#Curt x Dickie

[alouiadina]

Y'know, it kinda sucks being someone who doesn't have the focus/time to learn to properly draw. I would love to draw fanart in relation to the stuff I've written, but all I can do is stick figures.

[darkimpala1897]

Buck: "You know Bucky, mistook you for a cow earlier."

Curt: "I've been called worse."

Later....

Curt: "You mistook me for a cow, how did you manage that one?"

Bucky: "I'm sorry okay, I was slightly drunk."

Curt: "Slightly? Dickie do I look like a cow to you?"

Dickie not wanting to get in the middle of this girl fight, just perfectly mimics a cow. Curt frustratingly throws his hat at him.

[froggesodaaddict]

Afterwards

Bromance/romance drabble

Curt x Dickie

Curt had always been right. No matter how many times Dickie thought he lied or had miscalculated, that was never the case. His intuition- no- his gut feelings were never wrong.

It was the same case then. In the heat of the moment. 

“I’m gonna get you down safely Dickie!” He slurred over the loud rattle of the plane. 

Dickie, bloody and hot, could hardly comprehend what he was saying. A seashell phenomenon was ringing in his ears, the sound of his blood rushing and pumping resounding so clearly. He turned his blurry gaze sideways. He could make out muffled voices, sounding distant.

Curt hadn’t left yet. Dickie wasn’t sure why. The plane was hurdling downwards. 

“…See that long green field?” Curt asked, leaning over slightly, patting Dickie gently. 

The blood felt warm and his head felt dizzy. He couldn’t muster any words of protest. I just wanna sleep, Curt. You should leave, Curt.

Not a single word. Biddick was wrong for once. Dickie knew it. He stared hard, lethargically, as the ground drew closer and the vision of death became clearer.

Please leave Curt. Please go. 

Curt stayed with him. Dickie, blurred as his vision was, would sense something was wrong. 

“Oh god.”

Curt was never wrong. Dickie stared up at the blue sky, marbled by how strong of a pigment it had. His back spasmed painfully. He could hardly move. 

His head rolled to the side, just enough that he could see Curt. He hadn’t spoken in a while. 

There he was.

Deformed. Like a mangled angel. Dickie wanted to wipe the blood off of his brow and shake him awake, but he could even wipe his own ass.

Please wake up. Please wake up. 

Dickie felt a pair of hands, weak and shaking, grip him by the collar and begin dragging him out of the plane. Down the hall. Through the open bunker door. 

Go get Curt. 

“Christ- Christ- Christ—”

The explosion was quick and painless. Dickie closed his eyes and refused to open them. He couldn’t hear anything anymore. His brain, on autopilot, played a sound to soothe him. An accent, of course. The last words he could make out. 

“I’m gonna get you down safely, Dickie!”

Curt was an idiot… but he was right. He had gotten him down safely; somewhat safely, anyway. Dickie coughed up a heap of blood.

“Come on Dick, don’t die on me just yet,” said the unfamiliar voice. Dickie had the sense that he should know this person. He should be able to open his eyes and recognize him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Another chest-heaving amount of blood. He wondered, angrily to himself, why he was still alive. He would question that a lot. Guilty for bleeding out on some oppressed family’s guest bed, he wracked his brain for reasons why he had lived but his friend had not. 

At night, when there was nothing but his blood tingling his ears and the deafening sound of silence, he could hear Curt’s thick accent in his head. Over and over, repeating the same phrase that he last remembered. I’m gonna get you down safely, Dickie!

Curt wasn’t religious, and neither was he, but Dickie couldn’t help but hope, and pray, that they would somehow see each other again. He wished the pain in his back and neck would go away. He wished he hadn’t survived the freak accident that was supposed to kill him. He wished Curt had been wrong for once. If only he had died right then and there, and Biddick had failed to get him down safely. 

He managed to roll his head to the side. Curt was right there beside him. He wasn’t mangled and battered anymore… just peaceful. Perfect. 

Dickie closed his eyes again. He never opened them again. 

[alienoresimagines]

*During the Regensburg mission*

Bucky : How are the stragglers looking down there ?

Crank : *closes his eyes in annoyance*

Crank : Bucky, I swear, if you ask one more time how Buck is doing, I'm kicking you middair out of my plane and into his so you can look for yourself.

Bucky, with hope in his eyes : You'd do that for me ? 🥺

[josieb100]

This is going to sound really stupid but I have to post it as I need it written down. I’m a Stargate Atlantis long time (obsessed) fan, been reading fan fiction exclusively for that show for years, until Masters of the Air. Now imagine this…..

One day Atlantis is just going out its normal day when Chuck notices something strange on the scanners. They send Major Lorne out in a jumper to investigate. As he get close, and can’t quite believe what he sees, he cloaks the jumper. What Lorne sees is a flight of B17’s. Damaged B17’s. Cue Radek and Chuck trying to get them on the radio. Turns out they are from the Schweinfurt–Regensburg Raid and are trying to make it to Algeria, they have no idea where they are, the compasses aren’t working, they should be over land but suddenly all they see is sea, they have wounded on board and are running out of fuel.

Atlantis manages to make contact and tells them the only land for hundreds of miles is the city and they can land on the piers. Curt’s Fort is still with them, trailing behind, Dickie is still alive and the rest of the crew managed to bail out over land, which was there one minute and gone the next, so as they are now over sea Curt is just tying to keep them in the air.

Anyway they all land okay, Beckett, Keller, Biro and the rest of the medical team patch everyone up. Dickie goes straight into theatre. Colonel Shepard is now stuck not knowing what to say as it appears the Forts have traveled through a hole in time and space. No they can’t contact their base or the 12th in Algeria.

The only thing Atlantis can do is contact Stargate Command (Earth) and ask for the records showing what happened to each man and plane. If they landed in Algeria when they should have then Rodney McKay, Radek and team find a way to send the B17’s and crews back the way they came, if however the records show all the crews MIA from that raid then they never go home.

Of course it’s more awkward for Dickie and Curt as saving Dickie probably means more surgery than they would have had access to in 1943 so it looks like Curt and Dickie are definitely stuck in the future.

And what if they did go home, and they took a letter written by Rodney, which they gave to Chick Harding who managed to get to Catherine Langford after the war, who passed it onto General Hammond, who passed it onto Samantha Carter so she at least knew they were coming, but didn’t know exactly when?

Anyway, I’m not a writer, I am just a bit obsessed with this blend of these two shows. I have a whole story in my mind.

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 2

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Gory descriptions of injuries, angst, plane crash, cheesy behaviour.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Masterlist Part 1 Part 3

x x x

Pain and heat was all you could feel. The plane had nose dived into the dirt, its impact sending chunks of metal and glass through the air in a fireball explosion. The seat you had braced your body against was torn to shreds and regretfully the planes two pilots had perished in the destruction.

But you were thrown from the wreckage upon impact, soaring through the sky like a damn eagle, body harshly landing in the dirt with debris falling down around you. Your head hurt, blood pouring from your hair as your brain beat against your fractured skull. Lacerations, broken bones, bruises and burns adorned your body like a twisted form of art. You were sure you would be screaming if you could, the pain throughout your body being too much to bear but it was stuck in your throat, only a few tears escaping as you willed yourself to move even just a finger.

You were alive, unsure of how long that would remain with the injuries you had sustained in the middle of enemy territory.

Curt was dead, and Dickie.

Before events had taken a turn for the worst for your crew, you had seen other planes exploding in the sky, some falling from the air trailing fire and smoke.

You hoped the rest made it to their destination, you hoped Gale and your John weren’t suffering your same fate.

Picturing his face brought you a semblance of peace. Your pain fading as your skin tingled, feeling the rough finger tips of your Johns hands running over your skin to soothe your aches and worries. For a moment you cursed the forces that had brought you together only recently, an unlikely pair but very likely all together; the quiet girl who had learned all of her lessons the hard way falls in love with the rambunctious, handsome Major who refuses to settle down. Any thought of settling down with John would just be a fairytale now, one that only the stars would know. Your heart aches and for a moment you are unsure if it’s caused by your injuries or the thought of him receiving the news of this tragedy, losing his friends and his love in one foul swoop would undoubtedly break that good mans heart.

Your flight to England had been more eventful than it was meant to be, the plane carrying you and a few other nurses had to make an unexpected stop in Greenland after engine troubles

The pub you had found yourself in was mostly empty, a few soldiers sat at the bar and the ladies you were travelling with were sitting on one of the sofas while you sat at a table in the corner. It wasn’t that you hated social interaction, listening to the ladies chat excitedly about traveling to England and all the handsome soldiers they could potentially meet was all they ever talked about and you had already received your harsh dose of the realities of war. Going to England only meant you were one step closer to brutality and destruction.

You glanced as the door opened, expecting the pilot of your plane but finding a small flock of soldiers- judging by their lamb skin coats they were pilots of some kind.

As the last one entered, he shut the door behind him, softly nudging the sticky bottom hinge with his heavy boot before he turned to take in the cozy pub. As his eyes scanned the room they stopped on yours, holding eye contact with his deep grey ones for as long as you let him before you glanced down toward the knife etching on the worn wood of the table top. Slowly, you lifted your head to observe the man as he approached the bartender. The small smile he wore, teasing, nearly considered a smirk seemed so natural on him. Upon removing his hat to reveal his dark hair, a few strands fell down his forehead with a curl. There was no denying that he was pretty, and you were sure he was a charmer which meant you would stay as far away from the man as possible until your pilot returned with news that the plane was fixed and ready to complete the rest of the journey.

“May I offer you another drink?” The new voice had startled you. You had been sitting in the corner for so long in your own little reverie, tracing the markings on the table that you hadn’t noticed the man approach. It was the handsome man from before, standing in front of you with two large glasses of beer and a reassuring smile.

“I’ll have to pass on the drink,” You mentally cursed yourself for this, he was handsome and you would like to talk to the man but nothing good would come from it. “I’m expecting to be back in the air any moment.”

“I’ll assume that it was your plane on the field with half an engine in pieces? I hate to break it to you sweetheart but you are going to be stuck here for quite a while longer.”

Sweetheart. You had always disliked pet names, many of them sounding sleazy coming from intoxicated soldiers but there was something about the Major that didn’t make your skin crawl when the endearing term left his lips. You had taken note of the rank and medals pinned on his jacket as he stood in front of you.

“Of course you don’t have to accept the beer but please allow me to keep a beautiful woman such as yourself a little bit of company.”

The Major had sat for hours at your table, finishing both beers himself and bringing you a tonic when he snuck off to the bar for another drink. He had been sharing stories of his time in training, seeming to cause some sort of trouble every step of the way and when your sweet laughter was thwarted by the appearance of the pilot reporting the plane would very soon be ready to go, John felt the overwhelming need to see your bright smile one last time.

“Stay for one more song?” He had asked, his eyes shining from the pub lights and his intoxication. “You haven’t heard me sing yet.”

