile lingering on her lips.

"You could've come and found me," Kennedy whispered back to him, her thumb brushing his cheek, a grin poking out, "would've been better than….I don't know, wrestling with some fucking nightmares, ya know?"

"I'll be honest, Farley, I probably would've kissed you way sooner then if I had done that," Bucky said with a winning grin, "a helluva lot sooner. Coming and finding you." Kennedy watched him, her eyes shining as she let out a laugh.

"You found me." she whispered back and Bucky couldn't seem to help the grin on his face as he came to cup her cheeks.

"I'd see you at the flying club," Bucky whispered, softly pressing his lips to her nose, "dancing and drinking and twirling and singing….." Kennedy watched him from right there across from him, inches from his face. "I've always liked you, Kenny."

"Always?"

"Always." Bucky said, "Back when you were my waist gunner - you always had that confident look in your eye, I knew you could probably shoot better than the rest of the guys, and you sure as hell were one tough nut to crack and I…you're just always in the back of my mind, ya know?"

"John Egan." Kennedy whispered, reaching up to loop her fingers into his hair and trace down the sides of his face, "I don't deserve you."

"You're telling me," Bucky whispered, "I don't deserve an ounce of you, but here we are and I feel like the luckiest man in the world. Fuck." Kennedy watched him and continued this gentle touch along his head, with the most genuine, soft look in her eyes.

"Telling my parents that the man I'm in love with is a Yankees fan-" Bucky's heart pounded. She continued talking, but he missed whatever else she had just said. His thoughts honed in on her first sentence.

That word.

"What?" Bucky said quietly, looking at her fully, his smile gone, his eyes bright, "What'd you say?"

"I'm gonna have to tell my parents that you're a Yankees fan - and my brothers! They're gonna-"

"No, no," Bucky whispered quietly, a smile growing on his cheeks as he softly pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling back, "the other thing. The other part of that." Kennedy stared at him and then let out a soft chuckle.

"I'm in love with a Yankees fan."

"Who is me?"

"Who is you."

"And who you love?"

"For quite some time." Kennedy whispered, her eyes glossy, "I don't tell people about much more than what you can see of me, much less what's inside of me. You know more than what my mother might know." Bucky chuckled against her lips and pressed another kiss there, holding her there so deeply and strongly, he didn't want to let go.

"What I'm trying to say without it sounding all over the place," Kennedy whispered as he pulled back, "is that I'm in love with you and that I love you." Bucky watched her, smirking, so widely, so genuinely, so proudly, that if they weren't here, he didn't know what he'd do with words like that. He had a few ideas, but he was so focused on her right now that he couldn't think straight.

"I'm really fucking in love with you, too, Kenny," he whispered, his free hand on her bare skin on her back pressing against her and making a small whimper escape her lips as he sighed pleasantly, "and I really want to kiss you again. For a while." Kennedy stared at him - her face was glowing, he swore to God, and she smiled. His heart pounded.

"Then kiss me, Major," she whispered against his lips, "kiss me hard."

And he did just that.

[oskea93]

✶ Whiskey (1) ✶ - John "Bucky" Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ This story will contain explicit sexual content, mentions of unwanted pregnancy/miscarriage, cursing, violence, spousal abuse. Please read at your own discretion/risk. This story is a work of fiction and simply based on the portrayal of the actors on the show. It has nothing to do with any of the real men that these actors are playing. A/N: Hello all! So, this is my second Bucky story and to say i'm a bit obsessed would be an understatement. There's just something about the way Callum Turner plays him that is... I don't even know if I have the right word to describe it. I posted a couple days ago about my idea for this fic and i've finally narrowed down my choice The OC for this story will be the new Colonel's wife at Thorp Abbotts and of course drama will ensue. I just want to point out that since this story is so heavily smut driven, i'm sorry if my writing of smut is not that great. I've never written a fic so centered on it before, so this is a bit new. If you have any suggestions or comments, just let me know! Lastly, I just want to thank everyone that's read It Had to be You. I greatly appreciate each and every one of you! If you would like to be added to the tag list, just comment your username ☺︎

Heavy breathing filled the darkened space as the distant sound of the bombs could be heard exploding on the outskirts of town. Both of us too lost in one another to care of the threat that could be dropped onto the city at any minute.