“You can sing?” You questioned sceptically, backing up in your chair as the man quite suddenly climbed onto the small table top. You heard him request a song from one of the other men, avoiding the unappreciative stare of the bar owner while he waited for the song to play.

“We’ll meet again,

Don’t know where,

Don’t know when,

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

His rendition of the Vera Lynn song was very much more loud and boisterous, using his volume and enthusiasm to drown out her voice from the jukebox. You grinned up at him as he jumped off the table, reaching toward the Narwhal Tusk displayed on the wall. The soldiers sung along with him as he used the tusk as a microphone, tossing it from one hand to the other when the bar owner tried to reclaim it. You watched from your seat as he hopped up onto one of the sofas, skipping along the cushions before he leaped onto the next to evade his pursuer.

“So will you please say Hello, To the folks that I know. Tell them I wont be long, They’ll be happy to know, That you saw me go, I was singing this song.”

The soldiers lifted the Major above their heads until his boots landed on the nicely polished bar top. Many of the men had drank their weight in liquor in the past few hours and were enjoying the performance just as much as the Major was performing it.

“We’ll meet again, Don’t know where, Don’t know when, But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

John finished his performance with the Narwal tusk held to the top of his head as if he were a unicorn to mock the bars owner who had yet to catch him in the small, crowded space. He smiled at you, so big, bright and proud, making it was impossible to hold back your laughter at the downright silly behaviour the handsome man had displayed for you.

“Alright you’ve had your fun. Give me that!” The bartender pulled the tusk from Johns grip, sending him a stern look as he warned him to remove himself from the pub before he filed a formal complaint against the officer. John followed the angry bar owners orders, sending you a wink while he grabbed his hat and flight jacket from the hook beside the door as left the pub.

You found him waiting outside, leaning against the wall, hoping he would catch you on your way out.

“That was quite the performance, Major.” You complimented.

He grinned, flicking up the brim of his hat to better inspect your features, now that you were outside in better lighting. Still undeniably beautiful. “It wasn’t too much?”

“I mean it was a little over the top. Was breaking that poor mans prized Narwhal tusk necessary?”

“Narwhal Tusk? I thought that was a unicorn horn.” He joked, extending his arm for you to take. “Why don’t I walk you back to your plane?”

“I think I’d like that Major Egan.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

“How many of us made it?”

“Eleven out of twenty one?

“What about Clayton? Any chutes?”

Gale sighed, thinking about all the men they had lost. “I didn’t see any.”

“Yeah.” John paused, feeling his heart pounded in his chest, afraid to ask his next question. “And Curt?”

“I don’t know.”

[blakelysco-pilot]

You Go To My Head

Beat Me, Daddy, Eight To The Bar: Part One

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

She's an American Red Cross Clubmobile girl, and he's the Flyboy with the Lucky Strike tucked behind his ear. Fate has a funny way of intervening- and Fate's name just happens to be Curt Biddick.

Follow along with the Eight To The Bar Playlist

When Captain Everett Blakely landed Just-A-Snappin on the Thorpe Abbotts airfield, he knew two things. The first, was that it had been a fucking haul from Greenland. All he wanted was a drink, and to collapse into whatever the base was passing off as a bed. The second, was that the pretty brunette with the striking green eyes offering him a choice of coffee or whiskey upon entry to the Interrogation Hut, was someone he wanted to know. 

Valencia DiRosano. Val, for short, was a Red Cross Clubmobile girl who also moonlighted as a secretary for Chick Harding when he needed someone to take notes or type up his reports with a little extra speed. She was kind, but a real New Yorker with the mouth to back it up; so it came as no surprise to him when he found her laughing at the bar with Curt Biddick. Childhood friends, he had come to learn on the morning of their first mission. He had watched, amused, as Biddick jumped into the Clubmobile and attempted to fix his own coffee, but not before Val gave him a hearty shove out the back door and onto solid ground. 

“You’ve been here less than a week, Curt. Do I have to write your Mother already?”

“Aw come on Val!” He was holding a carafe of the coffee in one hand, leaning back inside the Red Cross truck. “We’ve been friends since the sandbox, doll face! Please!”  

“Curt, you step back on this truck and you’ll be in the med bay before you even see the inside of your plane.” She scowled, green eyes narrowed at him as she snatched the carafe from his hand. 

“Killjoy.” He sighed, winking up at her as she handed him a cup of coffee, no doubt, fixed the way he liked it. 

Blakely was shaking his head as he approached the Clubmobile, smiling up at Val as she offered him coffee that he didn’t hesitate to accept. She was always armed with a smile, and some days he felt she saved one especially for him, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that. 

“He’s a pain in my ass.” She had offered by way of greeting that morning. 

“Dickie would probably sympathize with you, ma’am.” He grinned, hazel eyes fixed on her own green. 

“Oh, don’t I know it,” she shook her head. “And you can call me Val, Captain.”

“Then it’s only fair if you drop the formalities as well.” A teasing lilt to his reply. 

She shook her head at him, but leaned forward towards him, her torso now fully outside the open hatch she was serving the Airmen from. 

She’d be lying to herself if said she hadn’t been attracted to him since the minute she saw him. Striking hazel eyes, a finely trimmed mustache over his upper lip, and perfectly styled hair. The latter two seemed to be a requirement for Flyboy’s, she had noted. And he always had a cigarette tucked behind his ear should he need it. 

Pinching a donut between two fingers, she allowed her face to get just a bit closer to his, before she offered it to him with a wink. 

“Safe flight, Captain Blakely.”

“Val.” He grinned, plucking the offered snack from between her red manicured nails, before tipping his crush cap at her and heading towards the truck where his crew was waiting. 

Dougie already liked to give him a hard time whenever he was caught ogling her at the Silver Wings Club from across the room. He no doubt had seen the exchange between the pair, because when Everett slid into the spot next to him on the truck, the bombardier wasted no time in letting him have it. 

“You two set a date yet?”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m your best friend,” Douglass elbowed him. “I’m supposed to be a pain in your ass.”

“Lucky me.” Blakely groaned, taking a sip of his coffee. 

He wouldn’t tell anyone, but it was the best damn cup of coffee he’d had in months and he was sure it had everything to do with the woman who had made it for him. 

When he returned from that first mission, Bremen, she was waiting in the Interrogation Hut just like the day he had first descended on the air field. Armed with coffee and whiskey, she spotted him as soon as he came through the door. He wasn’t sure, but he could swear the smile on her face that she was offering to all the boys stretched just a bit wider when she clocked him. 

“Captain.” 

“Val.” He grinned, fingers sliding around the rim of the whiskey glass she was holding out to him. 

“Nice to see you safely on the ground.” 

“Well, it’s nice to be on the ground again.” 

Douglass was behind him, pushing him along to their designated area so that they could get this part over with as quickly as possible. It was one thing to be up there getting hammered with flak while praying for your life, but to have to relive it so that The Brass could get all the details straight, was the worst possible version of deja vu. 

“Right, I need to uhh…”

“No, of course,” She nodded, picking up one of the coffees and handing it to Buck Cleven who had just walked in with John Egan. The Major looked positively rattled, and when she went to offer him a whiskey instead, Major Egan intercepted it for himself.

“He doesn’t drink.” Blakely whispered to her, answering the silent question on the tip of her tongue. 

Val nodded in understanding before offering both Major’s a smile, watching as they moved further into the room. Then she turned back to Everett, giving him a gentle nudge towards where the rest of his crew was currently sitting. 

“Go on, I’ll see you later. I’ve got to clean up here.” She had smiled at him as she began moving around the room to pick up the empty glasses. 

“Blakely!” It was Colonel Harding, and he was standing in that way he often did, with his hands planted on his hips, and eyes narrowed in his direction. 

Quickly shaking himself from his fog, he moved towards the empty chair next to Douglass, silently begging his friend not to say a word. At least not with the rest of their crew around. 

They had been in Interrogation longer than he wanted to be there; the mission had been scrubbed, and Harding had wanted all the details. The how, why and when. But it was never the who that they focused on for too long. The who being the fellas who had died up there, whose blood was currently being washed out of the inside of the forts that made it back. Whos mothers didn’t know it yet, but were going to receive a letter from Major John Egan expressing his deepest sympathies for the loss of their son. His fort had been lucky, making it back to Thorpe Abbotts in one piece, and while he wanted to take the time to acknowledge that, he knew that his mind wouldn't let him. He would have to acknowledge the lost, and the broken pieces of this first flight before he could move on. 

Leaving the Equipment Hut, he found Curt exiting the base Hospital. The stocky, former Brooklyn boxer looked slightly stunned, and when Everett made eye contact, the pilot gave a nod, before changing course to walk alongside him. 

“You good?” Blakely spoke first, eyes cutting to the hospital they had just left in their rear view. 

“Yea, wanted to check on Dickie.” 

Dickie would have normally been in the co-pilot seat next to Biddick, but with Major Cleven riding with Biddick’s crew on this flight, Dickie had been down in the tail gun. 

“What happened up there?”

“Frostbite,” Curt sighed. “Grabbed the tail gun without gloves on.”

“Jesus, he alright?”

“Smokey said it ain’t too bad, but could be a few weeks before he’s back in the seat.”

“Well, better frostbitten than dead I suppose.”

“Yea…” Curt trailed off. “How ‘bout you boys? Yous all make it back in one piece?”

“For the most part, physically at least.”

“Yea, I hear that.”

They walked silently towards the Officers Hut, the only thing on Blakely’s mind at the moment; a hot shower and change of clothes. He supposed that most of the fellas would make their way to the Silver Wings Club later in the evening, so long as the red light stayed the hell off and let them be. He hoped he wouldn't have to see it blinking again this week, but this was war, and it just didn’t sound promising. 

Just as he was about to pull the door open to their nissen hut, Curt stopped him, hand pushing the door closed and forcing them both to stop walking. 

“French 75.”

“You asking me to buy you a drink, Curt?” He raised an eyebrow at the shorter man. 

“Val’s drink is a French 75.” 

“I’m almost afraid to ask…”

“I ain’t blind.” Curt shook his head. 

“I thought maybe Dougie tipped you off.”

“Oh, he did,” Curt winked, and Blakely couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. “But I also seen yous two by the Clubmobile this morning, and she almost sent poor Tattie flyin to give you a drink back there.”

“How come you uh…how come you and her never got together?”

“Nah, I love her to pieces but not like that.” 

 He nodded, understanding exactly what Curt meant when he said that. 

“Okay then…”

“B’sides, you heard her. I’m a pain in her ass.”  Curt grinned wildly, and Blakely could see that he was proud to be Val’s very own pain in the ass. It was the same type of smile that Douglass gave him when he bestowed him with the very same compliment. 

“Yea, she did mention that.” He shook his head. 

“C’mon, let's go, I stink of fuel.” 