His arms wrapped tightly around my thighs, holding me down on the bed as his tongue lit a fire through my body. The whimpers slipping past my lips – begging him for mercy – our eyes meeting as he flattened his tongue against my core. My hands pulling at his messy locks, pulling as the pressure intensified as he sucked my clit.

“Oh, fuck – “ I tried pulling away – my heels digging into the mattress below.

The pleasure was something I had never felt before – my heart beating erratically as he smiled at the state I was in. “John, please.” My legs closing around his head as my walls clenched, sending me into a state of pure bliss.

My dam quickly opened, the floodgates soaking the linen sheet below as he stayed in the same position admiring his work. His hold on my legs loosened, giving me the opportunity to quickly move into a sitting position, pulling his lips onto mine. My taste on his tongue sending me into a primal state as he pulled me into his lap, the pressure building in my stomach as I take all of him, moans building in both of our throats.

“Holy fuck – “ He cursed against my lips as our hips moved in sync. The new position sending us both into an utter state of delectation.

Bruises were sure to form as his fingers dug into my hips, pulling my body harder into his as I felt him swell inside of me. His hot breath hitting my ear as my teeth pulled at his neck, no doubt to leave a noticeable mark in the morning. The friction between us was so strong as we started to reach our climax – our ragged breathing and moans probably heard through the thin walls.

My body fell limp against his as we recovered from our high – his soft lips placing butterfly kisses behind my ear.

“Pretty good, huh?” He smirked against the skin – taking my earlobe between his teeth.

I whimpered in reply – too tired but still too turned on to speak to him in a complete sentence. Talking was what got me into this position – into his rented bed – into his arms and underneath his masculine body as he made me his own...

I was the first to wake the next afternoon – my legs acting like that of a newborn fawn as I stumbled towards the bathroom. I glanced at the mangled bed as I closed the door behind me – his body barely covered by the thin sheet. “Lord, give me strength.” Whispering to myself as I looked in the mirror. My red curls in disarray – red lipstick smeared around my bruised lips. The markings he had left littered my body – small and large – thankfully low enough to be covered from the public eye. The memories of last night replaying in my mind like an old Nickelodeon – heat pooling in my stomach at the thoughts of how he made me feel – over and over – all night long.

My fingers gripping the sink as the feeling of his lips danced across my skin. His teeth pulling as he moved along my shoulder blades – his arms wrapping around my middle.

“You’re thinking too hard.” His morning voice hinting at a rasp, causing my core to throb with want and need.

The temptation to reach back and connect my lips with his was damn near impossible – my knuckles turning white as my grip on the cast-iron intensified.

“I have to go.”

The words slipping out between low moans. His hold pulling me flush against his bare body – his cock twitching against my lower back. I knew that if I turned around in that moment, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from him – from his kiss – from his Goddamn touch.

His nose nuzzled in my hair as his hand moved tantalizingly down my stomach, stopping just above the point of no return. “And if I want you to stay?”

I squirmed uncomfortably, rubbing my legs together, already wet just from his proximity.

“If you tell me to stop –“His index slowly moving over my slit. “I’ll quit and you can go on your merry way.” I leaned my head back against his shoulder as he added the middle finger, making slow strides as he hummed against my outstretched neck.

“You’re killing me.” My words slurring together.  

He smiled against my skin as his pace increased. A slew of curse words flowed through my lips, his own finally meeting mine in a heated and much needed kiss. My arm laced around his neck, pressing our faces harder together as his fingers continued their assault. I felt like I was on the verge of fainting – dropping dead from the euphoria that was coursing through my exhausted body.