By the time the band was playing, the Silver Wings Officers Club was filled with Airmen, and a mix of Red Cross and local women who had been invited by some of the pilots and crew. It was a hearty blend of people, and it wasn’t long before the dance floor was filled with couples. 

Val was sitting with Helen and Tattie, the trio partaking in their favorite activity when they weren’t working: people watching. Discreetly, from behind their martini glasses, they would observe the goings on of the club, and who was doing what. It was also a subtle way for them to learn a little more about the men so that they could chat to them as they left for a mission. 

“Wait, but she was seeing Egan last week!” Tattie spoke in a hushed voice. Even with the band playing, she didn’t want anyone hearing her. They were currently fixed on a local East Anglia girl who had been seen around the club before, most recently with Major Egan, but none of the women could remember her name. 

“I guess she’s seeing Dye now.” Val sniggered from behind her drink. 

“I heard he had the clap.” Helen chimed in. 

“Egan!?” Val’s eyes went wide. 

“No, Dye.”

“No! From who!” 

“I don’t know who gave it to him!” Helen rolled her eyes. 

“Not who gave it to him,” Tattie sighed. “Who did you hear it from?”

“Funny enough, John Egan.”

“I wonder how true it is, then,” Val shook her head, taking a sip of her drink. “He’s probably just sore over losing her to Dye.” 

“Well, Flyboy’s are like that.” 

“Not all Flyboy’s are filthy, Tattie.” Helen groaned. 

“No, you’re right,” Tattie grinned. “Val’s seems like a gentleman.”

Helen and Tattie were both bearing bright grins in her direction, and all she could do was roll her eyes as she drained the last of her drink. 

“You two are incorrigible.”

“So you weren’t flirting with Captain Blakely this morning? Helen leaned across the table at her.

“I was doing my job.”

“And this afternoon, in Interrogation, was your job to almost mow me down to get to him? Tattie raised an eyebrow at her. 

“You were in my way, Tat…”

“Well then,” She grinned. “If he’s not your Flyboy, then I don’t know why he’s making his way over here with a drink in each hand.”

When she looked over to where Tattie’s gaze was focused, sure enough, there was Captain Everett Blakely, striding across the room towards their table, with a martini glass in one hand, and his whiskey in the other. She couldn’t very well hide the smile on her face as he approached, and knew that when she finally retreated to the women’s hut later that night, both Helen and Tattie would be there to pull every detail from her before they fell into their own beds. 

“Ladies,” Blakely grinned, gaze landing on both of Val’s companions, before finally settling on her. “Val.” 

“Captain Blakely.” She grinned, their game of formalities causing him to roll his eyes with a smile. 

“Are we still doing that?” He asked. “This is hardly a formal setting.”

“Everett…” She allowed his first name to slip past her lips just the once, and watched as his eyes lit up at hearing her say it. “Are you drinking for two tonight?”

“Do you think so little of me that I would?”

“Oh, so that one’s for Douglass?” She teased. 

“Actually, it’s for you. French 75, right?” He offered her the martini glass in his left hand, their fingers brushing as she accepted it from him. Just like they had that afternoon as she handed him his whiskey. She couldn’t help it. She could feel her cheeks warming up at the simple gesture and hoped that her rouge would hide it. She wasn’t sure she’d be that lucky, however, as his warm gaze was trained entirely on her. 

“And who told you that?” 

“Let’s just call them a reliable source.” He nodded, lifting his own glass to his lips, though she didn’t miss his grin. 

She’d barely noticed Tattie and Helen slipping away from the table, the former immediately snatched up by James Douglass for a dance, while Helen; well, she wasn’t sure where she disappeared off to. Had her friends given her up that easily to him? Surely it hadn’t been Curt; he was everything a protective big brother should be, minus the bloodline. She couldn’t imagine her childhood friend willingly offering up any sort of information to a potential suitor. She knew better than anyone what he was like back home any time they had doubled with his flavor of the month and someone she met that wasn’t entirely turned off by her friendship with another man. 

She’d resolve to find out who the reliable source was, but for now, she was intent on enjoying the company of the man who still stood in front of her. 

“Would you like to join me?” She looked up at him through her lashes, red lips stretched wide with a smile just for him. 

“I’d love to,” he returned the smile, and with a grace she hadn’t known a man to possess, ever, slid into the seat to her left. “Besides, what kind of person would I be if I left you here alone?”

“Not a very good one, I suppose.” 

“Exactly, and my mother raised a gentleman.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank her then,” Val teased from behind her glass. “There are so few of you left.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky then, to be a gentleman worthy of your time.”

“You’re a flirt, Captain Blakely.”

“Are we back to the formalities?” He sighed, arms outstretched on the table in front of him, body slightly slouched in his seat. 

“I’m only joking,” her hand fell to his arm, and she couldn’t help but admire the ropes of muscle she felt beneath the fabric of his uniform jacket. “But you are a flirt.”

“Do you see me flirting with anyone else here?” 

That had her caught in his gaze, so much so that she barely noticed Curt striding into the room, and Helen intercepting him at the bar. She was sure that had he noticed her, he’d have skidded over to her and Blakely in such a state, demanding a dance with his best friend, that it would leave the Captain stunned and so put off, he’d never speak to her again. 

“Val?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” shaking her head to dismiss the thoughts, she focused back on Everett, and how her hand was still resting on his forearm. “I promise it’s not you.”

His gaze softened, his head immediately turning from her to survey the room, trying to pinpoint exactly what, or who, had caused her the momentary distress. 

“There’s someone in here you're trying to avoid.” He didn’t question it, so much as come out with it directly. 

“Not avoid, per say…” she sighed. “But, I’m enjoying your company, and Curt just walked in and he has a habit of, well…”

“Being Curt?” He supplied a helpful smile. 

“Driving away any man I’m interested in.” She had said the last part so quietly, head ducked down, that he strained to hear it. 

“What was that?” His thumb and index finger gently cradled her chin, lifting her face back up towards him. His eyes were boring into her, hazel locked on green, and she couldn’t pull herself away even if she wanted to. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Curt and I grew up together.”

“Yea, I heard it mentioned once or twice.”

“Our mom’s got close when we were kids; we lived in the same building growing up, and they’d usually toss us in the sandbox or let us run around the garden while they gossiped. So, Curt and I became like siblings.”

“Go on…”

“And like all good siblings, and in true big brother fashion, he likes to embarrass me in front of anyone I’m with.”

“Well, I’m not deterred by Curt Biddick.” He grinned, giving her jaw a gentle pinch with his two fingers before pulling back.

“It’s why I stick to the formalities with you…”

“Well, if it’s not too bold of an ask; unless you really need to, I’d prefer you call me Everett. Or Ev. Whichever suits you.”

“Okay…” 

“Now, can I be bold once more?” He was trying to get her to crack another dazzling smile, and he’d be damned if the night ended before he succeeded. 

“You’re pushing your luck, Everett.” 

“There she is,” he grinned. “Could I have this dance?”

“I’d love nothing more.” She smiled, watching as he stood before gently taking her hands to guide her from her chair. 

Drinks forgotten for the time being, Valencia allowed Captain Everett Blakely to lead her out onto the crowded dance floor. When he found a suitable spot, he gently twirled her before pulling her body close to his. His hands were warm, but not overly so, and she found that as one rested gently on the small of her back and the other held hers, that it was a comforting feeling she had been missing for quite some time. Not even dancing with Curt made her feel so at ease, and that normally would have worried her. Something about Everett Blakely and his warm hazel eyes pulled her in, and made her want to stay in his embrace for as long as possible. As he swayed them gently, his warm breath fanning across her cheek caused her to look up, her head lifting from where she was resting it on his shoulder, her gaze meeting his.

“Hell of a song.” He spoke softly, words just for them to hear. 

She hadn’t noticed what the band was playing until he said it, the tune of You Go To My Head filling the club. 

“Appropriate, don’t you think?” 

“Absolutely,” his hand resting on her back pulled her just that much closer, the pins on his uniform catching on the button of her Red Cross jacket, but neither seemed to mind. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I landed last week.”

“Is that so?” Her hand that had been resting gently on his shoulder had somehow wrapped around him, her fingers finding a home in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Think you might like to stay there a while longer?” 

“Just a while?”

“As long as you like, sweetheart. I want to know everything about you.” 

“Well, I’d say you’re off to a good start.” She whispered, her head moving back to his shoulder as the band moved into another song. Neither making any effort to part. 

Neither of them saw it, but Curt was watching from the bar with a proud grin on his face. 

Part Two

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Blakely & Val, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @precious-little-scoundrel

[hbowartournament]

pairing polls round one:

(there is still time to submit your favorite pairing. see my pinned post)

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 8

james douglass x olive lewis

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

masterlist ao3 olive's playlist

notes: a little heavy petting 🤭

Something big is brewing on base, the Brass keeping their cards close to their chest. The Red Cross Girls navigate their way through revelations, chance meetings and feelings from the past that rear their ugly head.

Despite the very few hours of sleep she had gotten, the sun rising over the beautiful Suffolk fields as the gang had all congregated in the cool morning air in celebration of no longer being a fractured bunch, Olive felt refreshed. 

The group had left the club in the early hours to see the sun rise, telling each other that the lack of sleep would be worth it. The gang, joined by Curt’s co-pilot Dickie, sat on the surprisingly soft grass of the airfield in a gentle silence. The sweet countryside air whipped all around them, Olive finding warmth tucked inside of Dougie’s jacket, his arm around her as she snuggled into him. She laid her head on his shoulder, him smiling as she stroked his face. The fiery hues of the morning sky brought out the beautiful blue of his eyes, Olive practically falling into them as the two of them seemed to slip into their own little world. It was at this moment she realized; she was falling in love with him. It had hit her like a freight train, the thought causing her to gasp out loud.

“Okay, doll?” James asks, holding her even closer to ward off the cold.

“Never better, honey.”

—

The early start came with the beginnings of a headache from lack of sleep. However, Olive found herself extremely peppy for this time of the morning. She, along with Tattie, had gone about most of their morning duties occasionally exchanging quiet conversation and Tattie preparing herself for her impending hangover. “It doesn't knock you on your ass if you don't go to sleep,” she laughs, wincing at the sound of her own voice. 

“You didn't sleep? Jesus Christ, Spaatz. You mad bugger.”

“There was no point,” she replies, beginning to daintily arrange donuts on a tray. “By the time I'd have got myself into bed, it would have been time to get up again. There,” she says, placing the tray on the counter. She lights two cigarettes, handing one to Olive before pouring them a cup of coffee each. “This'll perk us up, kid.”

A bark echoes through what feels like the whole air base, Olive and Tattie both jumping at the sound of it. “Hold on to your hats,” Tattie smiles. “Here comes trouble.”

“Oh, yeah! He's brought Meatball with him too!”

Benny strolls up to the Clubmobile alongside Meatball, stifling a yawn as he approaches. 