My body reacted to his touch seconds later – the sticky substance running down my legs as he removed his digits. Our bodies still pressed together – both breathing as if we’d just ran a mile.

“John – “

His hooded eyes casting down as he hummed in response. I paused for a moment, my brain and heart arguing for dominance.

“Take me to bed.”

[shoshimakesstuff]

“You needed this,” he says, firm and a question at once. Something in her ribcage sings. “Couldn’t risk you not getting it.” “Getting what?” “A good kiss.” She drags her thumbnail gently across the back of his neck, the short hairs there, watches his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. “Someone else might have, couldn’t risk that, either.” x

@shoshiwrites' jo + egan — masterpost here.

[charmingsoa]

■ Bring it On Home to Me (Intro) ■ John Egan x OC Multi chapter story ⚠ Warning ⚠ This story will feature themes not appropriate for those under the age of 18 and will focus on sensitive subjects at times. Story will contain scenes of sexual content, cursing, physical and verbal abuse, substance use, cheating, miscarriage, mentions of war, etc. Warnings will be posted with each chapter. Please be advised when reading. This fic is purely fiction and has nothing to to do with the actual men of Masters of Air. A/N: Hello! So this is my first John Egan story and i'm kind of excited and nervous to display it to you all... I've never written for this character before but i've read all the amazing stories that are out there and I wanted to jump on the bandwagon. So, this story starts off a little different than most and it will actually go back in time to tell the story. Like I said, it's a little different, but I hope in a good way! I hope you all enjoy 😊

If you would like to be tagged for future updates, please let me know!

“I think that’s the last of it, mom.” I looked up from the picture, my oldest daughter staring back as she wiped a stray hair out of her face.

The house, the place where I had spent the last 50 years, now stood before me vacant and empty, echoing with the memories of a lifetime. The bare walls, once adorned with photos capturing moments from the past and present, now stared back at me, the original paint faded from where the frames had sat untouched for many years. This home had been the anchor of our family, the sanctuary where my children, grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren had all found solace and security.

I could still see it vividly in my mind's eye - my girls taking their first steps on the soft carpet of the living room, their laughter filling the air. The kitchen, with its worn wooden floors, bore witness to their growth, marked by notches on the door frame tracking their increasing heights. The backyard, a place of endless play and joy, had been the backdrop for countless family gatherings, from first day-of-school photos to prom nights and even wedding celebrations.

As I wandered through the empty rooms, memories flooded my mind - the sound of children's laughter echoing down the halls, the smell of home-cooked meals wafting from the kitchen, the sight of my grandchildren playing in the backyard as I watched from the comfort of the wraparound porch. This was more than just a house; it was a living, breathing repository of our family's history and love.

This was the home that he had promised me, the place where we had vowed to build our lives and raise our family, where we had planned to stay until the end of our days. Now, as I prepared to say goodbye to our beloved home, a mix of emotions swirled within me.

"I'm gonna get you out of here – give you a life worth living and loving in America," the soldier declared, his voice tinged with a mix of determination and allure. As he spoke, tendrils of smoke curled lazily from the cigarette between his fingers, adding to the air of mystery that surrounded him. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, bore into mine with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

Rolling my eyes in response, I stubbed out my own cigarette, the ember extinguishing with a hiss. All the soldiers were the same, I thought wryly, willing to say anything to win favor and attention, especially at the end of a long night. Despite his good looks and the faint scent of whiskey and smoke that emanated from his dress greens, I remained guarded, having heard similar promises before.

"You watch and see, little girl," he continued, leaning back in his chair, his posture exuding confidence. His thighs were spread open, a display of dominance that didn't escape my notice. "I'll buy you any kind of house you want – a farmhouse, a mansion, one on the beach."

"Mom-" Bridget's voice broke through the silence, pulling me back from the depths of my thoughts. I blinked, refocusing on the present moment, feeling her warm hand gently pressing against my back. Her touch comforting.

I turned to look at her, a concerned gaze searching mine. Her eyes, so much like her father’s, reflected a mix of worry and love. In that moment, I saw the strength and resilience that she had inherited from him.

"I'm okay, sweetheart," I reassured her, offering a faint smile to ease her concern. "Just lost in my thoughts for a moment there."

She let out a sigh as she looked over the empty home, "Daddy used to always tell Maggie and me that we wouldn’t be able to get you out of this house – even if we infested it with all the spiders in the world – you would find a way to stay," she reminisced, a hint of amusement in her voice.

A smile tugged at my lips as she continued, "He would kid us by saying that you loved this house more than you loved him, which we both knew was not true."

"Well," I smirked, "There were times when your father was not my favorite person, but he always had a way of making it up to me in the end, even if it was my fault for the argument." The intensity of our arguments, fueled by stubbornness and pride, seemed to fade in comparison to the fierce passion that ignited between us once the storm had passed.

"Do you realize that you’re a pain in my ass?” I rolled my eyes as he stood firmly in front of me. “If I wanted to cheat on you, I would have gone out and done it already, Vanessa. I could go down to George’s bar and pick any one of those hookers that hang around there – I’m sure they would be more than happy to spend a couple hours with me."

A mean smirk formed on my face as I retorted, “You haven’t lasted more than 10 minutes in over two years.” I scoffed. “Over here talking about lasting a couple hours – it's either your back or your knees that start hurting in a matter of seconds. God forbid you’re the one on the bottom.”

His eyes narrowed at my cutting remarks. “You sayin that I’m no good in bed?” he shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

“You’re the one talking about being some kind of Adonis,” I remarked, feeling my back hit the counter behind me as he crept closer. “I’m just stating the facts, sweetheart.” His tall frame towered over mine, his arms trapping me in on either side. I glared up at him with hooded eyes, while his piercing blue eyes held a hint of mischief.

“I mean, you’re okay I guess,” I replied, trying to maintain a façade of indifference despite the closeness between us.

His breath tickled my ear as he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “The way you were begging last night might say otherwise, V.” His words sent a jolt of heat through me, memories of the previous night flooding back with an intensity that left me momentarily speechless.

"Daddy made this place fun, that's for sure – it's gonna be weird not seeing him sitting in the rocking chair out front or fiddling around in his garden," Bridget remarked, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. I nodded in understanding, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily in my heart.

"Gonna be weird just not coming here period," she added, her eyes briefly meeting mine as I let out a sad sigh.

As we stood there, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of our family home, I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss creeping in. John’s presence had always been a comforting constant, his love and warmth filling every corner of this house. Without him, the home felt like an empty shell – hollow and cold.

“I think I’m gonna take one more look around- “My voice hitching in my throat. “Make sure I have everything before I turn the keys over to the realtor.”

Bridget nodded her head, her touch leaving my arm as she slowly walked towards the front door. I could hear her speaking with the real estate agent that was waiting outside, the realization that this was the end starting to dawn on me.

My eyes moved down to the picture that I clutched tightly in my hands – our young, bright smiles on display as the bulb flashed in front of us. The first photograph of us in front of our new house – the place where we promised to spend the rest of our days.

549 Timber Creek Rd.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

bucky x kit first meeting? bucky x kit first meeting. warnings: vaguely nsfw, mention of suicide

-> red.

The flight over from Greenland had been a doze for all parties concerned - after almost nine hours of travel with scarcely thirty minutes to stretch her legs at that refuel stop back in Keflavik, Kit McKenzie had no intention of calling it a night until something even remotely interesting occurred. Most of the crew seemed to have had enough of each other for one day, heading off to settle into their allocated hut. But frankly, she couldn't blame them. After so many hours of listening to Marty butchering Norwegian folk songs - not to mention Angel's clumsy recounting of Pioneer Day - she wasn't surprised that the majority had preferred to simply knock themselves out for now.