“Demarco!” she cheerfully greets, pouring him a coffee before he even has a chance to ask. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Meatball was crying for the bathroom, then I saw Lemmons while we were out there. Said he needed me to look over something on Our Baby.”

“Ah,” she nods. “Leave the good boy here with me. It seems pretty easy out here today, so it's no bother.”

“Thanks, Ol. Hey, everything worked out now?”

“Oh, yes,” she blushes. “Everything smoothed over. What about you?” she enquires, eyebrow raised. “You set him straight?”

“Too right. I made it clear that it's only him you care for in that way. I told him that if he thinks he saw what he thought he saw, he should've asked me; I also told him that if he ever made you cry again, he'd pay for it. He got a little sheepish at that.”

“Christ,” she whispers, shaking her head in amusement.

“Hey, no hard feelings. We shook hands, back to being pals. No harm done.”

“Well, if you say so. Here,” she says, placing another two cups of coffee and a few donuts in front of him. “One for you, the coffees and other donuts are for Kenny and Wink.”

“Thanks. Run over and grab me if the dog is too much trouble.”

He turns on his heel and departs, Meatball barking incessantly as his person walks away from him without so much as a pat goodbye. 

“Benny!” Olive shouts. “You forgot something!”

—

“Good morning boy, hi!” Olive hears, seeing Meatball perk up instantly with his ball in his mouth, expecting playtime at the sight of more people walking up to the Clubmobile. Val bends down to pet him, scritching at the dog's ears as he drops the ball at her feet and pants happily in her face. “Did you have a nice snooze?”

“He snoozed more than any of us, that’s for sure.” Helen says, rolling her eyes and smiling.

“When I checked last night, you were snoozing on top of Dickie,” Olive smiles, cheekily pointing at her friend with a triumphant grin.

“He was closest,” Helen grumbles. “And Tattie took the dog.”

“Surprised Benny didn’t put up more of a fight for him honestly,” Tattie says, stubbing out her cigarette and turning to begin spot cleaning the counters.

Mentioning Benny's name seemed to be a careless mistake. At the mention of his name, Meatball leans forward and begins howling, Cleven’s assumption once again being proved right. 

“That wolf is part dog,” he had grumbled to Olive, a few days after their first meeting. Seeing her love on him, he crouched down beside her and told her all about how he'd come to be the group's mascot. 

“Benny won him,” he laughed, holding a hand out for the dog to sniff at. “Craps.”

“Probably the luckiest win of his life,” Olive had replied, nuzzling into Meatball for warmth. “Wait, how did you get him here all the way from Greenland?”

“He flew with us. Howled the whole darn way, Lewis. It was unbearable, let me tell ya.”

“I'll bet,” she had said, raising her eyebrows. 

“Benny joked that his dog was part wolf,” he pauses, standing up and wiping his hands on his slacks. “I said that wolf is part dog.”

“Okay, Meatball, shhh.” Olive crouches down to ruffle the fur between his ears in comfort, when suddenly, the dog mistakes her loving on him for playtime and jumps up onto her, pushing her to the floor.

“Oh, Meatball!” Val laughs, unable to pull him off Olive and help her friend as he continues to lick her face. Through the chaos, laughter and struggle, a familiar voice booms across to them, with Everett Blakely following closely behind.

“Wow, and here I thought I was the only fella who got to smother you in kisses!” Dougie’s voice calls out as he walks up the path to the Clubmobile, a smirk about his lips. He seems to have woken up incredibly happy, a jaunty little pep in his step as he walks up to greet everyone. 

“Fella, yes,” Olive looks up at him from her place on the ground, his blue eyes softly boring into her. “But he’s not a fella, he’s a Meatball.”

“Well, then he’s the only Meatball who gets to smother you in kisses.” Dougie approaches the dog, gently tugging at his collar to get him off Olive and helps her stand, his hand stroking hers as he does so.  

“Did anyone get any sleep last night?” Dougie questions everyone, looking at their exhausted faces as he helps Olive dust off, tickling her playfully as he does so. 

“James!” she shrieks, playfully swatting at him.

“Barely,” Val sighs, answering his question through Olive’s giggles. She moves slightly, joining Ev and snuggling into him. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed out all night like that.”

“Had to be sometime before the war…” Ev sighs, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Somehow it always involves Curt.” Val groans, her back turned to the path the aforementioned man is now sauntering down. 

“Hey, yous guys!”

“Talk of the devil…” Val begins.

“And he shall appear,” Olive and Helen finish, climbing into the truck and pouring coffee for those who have now congregated around the area. They hand out the cups, now knowing each coffee order by memory. If anything proved how close these girls had gotten to these men, it was this very thing. Sometimes, all these men needed was a silent nod and a wry smile as a perfectly warm beverage and donut was set in front of them without a word. All the girls could do was hope they were able to make the same coffee the next day, hoping more than anything to keep seeing these familiar faces, just as the men wanted to see theirs. 

“Ol, Harding wants to see me. Not sure what it's regarding but I'd better get there al momento. Curt says he'll be on Meatball duty but–”

“Yeah, he'll sod it off after five minutes,” she titters. “Need one of us to go with?”

“Ev is giving me a hand, thanks, doll.”

“I'm sure he is, you cheeky pair.”

“Leave it, English,” she scolds with a wink, surprising her with a kiss on the cheek. “Be back soon, ‘kay?”

“Tell me what it's about when you're back! I may be sleepy but I am still nosy!”

—

“Mail's here!” Tattie yells, wafting a letter in front of Olive's face. She takes it from Tattie’s fingers with a smile, and takes in the unfamiliar penmanship written upon the envelope. It feels thick, the paper creaking slightly as she squeezes it to survey its contents without needing to open it. Not able to keep herself waiting any longer, she rips it open with her thumb and removes six thick pages, tied with ribbon, along with a single sheet of paper that's been beautifully folded into three. Setting the wad of paper to the side for just a second, she quickly scans the letter: your friend, Juliet.

“Aw!” Olive says, stuffing the papers back in the envelope they arrived in. “Brady's girl wrote me back. That's so sweet.”

“What you got there?” Dougie asks, stuffing a second - or was it a third? - donut into his mouth, looking at the huge stack of papers in Olive’s hand. She opens it, a huge smile spreading across her face, causing her cheeks to glow a little. Dougie feels his breath catch in his throat as he sees her eyes light up, quickly taking in the first three pages. It's the dimple in her cheek as she grins, the way her eyes sparkle and crinkle as her cheeks lift, the subtle glow of them, too. He clears his throat after realizing he's been holding his breath, a hand out towards Olive.

“I've got a few minutes. You wanna go somewhere quiet and read that?”

“I'd love to! Helen?” She calls, turning her head to find her friend. “You good here? I wanna go read this,” she says, gesturing to the thick pages in her hands. 

“Gosh, yes!” she cries, beginning to pour herself a coffee. “Take your time. I'll have Meatball bark if I need you!”

—

Sitting on her bunk with a sigh, she pats the space next to her. “Are you staying?” she asks Dougie, who is standing awkwardly by the door.

“Am I allowed in here?”

“It's just me, so, yes, I'd say so. Don't be trying to come in when we're all in here though; it gets a little cramped.” She pats the blanket again, hoping he takes the hint. “Come sit, darling.”

He finally begins walking towards the bunk, swiping up Val's copy of Screen Romances as he reaches Olive. “You think she'll mind?” he asks, holding it out toward her. Smirking, she shakes her head, beginning to open the letter again. Dougie sits down next to her as gently as he can, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. Her head falls on to him right away, as if his shoulder was always its safe place.

“How long do you have?” she murmurs, looking up at him from where she's laying.

“I've got a little while,” he smiles, opening the magazine right at the gossip column. “How ever long you need, Ollie.” 

She whizzes through the essay, her head on Dougie’s shoulder the whole time as he flips through the magazine, letting out little gasps and even an “ooooh!” when he reads about Clark Gable's latest exploits. Olive folds the papers back together and ties them with the ribbon they came with, smoothing out the silk as she ties it as neatly as she can, trying her best to replicate Jules’ expert handiwork. She looks over at Dougie, shifting slightly under his arm so she can sit up. He doesn't realize she has moved at first, his eyes still on the page and his brow furrowed in concentration. She smiles softly at him, trying her best to take in every detail of his sweet face.

“You're so into the gossip in that magazine, huh?” she asks, breaking the silence. He jumps, face now turning toward her. “Gossip queen.”

“What can I say? I like to be in the know,” he laughs. 

“That's just called being nosy, my love.”

“Yeah,” he blushes, taking her hand. “But you know you love it.”

“I do,” she sighs, her face coming towards his to kiss him as her eyes flicker down to his plush lips. She kisses him gently, her heart growing lighter as he smiles down at her. She doesn't pull away right after, and he isn't about to let her. His hand gently tilts her chin up to him and their lips meet again, the both of them softly falling into each other with a sigh. He delicately strokes down her chin to gently grip the side of her neck, an action that causes her to gasp and push her tongue into his mouth. A breathy moan leaves his lips as she kneels - never breaking the kiss -  and places a leg on either side of his lap. Her hands wander up to his cheeks, letting them take in his features without needing to open her eyes as his hands fall to her waist, gently squeezing and stroking each curve he can reach over her clothes. Sighs and moans pass between their lips, both of them fighting the urge to not get totally lost in it, a whine of displeasure leaving her as he pulls back to catch his breath. 

“Ollie,” he whispers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You're so pretty.” 

That does it for her. She quickly closes the distance between them, tugging on his shirt to bring him impossibly closer, intent on getting the very thing her body craves from him the most. The warmth of his body touching hers, the way he touches her: being so gentle with her that it was like she was something precious and made of fragile porcelain. Her mind recounts previous kisses with previous people and she is sure it’s never felt this good with anyone else, nor has anyone else treated her so lovingly. She sighs back into him, pushing her hips into his. 

She's not sure how long they stay like that, herself pulling away to catch her breath. The rule, it seemed, was that she was allowed to do that and he wasn't. Either way, she hated losing the time but loved the split second of taking in his half lidded eyes, as if he were in some kind of dazed state. His expression made a warmth erupt within her, her lungs filling with a contented sigh. She couldn't get enough of knowing she had got him into this state and only she was ever going to make him look like this. 

She adjusts herself on his lap, feeling him rock hard underneath her as she sits back down on him. As she moves, a hearty moan leaves him and his breath hitches and she begins to slowly rock on top of him. 

“Aaah,” he sighs, his hands now in her hair as he pulls her face away from his. He sees a worried expression flash across her face, her kiss swollen lips beginning to pout as he holds her hips still. 

“Why did you stop me?” she asks, intertwining her fingers with his. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! God, no,” he urges. “I really really want to do this. But I don't want it to be some quick thing where we don't take our time. You deserve better than that.”

“I don't care,” she whimpers, planting urgent kisses all over his face and neck as he laughs. 