But not Kit. Now she stood at the bar in the village pub, accepting a pint with a grin as it was passed to her and nodding along as Cruikshank pointed out each familiar face as it passed, explaining to her the names she needed to know. There had never been much effort taken on her part to figure out who anyone outside of her own crew was, but it was all at once becoming important now that she actually had to report to some of these people.

"Right, so that one's Cleven, and that one's... Blakely?" She repeated, pointing to the men clustered around the large table in the corner.

"Douglass," He corrected her with a nod. Kit snapped her fingers, wagging a hand at him as she began to catch on.

"Yes. Right - thanks."

"Crank!" Another voice rang out from behind her as Kit took a sip of her beer, eyes widening slightly to peer over the rim of her glass as she turned to glance up at the intruder. "You need another drink? I'm buyin' a round." Tall, dark-haired - handsome enough that she was actually willing to admit to having noticed it. But it wasn't quite the first time she'd seen him.

"Major John Egan," She spoke up, mimicking Crank's accent and tone of deference as she raised a hand in a loose, mock salute.

"Gettin' good," Crank nudged her in approval. Egan paused, expression drooping slightly in confusion, making him look like a disconcerted puppy. It was oddly endearing, actually.

"... Scuse me?"

"Oh, yeah, just helping McKenzie here put some names to some faces," Crank straightened himself, gesturing between the pair standing before him as he spoke their introductions. "Egan, McKenzie - McKenzie, Egan."

"Kit," She nodded, holding out a hand.

He took it, shaking without hesitation. "Bucky."

They just smiled at each other for a moment, neither realising quite how long until Crank cleared his throat, seizing their attention. "I, uh... about that drink?"

"Oh, yeah, uh," Bucky glanced around for a moment, gaze landing on his own fresh pint, not yet touched. "There ya go," He smiled, holding it out to him. Crank didn't exactly appear enthusiastic, but free beer was free beer, so he took it nonetheless.

"You're, uh, you're with the new flight crew, right?" He asked, pointing to Kit. "The, uh..." Searching for the name, he snapped his fingers repeatedly, as if trying to summon the words.

"The Seraphim," Kit nodded.

"That's it. So where's the rest of you?"

She shrugged. "Most of 'em have hit the sack already... I think Yara bottled somebody over there about twenty minutes ago, which cleared out the rest, so. Yeah. Just me."

"Just you." Bucky repeated, flashing a sliver of teeth as the corner of his lip rose in a boyish, lopsided grin. He hadn't so much as spared Crank a glance since he and Kit had begun talking, so with a slight rolling of eyes he decided to clear off, the pair of them left alone at the bar.

Kit noticed him go, letting out a huff of amusement as her attention returned to the Major. She nodded towards his empty hand. "Buy you a beer?"

He grinned, shaking his head slightly. "I buy my own beer. But I will buy your next round."

She chuckled. "Deal."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It didn’t take long for them to lose count of how many beers they'd bought one another, drinking and flirting until their faces flushed red and their voices got loud. As the rest of his friends began to leave, Bucky had insisted on making her drunken introduction, swaying slightly as he presented her to the crew. Kit might have curtsied at some point - neither of them could quite remember.

What she did remember was the pair of them leaving, bumping against one another as their balance passed from foot to foot, laughter rising into the cool night air. She remembered him pausing, and her doing the same, their gazes locked. She remembered pressing her lips against his and him kissing her back, hands cupping her jaw as he sucked in a long, sharp breath. There was force in the way that he touched her, hunger, that tug that exists between intoxicated strangers as he pressed his body against hers, breaking the kiss to look down at her with that same uneven grin.