“I do,” he sighs, kissing her back once she breaks away. “I can't give you the time you deserve right now. I wanna do this right, take our time. Show you how you should be treated. Okay?”

“Fine,” she pouts, her eyelids blinking up at him.

“Hey, don't be like that, angel. Soon, I promise. Pinky promise,” he says, joining their pinky fingers together and kissing her hand. 

A tap, tap, tap on the window pulls them out of the moment. They both turn towards the window and see Ev standing out there, urging Dougie to go to him, Dougie patting Olive's behind to get her off his lap. “Give me a second, honey,” he says quietly, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead as he gets up off the bed. 

Olive watches them through the window, Dougie's eyes widening slightly with whatever information Ev seems to be relaying to him. She sees his shoulders droop slightly before Ev pats one of them, beginning to walk towards the hut, and gesturing by pointing at the door for Olive to let him in. She gets up off her bunk, placing the letter on the small desk next to it and walks towards the door, opening it quickly.

“You can open it yourself, Ev,” she laughs, smoothing her hair down quickly.

“How was your, uh, reading?”

“Educational, thanks,” she replies, blushing and giggling. 

“Can't believe that guy got to sneak in here before me,” he complains, shaking his head and pulling a small sheet of paper from Val’s stationary.

“Maybe you're not picking the right moments, Blakely. What are you doing?”

“Leaving a note for Val, English.”

“You're so sly,” she pokes, reading it as he places the small sheet of paper on her pillow. She catches sight of the last line and gasps, almost squeals, in fact. Love you.

“Don't let that slip before I can, Ol.”

“Don't know what you mean, Everett,” she winks, nudging him with her elbow into his ribcage. “I promise I won't tell her before you do.”

“Good. Then I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.”

She processes what he has just said. What did that mean? 

“Ha ha, yeah, good one.” She stumbles over each word, her mouth drying as her hands clam up. A false laugh tumbles from her lips as she rushes towards the exit, finding Dougie still outside and waiting for her and Everett.

“Everything okay?” he asks, her hand finding his instantly. She feels him relax into her touch, his face softening as she silently comforts him. She pulls him towards her and holds him close, breathing him in as she savors the words that have just been said. “I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.” 

“I've gotta go,” he sighs. “We're taking the new boys on a practice run.”

“New boys?” she questions, realizing that was why Val was beckoned by Red and Chick earlier. 

“Yeah, replacements came in today. Ev says they seem a little nervous, but–”

“Hey, you've both got it,” she says, pulling him close. “You'll lead them through,” she soothes, beginning to stroke the back of his neck. “I know it.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I'll be back later, okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, kissing his cheek. “Be safe, all of you. Especially you.”

—

Olive spots Tattie leaning against the vehicle, smoking a cigarette and deep in conversation with Jack Kidd, Tattie breaking into peals of laughter at something he has said. Olive subtly looks between the pair of them, him smiling down at Tattie as laughter rises from her throat. She sees his whole face light up with joy as he watches her laugh, the first time she has seen him without a scowl upon his face. The air somehow feels different between them, and Olive finds it best to not disturb that. 

She feels a wet nose poking into her leg and turns around to see Meatball sniffing at her incessantly. “Hey, buddy,” she says, leaning down to pet him and making kissy faces at him. 

“Hey, kid,” greets Tattie, making Olive jump slightly. “Val and Helen are tidying up after greeting the new guys, so we're on Meatball duty.”

“I guessed. Ev had to come grab Dougie from me so they could go on their practice run,” she shrugs. “Curt just go too?”

“Jesus, no,” she laughs. “He gave up on doggy daycare after five minutes.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she replies, smiling. “What do you need me to do?”

“There's a load of donuts we need to get rid of before they go stale. Know anyone on the ground that would be interested?”

“Seems I know just the guys, Tat. You parcel them up and I'll take Meatball over to the hardstands to see Kenny and Wink. This dog needs a run around anyway.”

—

The sun tucks itself behind the clouds, the skies graying as the afternoon passes slowly. It seems that British summer time never changes, Olive thinks to herself as loads up a tray with coffee and donuts for the ground crew. Placed in the middle was a paper bag stuffed full of donuts, the bag being found by Tattie as she rifled through the last of the day’s newspapers.

“Ah,” she declared, somehow expertly turning it inside out without ripping it, so as not to get newspaper ink on the baked goods.”Just perfect,” she had said, a half smoked Lucky Strike hanging from her red lips. Without warning, the smoke had risen up from the cigarette and crept its way into her eye, her hand instantly clamping over it as a single tear ran from the lid. “Darn it!” She had shrieked, whipping a cloth from Helen’s shoulder as she secretly tittered, her own hand over her mouth. Olive tries her best to hold it in, the full coffee cups shaking on the tray she was holding. 

“Get gone, English, before I clip you around the ear hole for laughing at me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olive giggled, slipping Helen a subtle wink as she departed.

Left with no other choice, Olive lets Meatball walk off leash. “Don’t make me regret this, buddy,” she urges, watching him walk not in a straight line but in some strange zig zag motion, as if to antagonize her into dropping the six cups of hot liquid straight on to the pavement. 

“Woah!” she scolds, nearly tripping over the furry fool’s body as he stops suddenly to sniff the air, panting at the sound of his friends’ voices from afar. He almost looks like he’s smiling at her, seeming to enjoy her almost panicking at each drip of coffee falling from its full cup. “Meatball, we’re about to not be friends if you have me tripping face first into the ground.” 

He suddenly obliges, though not to appease Olive; a baseball lands right at his feet and he’s off like a shot towards the hardstands the second he retrieves it in his mouth.

A few moments later, Olive finds him being fussed over by Lemmons. She places the tray down on someone’s tool chest, rubbing her sore arms. 

“Heavy?” Wink asked, nudging her with his elbow.

“Not really,” she replies. “Not much weight to it but it was the keeping it upright that was the challenge. Especially with trying to keep Meatball close by and not have me tripping over my own feet. Here,” she says, handing him his cup. “I know it’s a little late in the day, but–”

“No, it’s much appreciated, Lewis,” he replies, taking a deep sip. “We’re out here for a while longer anyway, and this’ll keep the energy up for sure. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, I think, judging by Harding’s urgency.”

“You know what it’s about yet?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he laughs. “You seem to be in the know. Friends in high places and all that.”

“No special privileges here, Wink,” she jokes back, opening the bag of donuts and offering it to him. “I know as much as you, kiddo.”

“Olive!” Lemmons greets, grabbing a coffee from the tray. “Y’know, I expected more cold beer than hot coffee for keeping your little secret, but seeing as you brought donuts, I’ll let it slide.”

“You’d better,” she smiles, handing him the bag. She realizes that Wink is still standing in the same spot, absolutely in earshot. He is either too invested in his donut to look shocked, or there’s the alternative. Olive’s eyes narrow and bore into the young man in front of her, happily sipping coffee and petting the dog.

“Kenny…” she says through gritted teeth. “Did you tell anyone else?”

“Oh, heck,” he murmurs, his face dropping and growing ashen by the second. “Y’see, I just– well, he wanted to know why I was just so het up and I–”

“So you told Wink, without checking with me first, and he–” she stops, turning to the man beside her. “You’re fine with it?”

“Yeah, Olive. I was telling Kenny you seem a little different and I was just putting it down to you being English.”

“But I let it slip. I–I’m sorry, Ol.”

Her teeth bare again, her brow furrowing so hard that she is sure it could one up Valencia’s famous glare. “Kenny,” she growls, her eyes beginning to fill with angry tears. She drops the act the second she sees him wince at what’s coming next. She laughs, wiping her tears and sees his eyes grow wide. “I’m only fucking around, pal. It’s fine, you’re grand.”

“Jesus, Ol,” he breathes out, relieved. “Ya scared me, girl!”

“I told you, I’m an actor. I’ve got to pull it out every now and then to mess with my friends, it’s only fair.”

“Well, it worked! Hell fire!” He wipes his brow, finally taking a bite of the donut he had picked from the bag a few moments ago.

“Will you keep the dog for a little while? Me and the girls want to be ready for when the boys come back and we don’t want our nicer uniforms covered in dog hair.”

“What, not just this once? Take a little Meatball to dinner with ya?” Kenny coos, bending down to be close to Meatball’s face and pouting. Laughing, he stands up and brushes at his knees. “Sure thing, buddy. I’ll bring him back later.”

“Thanks, Ken. See you later!”

“Hey, thanks for dinner and a show!”

“You’re welcome!”

—

Back at the hut, Olive slumps on her bunk with a tired sigh. All this staying out into the early hours of the morning was beginning to take a real toll on her, no matter how fun it was. She feels herself getting drowsy, a sleepy warmth washing over her as she lay her head on her pillow for just a moment, to get the room to stop spinning. She calculates how long it's been since she went back to Pearl, and sits up in shock. Her whole body suddenly tense, she makes a mental note to go back as soon as possible. Not knowing how time will behave and treat her, she feels a panic rise up in her chest, the breathlessness of it making a rush of heat run up her body and burn her throat.

“Ol?” a voice, Helen’s, but sounds like it's underwater. “Olive, look at me,” she urges, her hand now on Olive's forehead. “Breathe, girlie.”

 She nods weakly, and begins to look around the room as the walls begin to close in on her. She tries to find something to focus on, her eyes falling to the bed opposite hers - Valencia’s bunk - with the note still sat prettily atop the pillow. Disappointed that Val hadn’t seen it yet, she hopes that she arrives back soon to retrieve it. It’s this simple thought, the thought of her friend smiling as she reads it, that brings her back to herself. 

“There,” Helen comforts, wiping Olive’s face with a damp washcloth. “I’ve got you. What pulled you out of it?”

“Thinking of Val’s face when she sees what he’s written.”

“Oh, I know!” She squeals. “I can hardly wait. Did she tell you who I met today?”

“No!” she cries. “I haven’t seen her since this morning. Oh my gosh, spill!”

She begins, her words coming out of her dainty mouth at a mile a minute as she regales the tale of meeting ‘the most handsome pilot I’ve ever laid my eyes on.’

“The most handsome?” Olive teases, hanging on every word.

“Yes!” she giggles, once again describing him. As she continues to chatter and giggle, Olive joining and doing just the same, the door swings open. Their conversation stops, their eyes sparkling and smiling widely at their friend. 

“You’ve got mail…” Olive sing songs playfully, pointing over at the pillow.

“What don’t I know?” Val smiles, her pretty green eyes narrowing at the two giggling girls on the bed opposite. 

“Nope,” Olive says, truly sticking to her promise of not revealing anything. She mimes zipping her lips, the action sending her and Helen into a peal of girlish giggles all over again.

“Olive!” she stomps, shaking her head at the mischievous pair who are falling over themselves with laughter. 

Olive sees Val’s eyes read the note one, two, three times, each time with a little extra speed than before. She stands up from the bed and stands in front of Val, that all knowing, cheeky glint still sparkling in her eye. 

“He…oh my God…” She stutters out, her hand flying out to find Olive’s to steady herself.

“He what, honey?” Helen asks, despite knowing exactly what she is referring to. 

“That’s the first time...in a note!” She cries, trying to find a way to steady her heart’s rhythm at the revelation. 

“The first time for what?” Helen teases again, still perched upon the bed with the same all-knowing look Olive has on her own face.

“Val, honey, are you okay?” Tattie asks, quietly entering the room. 

“DID YOU KNOW?!” Val yelps,  her attention turning to Olive, who is taken aback by the way Val’s voice is a few pitches higher than they’re all used to.

“Did I know what?” she asks innocently, almost winking at her.

“THIS!” she shrieks, waving the paper in front of her eyes.

“What’s it say?” the Brit asks, trying to peer around the paper to read the words she’s already read numerous times today.

“English, please!” She releases Olive’s hand and sits on her bed, her lungs tightening in her chest.

“Okay, okay,” she relents, taking a seat beside her on the bunk. “I promised,” she says, crossing her heart, “that I wouldn’t let it slip before you found out or he told you.”

“How did you…”

“Dougie and I were in here earlier,” she smiles at the memory, remembering the way he touched her hours before sending her organs dancing into a frenzy. “I was reading my mail when Ev came looking for him.”

“Yeah, okay, you two were ‘reading,’” she kids, rolling her eyes at her friend.

“Don’t change the subject, Valencia!”

“Olive!” Helen calls, her face now suddenly a picture of disgust. “Please tell me I’m not sitting where…”

“No, Helen, you’re safe. Nothing happened.”

“As long as I’m not–”

“Would you two please focus?” Val urgently cuts Helen off. “Everett just said he loves me!”

“Well of course he loves you!” Tattie says, rolling her eyes as she walks past the hubbub on her way to the shower block. 

“No, I mean, that’s the first time he’s ever said it.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she yells, turning one of the showers on, the squeak of the pipes causing her to need to raise her voice so she’s heard.

 “What makes you say that?” Val queries, the note still in her hands. 

“Well, for starters,” Helen begins, hoping she is not interjecting on whatever Tattie has to say. “It’s the way you gaze into each other’s eyes when you think no one is looking…” She rolls over, her stomach now on the bed with her feet kicked up behind her. 

“Or when we are looking,” Olive teases, nudging her a little. She reaches into her pocket and grabs her cigarettes, lighting two and handing on to Val. “Here, chicken, come on…”

Val takes the cigarette from Olive’s fingers and takes a long drag before exhaling quickly, Olive seeing that the deep breath she took is beginning to somewhat ground her. She begins to talk again, in her normal tone and slower this time, the words accompanied by a plume of white smoke as she speaks. Her eyes seem to glaze over, like she’s lost in another time far away from this one.

“The last person who told me they loved me,” she begins, blinking suddenly.

“There was someone before Blakely?” Tattie calls, her head popping around the wall of the tiled bathroom as she dries herself. 

“I don’t like talking about it,” Val sighs, her eyes almost back to their usual green tone. “We met when I started working at the bank. He was a big shot and I was a secretary.”

“Val, you don’t have to tell us.”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighs, looking between her friends. “I want to. I think I need to, to finally be rid of him.”

“Rid of him?” Helen questions.

“He was a real sweet talker,” Val starts. “Not like Curt or Ev. He was the kind of guy who could charm the skirt off a nun. Not even Curt can do that.” She titters, taking another pull of the cigarette in her hand.

“Oh…” Helen cringes slightly, still intrigued by Val’s story.

“So, he charmed me. Charmed me real good, made me lots of promises.”

“Val, did he…” Olive asks.

“No,” she urges, shaking her head. “I was so enthralled by him, I had wanted to.”

“So, what happened?”

“The secretaries would always leave at five in the dot. So, there would be nights I would go home and he would still be working, and so Curt would meet me and walk me home. And one night, we were walking home, we came up to the picture house, and there he was.”

“Oh no!” Helen cries, her hand slapping to cover her mouth as she figures out where this is going.

“He was with another woman,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know who she was, but I begged Curt to take me home.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “In the police station, after Curt beat him within an inch of his life. They both got arrested for a public brawl.”

“Valencia!” Olive cries, somewhat shocked but not shocked at all at the mental image of Curtis Biddick defending his best friend with his boxer’s fists. 

“I had to identify them both. Curt had claimed self defense, so, when it came time to make my statement, I said that my ex had attacked me, and Curt fought back in my defense.”

“Oh my God!”

“I tried dating other fellas after the dust settled, but Curt was always wildly protective and made it difficult. I get why he did it.”

“He really is your protector, isn’t he?” Olive soothes, her fingers intertwining with Val’s.

“Until I found out he was the one who divulged my cocktail order to Everett…”

“Curt did?!” Helen cries happily, almost cheering at the discovery.

“He did,” Val smiles, the cigarette long ignored as it burns its way down to her fingers. “He surprises me in funny ways like that.”

“Insufferable, that one,” Olive chuckles, shaking her head. “But he really is a good egg.”

“What are you going to tell Blakely?” Tattie asks, joining the others in the room again. 

“That I love him too,” she grins, showing her perfect teeth. “Because I do love him.”

“Ohhhhh!” It’s Olive’s turn to squeal, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “I knew it!”

—

Olive and Helen watch as Val takes Ev’s note and delicately places it between the pages of the book that rests on her side table. Everett Blakely’s first ‘I love you’ was now secretly pressed between chapters seven and eight of The Great Gatsby. The girls then found themselves in front of the mirror, prettying themselves up for dinner. Being invited to eat in the Officer’s Mess was slightly anxiety inducing anyway, but even more so when Chick Harding would be sat just a few tables away. They dug out their cleanest uniform, once again glad that Olive had sent Meatball to the airfield for his daily exercise. For such an occasion as this, the uniform needed to remain dog-hair, coffee stained and donut sugar free. 

Olive watched as Valencia expertly daubed rouge on her cheeks and her signature Victory Red shade on her lips, pouting occasionally in the mirror so as to ensure she’d got the right shape. She tries her best to mimic her movements without making it obvious, pulling her dark brown hair out from under the silk scarf she had used to keep it contained all day, now pinning it away from her face. She had found the perfect shade after the disastrous testing and application of Val’s Victory Red on her first night in the hut. It’s one she will be happy to have kissed off her mouth later, that’s for certain. 

“That color looks good on you,” Val utters from next to her.

“Yeah?” She replies, meeting her glance in the reflection of the mirror and resuming the primping of her hair, hoping to somehow smooth it into submission. “It’s not too dark?”

“Not at all. It’s the perfect red for you.”

“I think only you can pull off that Victory Red,” Olive chuckles, the pair of them remembering how that shade had been much too light against Olive’s pale skin, it washing her out and making her impossibly more pasty. “It was not for me.”

“Oh, gosh, do you remember how fast you wiped it off?”

“Immediate no,” she laughs. A sigh leaves her lips, throwing a stray hair pin that had escaped from her hair onto a nearby table. “Ugh, this side does not want to cooperate!”

“Here, let me…” Val stands and walks towards her friend, standing behind her as she begins gently rolling Olive’s hair between her manicured fingers and pinning it in the desired spot.

“How do you do it?” She grumbles, her hair now perfect within seconds, all thanks to an expert hand. 

“From an early age, my mother taught me how to be a ‘proper lady’,” she replies, Olive stifling a giggle at Val’s impression of her mom. “‘Valencia, don’t leave the house without lipstick on. Don’t forget to set your hair.’”

Olive laughs fully now at the broken English accent that comes out of her. She is so good at it that it’s almost like her mother is in the room with them. “Is that what she sounds like?”

“Oh, yes,” Val nods. “And Nonna, not a word of English.”

“Well, you’re a whizz,” she compliments, looking up as the final pin is placed in her hair. “I need to pay attention to how you do your hair.”

“You’re doing just fine, chickie,” she winks, walking over to her side table and putting on her watch before collecting her jacket. Olive does just the same, Helen waiting impatiently by the door. “We were all there once.”

“Thanks,” Olive beams at her friend, shoving her arms into her own jacket. “Now, come on. It’s almost 5:30 and if I know those two…”

“They’re probably already outside,” she finishes, Helen opening the door. 

The two men stood outside, smoking together and deep in conversation, no doubt about the replacements that had joined them today. Listening in as they mischievously stare through the screen door at  their fellas, they catch that Ev had taken a few of the boys up and tested them on formations and calling out navigation patterns. Dougie had simulated a bomb drop for them, the pilot and the bombardier agreeing that two forts in particular had impressed them - the rest, not so much. 

“I wanted to take Ol to the pub tonight, but that’s not happening,” Dougie grumbles as he senses the girls making their way towards them. 

“I know,” Ev groans in response. “I owe Val a date but, based on what Jack told me earlier, we’re about to go through the mud for a bit.”

“This whole place is mud. Never stops raining!”

“This one sounds big,” Ev musters, his voice low. 

“He say where?”

“No, Harding’s keeping it close to the vest.”

“Dammit,” Dougie shoots out, teeth slightly gritted together in annoyance. “It would be nice to know what we’re up against for once.”

“Yeah,” comes the quiet reply from Everett, the final ember bursting from his cigarette. “Explains why he wants us looking after these new kids.”

“Fucking replacements…”

The conversation carries on, the men so involved in it that they still haven’t noticed the girls right by them. The compliments flow, them talking about a pair from Laredo who seemed to be the only ones worth their salt. 

Dougie does a double take as he realizes his girl is right by him. He throws his finished cigarette into the makeshift ashtray in front of the hut and smiles his sweet grin, holding out his hand. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You look beautiful.”

“Heh, thank you,” she giggles, feeling herself blush at his compliment. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself, my love.”

“Good day?” he teases, kissing her gently on the mouth.

“Hm, it was okay, I guess. Nothing much happened,” she pauses, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. “A lot of reading.”

“Oh yeah, we definitely read a lot. Can we read more tomorrow?”

“Only if you buy me a drink later.”

“Deal,” he winks, pulling her close. “Oh, you smell divine, Ollie.”

“Yes, I’m quite appealing when I’m not covered in dog hair and coffee.”

“I think you’re just as beautiful all the time,” he whispers, his voice in her ear sending a delicious tingle down her spine. She lets him keep gently whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she catches sight of Val and Ev going on ahead, the pair of them walking in step as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and keeps her close. 

“We’d better go,” she laughs, nodding her head towards their friends. “We’re gonna be late.”

“If that hut is empty, I’m fine being late.”

“James!” she scolds, but laughs nevertheless. “You are so cheeky!”

“Yeah,” he grins, his eyes beginning to light up. “Only for you, though.”

“Oh, it had better be only for me, Douglass,” she flirts, batting her long lashes at him. “Nobody else is getting a piece of this!”

“Nu-uh, no, ma’am. Never.”