This was the way she knew - the way people connect when they have nowhere to go and nothing to offer. There'd been a junior high school farce of a 'boyfriend' years ago - so long ago that she scarcely remembered his name, just that he'd held her hand and taken her to the fair. But Kit McKenzie hadn't been someone who got more than this, here, for a long time. She expected nothing more, and wanted nothing less.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun was just rising over the horizon as she slowly blinked, regaining consciousness early the next morning. A faint hint of headache thrummed behind her eyes, the room above the pub unfolding around her in peaceful quiet, the sound of another's breathing echoing just out of sync with her own. The bed sheets were warm and soft against her bare chest, and Kit felt the distinct urge to tug the duvet up over her head and burrow into the cotton cocoon, if only to steal away a few extra hours of sleep. How long had it been since she'd sunk into a mattress this comfortable? Years - if ever.

Bucky let out a groan as he too began to gradually rouse himself, his arm draped across her back as he instinctively rubbed his knuckle up and down along her spine, hand so warm that she didn't even flinch. "Mornin'," He uttered, voice foggy with sleep, but she could hear the smile in his tone. Turning her head away from the window, Kit spared him a glance, rubbing at her eye with the hell of her palm.

"Hey."

"Y'alright?"

"Mhm."

Their words came dry, tired - dull with exhaustion and soft with calm. He was staring at her, those brown eyes round and shining like a damn baby deer, his smile so gentle that it made her want to choke. The blankets rustled as she rolled over and pushed herself upright, sitting with her back pressed up against the headboard, closing her eyes for a moment to soothe the throbbing in her temples. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment, nor movement to cover herself, and Bucky found himself too struck with admiration to even bother gazing at the body he'd spent all night pressed up against.

"Tell me something," He huffed, pushing himself up on his elbow only to flop onto his back, dark hair ruffled against the pillow. "About you."

Kit chuckled dryly. "About me? Like what?"

"Oh, Jesus, I dunno," Bucky threw up a hand, letting out a huff. "... What does your old man do?"

"My old man?" She teased.

"First thing I thought of," He shrugged. "C'mon."

"Alright. He was a grape farmer."

He fell quiet then, the mischievous smile that had creased his cheeks fading slightly. Was. "He died?"

Kit snorted. "He shot himself, is what he did. Lost his job after the crash, spent two years lookin' for a new one, then gave up - happened more than you'd think."

The flippancy with which she'd announced it startled him for a moment, her expression unwaveringly placid as she recounted the event. She raised her hands to her face, using both thumbs to push her hair back behind her ears.

"Shit, hey, I'm-"

"God, please don't apologise - It was ages ago, and last time I checked you didn't have anything to do with it."

Bucky nodded, pushing himself up to sit beside her. "Alright."

"Well, now you gotta tell me somethin'."

"Well..." He furrowed his brow as if thinking intensely. "I'm a big fan of baseball. And unicorns. And-"

"Shut the fuck up," Kit burst into laughter, her cheeks reddening in a way that made him smile. "You can't gimme that after all this, that's not fair!"

"I don't know what to tell you, I'm a simple guy," Bucky grinned, chuckling.

She rolled her eyes, the ghost of a laugh still etched on her face as she glanced at the clock on the nightstand, a jolt of panic suddenly overtaking her expression. "Shit!"

"What?"

"It's past five-thirty, I gotta go," Kit scurried off the bed, scrounging to gather her clothes and re-dress. He didn't move for a moment, before realising this meant he had to go too, and soon they were both scrambling to remake their appearances from the night before, Kit combing the knots out of her hair with her fingers as Bucky fumbled to button up his shirt.

"Ok, I'm out," She huffed, streaking across the room towards the door and tugging it open.

"See ya 'round!" His voice called after her as she stepped out into the hall. From there, he couldn't see the way her expression drooped, the colour draining from her cheeks as she turned towards the stairs. He couldn't see the way her shoulders momentarily tensed, an unspoken promise that yes, he would see her again - but it wouldn't be like this. That was much too real for the likes of Kit McKenzie.

But dammit, it sure would've been nice if it wasn't.