The evening air has a chill upon it, Dougie feeling it the moment they begin walking towards the Officer’s Mess. He throws his arm around Olive’s shoulders and pulls her close, the warmth from his body edging the cold away with each step. 

“I’d give you my jacket,” he offers. “But I’d have to put it right back on in a second.”

“I understand, sweet. No bother at all.”

He stops, taking her face between his hands and plants a deep kiss on her mouth, both of them feeling the other smile as their lips meet. She giggles as they break apart, taking her thumb to wipe the lipstick from his lips. “Oh, seems this red is your color, too.”

“I knew it. Does that mean I can keep kissing you forever?”

“Sure,” she swoons, the word ‘forever’ sending her insides melting. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he whispers, a tone of nervousness to his voice. “Come on, pretty girl. We’re late.”

— 

Upon entering the mess, Dougie’s arm once again wraps around Olive, they hear Val’s voice loudly making a remark to Harry Crosby. Gesturing to the couple who are smiling themselves into oblivion, they hear “that about answer your question, Croz?”

“Sure does,” he laughs in response, smiling at them both as Dougie, ever the sweet gentleman, pulls the chair out next to Val for Olive to sit on before rounding the table to sit opposite her, next to Everett. 

“So, fellas,” he pipes up, his eyes crinkling from his smile. “How’s it going then?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Dougie,” Brady grins, nodding towards Olive.

“Oh, I’m great,” he enunciates, winking at his girl opposite him, who rolls her eyes in return.

“Brady,” Olive begins, tapping his hand to get his attention. “I just wanted to say how lovely your Juliet is. I received her reply today, and I’ve got to say, what an amazing person. What a magnificent writer she is. Those kids are lucky to have her as their teacher, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, thanks, Olive,” he smiles, his cheeks turning red at the mention of her. “Make sure you mention that in your next letter. I tell her that all the time, yet she never seems to take it in from me. Maybe she’ll listen to someone else.”

“Maybe so! I’m very much the same, John. It’s a girl thing.”

“She write you an essay?” he jokes, shuffling with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“She did, actually,” she nods enthusiastically, promising to show him tomorrow.

“Yeah,” Dougie interjects. “We read it together.”

The men at the table give a roaring cheer at his remark, Olive feeling herself turn a deep shade of beetroot as she begins to laugh. “James!” she says, holding on to Valencia as they both laugh with tears in their eyes. “Keep it quiet.”

“Yeah, Doug,” Ev says, ruffling his hair a little. “Keep it quiet.”

Next to her, she sees Val catch the eye of one of the new replacements that had been mentioned earlier. Due to her having not been introduced to them yet, she is finding it hard to place which one had captured Helen’s heart and mind this morning from description alone. Nevertheless, Olive smiles brightly at them in greeting, the curly haired mustached man waving across to Val. 

“Hey, Val,” Benny calls from the other end of the table. “Looks like you’ve caught the eye of some of the replacements.” Olive sees Everett’s head twitch just a little at Benny’s words, turning his head slightly to get a better look. “Starry eyed kids.” 

“Rosenthal and his crew?” Val responds, shaking her head with a laugh. 

“Uh, no, actually…”

“What?” Ev scowls, and finds the men Benny has been referring to. His eyes narrow towards them, his gait akin to a wild cat ready to attack. Olive feels her chest tense up, hoping and praying this isn’t the start of a whole new argument, so soon after getting over the last one. 

“Everett, they’re not doing anything,” she pleads, her voice soft. “They’re just–”

“Drooling at my girlfriend like a pack of dogs.” 

Olive quickly looks over each of her shoulders, hoping that brotherly Curt Biddick isn’t in the vicinity. Olive isn’t sure who Curt would go for first in this situation - Ev for acting in such a way, or the new boys acting like uncouth savages whose mothers hadn’t taught them manners. 

Dougie places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, bringing him out of the envious trance he’d gotten himself in. “Ev, hey pal. They’re just kids, they’ll learn.” 

Olive sees Ev’s eyes unlock from the group with a shake of his head as he hears Dougie’s words, the ready-to-pounce stance dropping almost immediately. 

“Yeah…learn not to ogle other people’s girlfriends,” he spits, pointedly talking to those same boys, whose faces had dropped a mile in fear. 

“Everett…” Val warned, her eyes meeting Olive’s in some kind of confusion. Before he can respond, Gale Cleven stands with his hands on his hips, ever the authoritative figure. Major Buck Cleven addresses the boys, their faces now pale and their eyes darting to fixate on anything but Everett Blakely. 

“Fellas,” he nods. “Those girls will get your utmost respect, understood?” 

“Y-yes, Major,” they all stutter out, Buck nodding before moving along to say hello to everyone. 

“Boys. Miss Lewis, Miss Val,” he smiles, giving Val a little wink after realizing she has heard his talk with the replacements. “Enjoy dinner, everyone.”

“Thanks, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Val and Ev, who are sitting opposite one another just like Olive and Dougie are, begin quietly talking to one another. Olive finds it best to not listen in, having found that this situation was enough drama for one night. Instead, she catches the eye opposite her, Dougie shaking his head and rolling his eyes with a smile as the pair murmur next to them.

— 

Dinner finishes, and the group finds that the tiredness has finally caught up with them all, Olive and Val exchanging tired glaces which are not just from feeling full after all they’d eaten for dinner.

“So, club?” Dougie asks, taking a drag of his just lit cigarette and passing it across to Olive.

“Hmm, no. Not tonight,” she shakes her head, blowing smoke out of her mouth. “Unless Val wants to?”

“Hell no,” she laughs, dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. “I need my bed.” She pauses for a second, evidently piecing a thought together. “Why don’t we just go sit outside our hut for a while?”

“It’s a nice night, I don’t see why not,” Olive agrees, already beginning to stand. Dougie rushes up behind her and helps her with her jacket, holding out his hand for her to hold. “Come on, honey,” she smiles, before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “We can have a cuddle.”

“Perfect.”

The group makes the short walk back, Dougie not letting Olive’s hand go for a second. Every now and then, he puts it to his lips and kisses the back of it, smiling softly at the sight of their fingers linked together. Once the hut is reached, the girls rush inside and place a vinyl on the player, gesturing for one of the guys to grab a chair and prop the door open so the music can be heard from where they will sit. 

“Ev, we need a record player in our rack,” Dougie says, handing a cigarette up to Olive who is sitting on his lap, his arm around her waist, holding her close to him. 

“Croz has a record player,” Ev responds with a sigh, him and Val squeezing up to share a chair so they can be as close as possible to one another. 

“Yeah, but he plays fancy stuff,” he laments, his free hand squeezing Olive’s waist a little more. 

“What exactly is fancy stuff, Doug?” Val asks with a laugh. 

“You know, opera and stuff.”

“Classical music is nice,” Val reasons to him, her eyes softly narrowing at him. “Nonna plays a lot of classical Italian at home. It’s actually quite nice.”

“Hey, Ol,” Dougie asks, nudging her a little. “What does Pearl play?”

She smiles, happy that this is a question she can answer truthfully.

“A lot of Glenn Miller in her house,” she sighs, another reminder to go back to her and reality looming over her. 

“She has good taste,” Ev offers, nodding. 

“Heh, yeah. She sure does.”

The four of them excitedly begin exchanging anecdotes about their families, Helen and Tattie joining them while Ev is in the middle of a story, regarding his mother and how she dealt with his rebellious behavior as a child.

“All I heard was, and it scared the life out of me, let me tell ya, was ‘Everett Ernest, if you so much as look at that vase–’”

“Wait, wait!” Olive shakes her head, wanting to make sure she heard him correctly. “Your middle name is Ernest?”

“Yes, and what of it, English?”

“I'm sorry, it's just–” she is cut off by the sound of a cackle erupting from her own throat, clutching her stomach as her eyes squeeze shut. “I didn't expect that. You don't–” she squeals, trying to compose herself. “You don't look like an Ernest, that's all.”

“Go on then, what's yours?”

“Maude,” she giggles, catching the glint in his eye as she says it. 

“Maude? Jesus, Ol, that's somehow worse than Ernest!” It's his turn to laugh now, the pair of them throwing their heads back and laughing loudly into the night. 

“I think it's cute,” Dougie says, sweetly tapping her nose with his finger. 

“Thank you! I think so too.” Her nose wrinkles sweetly as he touches it, him mirroring her expression and pulling her into a quick peck on the lips. 

Tattie lights one of the last cigarettes in the pack, passing it between the group. 

Helen, the most inexperienced smoker of them all but not wanting to be the odd one out, keeps coughing at each drag she takes. The dainty little noises leave her every few seconds, her chest heaving delicately as if she were a sickly little kitten.

“Helen, doll,” Olive urges. “Put that out. You're hurting yourself!”

“I don't wanna look like the party pooper!”

“I can promise, you're not,” she laughs, gesturing with a wave of her hand to give her the cigarette, the tip covered in her lipstick. As she stubs it out, she sees four men round the corner, all of them wide eyed and seeming to be taking in their new surroundings. Val looks up with a grin and waves, beckoning them over while Helen visibly swoons at the sight of the thin, dark haired pilot. 

“Ohhhh,” Olive says, knowingly. “That'll be Nash, then.” Helen simply giggles, tucking an invisible strand of her behind her ear.  “There is no hair loose, my girl,” Olive guffaws, shaking her head. 

“Ol, come meet the new fellas!” Valencia calls, three of the four in front of her. Nash had made his way over to Helen without a hello, his target clear from the moment he'd seen her leaning against the wall of the hut. 

“This is Robert,” Val begins. “Speas here is Nash's co-pilot and…where's he got to?”

“I'll give ya three guesses,” the round faced blond man perks up, eyebrows wiggling.

“That was fast. He's keen.”

“Sure is. Sorry, Miss…?” he says, looking at Olive.  

“Lewis. Olive Lewis.”

 “No way!” he gestures to himself, patting his chest three times in a fit of excitement. “Pappy Lewis!” 

“Oh, what?!” she squeals, clutching on to his arm. “I mean,” she stutters. “It's a pretty common name, Pappy.”

“Never met a Brit with the same one before though. Truth be told, never met a Brit til just now.”

“It's your lucky day. A Brit and a long lost cousin,” she jokes, stubbing out the last of her cigarette. 

“Oh! You're right! Hey, Rosie!” he calls over to him, not realizing he's still stood right next to him so he almost deafens the curly haired pilot. “Came all the way to England to find my cousin!”

“Pappy, she's not–”

“Long lost cousin Olive,” he says, pulling her into a hug. Olive pulls away as he loosens his grip on her, platonically grabbing his arm to lead him over to Ev and Dougie. Olive catches sight of Everett talking in hushed tones to Dougie, his hand on his shoulder. Ev is carrying an expression that's rarely seen, his brow softly furrowed and his body squared up as if to cover Dougie’s from where he is sat. The pair seem to be speaking softly, Ev obviously talking Dougie down from a mood that hasn't been apparent thus far. Olive worries, instantly trying to break the ice between them and her new friend. She rifles in her pocket and pulls out the box of cigarettes, somehow hoping that a simple gesture will give some ease to the surrounding atmosphere.

“Smoke?” she offers to Pappy as they reach the two men. “You guys have–”

“We've met,” Dougie says sharply, taking the last pull of his Lucky Strike as he stands. 

“Doug…” Everett urges, gesturing for him to sit back down. Olive can clearly see Dougie’s neck tightening, a vein beginning to pop out on his forehead. His face is covered with a thin sheen of sweat, him wiping at his brow quickly as Olive takes in his expression, her eyes full of concern. 

“Excuse me, Pappy,” she says, placing herself in front of James. “Honey,” she soothes. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” he replies, his voice meek and quiet. “It's nothing.”

“You wouldn't be acting like this if it was nothing.” She puts a hand on his face, before raking her fingers through his dark hair. “Come on, come with me.”

She links her fingers with his and takes him to a quieter spot, the back of the hut where they can't be seen. Instantly, she crosses her arms and shakes her head, as if to urge him into telling her what's going on.  “Well?” 

“I need you to know I'm not mad,” he begins, his eyes stuck on a spot on the pavement below. “I just…I get uneasy sometimes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Someone - an old girlfriend - stepped out on me. Was unfaithful and I don't–”

“My goodness. I could never. I would never.”

He sighs, the back of his head against the wall as he breathes out. “I just need to know you're my girl.”

“Oh, James,” she mollifies, lifting his chin to have him look at her. “I'm your girl.”

“What if you change your mind?” He sounds so unlike himself, his voice, so small and meek, barely above a whisper as it cracks just a little.

“I will never change my mind. D'you hear me?” He nods, his blue eyes suddenly swimming. “Never, ever. However long you want me for, at least.”

“Oh, I'm planning on a really long time.”

“Good,” she smiles, pulling him closer to kiss her. “I'm yours. Okay? And when you feel ready, you can tell me the whole story.”

“Okay.” The deep breath he seems to have been holding escapes him, Olive seeing his chest collapse a little with relief. He smiles at her, gently stroking her face. “Hey, you think we can sneak in and do some more reading?”

“No chance of that, darling,” she says, nodding towards the group still outside. “But I’m sure we can read here for a little bit. Maybe a bedtime story, hm?” She grins at him, and he catches a cheeky glint in her deep brown eyes as she kisses him, open mouthed and firm. He gently pushes her against the wall, her opening her legs slightly to accommodate his lean body pressing on hers. Gentle moans pass between their mouths as they kiss, pushing their tongues together, trying to find a moment to breathe. His hand gently strokes down her neck, her eyes squeezing further shut to bite off a groan that’s trying to escape from her throat. It’s when he softly presses his fingers on the area he is holding that the moan crawls from her mouth and into his, him laughing on her lips in return. 

“You’re fresh, James Douglass,” she murmurs, his lips capturing hers again as the hand eases its grip. She finds his bottom lip with her tongue and gently nibbles, her hands finding themselves in his hair, softly gripping his hair and mussing it, the pomade slightly sticky upon her fingertips. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is the man in front of her, his mouth moving and working upon hers as if he never wanted to kiss another woman this way ever again. She shivers at his touch, the hairs all over her body standing on end as he plants soft kisses on her jawline and neck, making Olive quietly moan, her warm breath condensating in the dark, starry evening. 

“Can we say goodnight like this all the time?” he mumbles into her skin, his tongue finding her jugular. 

“Yes please,” she whines, her hips bucking into him as she goes to grab him once again. “And good morning, good afternoon, good evening…” her voice drifts off as he presses his lips to hers again, silencing her. He teasingly breaks away as she gasps, sighing in frustration. She catches sight of him in the moonlight and cackles for a second, his kiss-swollen lips covered in her lipstick. A familiar voice booms over the whole base, shocking the couple slightly. “The light was on. Everyone get back to your racks,” followed by a very stern  “James Douglass. Bed. NOW!”

“I’m beginning to think we need to find better hiding spots,” Olive says, rolling her eyes.

“Come on,” he whispers, pulling her off the wall. “They’ll be wondering where we got to.”

“Oh, I think they’ll know. Come here, love,” she says, pulling a spare handkerchief from her pocket. “You need this.”

“Do I look pretty?” he pouts, leaning forward to get her to clean his face. 

“Always, doll,” she reassures, touching his nose with her own. “There,” she nods, not a smear of lipstick to be seen. “They’ll never suspect a thing!”

The two round the corner, still giggling from their little tryst as they catch Val smiling sweetly at them. She gives them a little wave as she makes her way into the hut, leaving the door open for Olive. The lull of the night surrounds them as they quietly bid one another goodnight. A sweet kiss planted on her lips makes her toes curl. He kisses her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and touches her nose with his one final time. No words are spoken; it’s as if nothing else needs to be said, the actions seeming to do the talking. She watches as he turns and walks away into the night, Olive finding herself thanking the stars above for bringing her here.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @archival-hogwash @lestweforget5 @butterfly9012

[lestweforget5]

Hi, I hope you had a lovely Christmas and re Year. I just spotted on your schedule some more Brother’s Lost and Found scenarios, 4, 5 & 6. Any chance of an idea what they are about apart from the title please? If that’s not giving too much away? If it is no worries I will await them patiently 😀. Love Josie x

Hello! My Christmas was lovely--I came home from England to visit my family. And my New Years was nice and quiet, which is just how I like it; I'm not the staying-up-until-midnight type, LOL. I hope your holidays were lovely, too.

So Scenarios 4, 5, and 6 for Brothers Lost and Found are on my planned list, but I've done almost nothing on them yet, so it'll be a while before they're written and ready to post, but they are coming, sooner or later! I'm quite happy to give the brief summaries of what those three scenarios are about, but I'll put it beneath the cut since others might not want spoilers.

"At Moosburg" -- Millie and Dickie are sent to Stalag VII-A originally, instead of to Stalag Luft III where Brady and Curt and all their other friends are, which means everyone thinks they're dead. And then the Stalag Luft III boys show up in April 1945 after the Long March ...

"In the Hospital" -- This is actually based off some lovely ideas that @starlit007day shared with me a while back. So Curt and Dickie survive (not that Millie knows this) and are repatriated home prior to her arrival in February 1945. So when Millie arrives in NY in Chapter 24, her aunt calls Curt/Dickie and they meet Millie at the hospital, but since she's sick, she's not sure she's not hallucinating or something, so cue ... angst.

"At the Dulag Luft" -- Starts off like "On The Train," but instead of getting shoved into the arms of Butler and the RAF, Millie stumbles straight into Curt's arms.

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

What if the MOTA character in au Abo has a kind of dominant alpha / pure alpha and dominant omega / pure omega? For the Buckies here, John is alpha dominant/ pure alpha while Gale is omega dominant/ pure omega .

plus other characters: Crosby x Rosie Jack x Harding Curt x Dickie Ken x Winks Smokey x Stromy Hambone x douglass Bubbles x Blakely And other pairs.

Maybe I’m out of the loop, but I’m not really sure what that means 😅 If you don’t mind sending a bit of an explanation for what you mean by dominant/pure here and what the opposite of that is, I’m always down to explore an idea ❤️

[alouiadina]

Classes are almost over, which means I'm asking for asks. I will be working on other works that I'm still working on, but it would be nice to have little things to work on in between.

Ships and shows (and movies) expanded list:

Masters of the Air: Clegan, Crubbles, Dougley, Brenny, Rosielemmons, CurtxDickie, CurtxKen, CurtxBucky, and then threesomes/foursomes you come up with.

Top Gun movies: Icemav, Hangster, Sloose

The Terror: Hickeygibson, fitzier

Supernatural: Destiel, sabriel, Madam, Dreamhunter

Marvel: Ironstrange, stucky, thruce, winterbaron, Theo x Loki, Lokius,

X-men: Cherik (others if there's a good reason)

Star Trek (TOS, AOS, TNG, DS9): Spirk, Chulu, qcard, daforge, garashir,

If they're any ships you like you don't see, feel free to send an ask/prompt anyway. I might've forgotten to put it on the list.

[darkimpala1897]

Curt: "I will move heaven and earth to be with you Dickie."

Dickie literally dying from overwhelming feeling of love.

Buck watching with Bucky, he turned towards Bucky who just looks at him confused.

Buck: "And I can't even get an I love you from you."

[notthatitmattersbutyes]

Jason Todd x Reader - Jealous lemon 😏

Jason's POV

.................................................

There's nothing I love more than watching (y/n) sleep. She's so peaceful. So cute when she dreams. Wait.. what is she saying..

"Dick.." Did she just say Dick? Maybe I heard her wrong. "Dick.. don't.. stop.." NOPE I heard right. She's moaning now. She's dreaming about fucking Grayson! What the fuck! That's it. I'm going in the living room. I'll sleep on the couch before I sleep next to her. Fuck this.

......................................................................

Your POV

You wake up and Jason is not in bed, which is odd considering you usually wake up entangled in his arms and legs. What a sap he is, all cuddly in the morning. You get up to find him and he's there, on the couch. Must have had a nightmare. You walk over thinking he's asleep but he's on his phone, scrolling. "Hello, love." You say, kissing the top of his head. "'Sup" He says, not even looking up. "Did you have a nightmare last night? Why were you sleeping on the couch?" He flicks his eyes over you with a look you can't place, then returns to his phone. "Nope." He says, popping the 'P' for extra effect. You roll your eyes and go make breakfast. You had a pretty bad nightmare yourself last night but he was obviously bothered by something and didn't feel like talking, so you went about your morning routine. Jason stayed in the living room the whole time. "Hey, Jay?" You call, eating your toast at the kitchen counter. "Hm?" He says. "Can we stop by the manor today? I really miss everyone." You can't be sure but you think you hear him mutter , "Oh, I'm sure you do." But before you can ask what he really said, he yells back, "Fine-but I don't want to stay long." You take what you can get and get dressed. You decide to wear something special to get Jason out of his funk. A black lace bralette under a gray deep v-neck. You can see your cleavage and lace out of the top of the shirt and you pair it with black lace panties under skinny jeans, tightest you have, and sandals. You wear a deep red lipstick and a dramatic winged eye and appreciate your look. Your hair is undone and wild like he likes it and you feel pretty confident. You walk out to meet Jason, who was standing by the door way impatiently twirling his keys. "Are you ready now?" He says. "Um.. yes, I am." He looks at your outfit, rolls his eyes and leaves the apartment, walking down to the car. You are beyond confused and to be honest, a little annoyed with him. What was his deal!?

It was a quiet ride to the Manor. He put on music but it was so low you couldn't make out the words. When you finally roll up, he turns off the car, gets out, and walks into the house, not bothering to wait for you. Okay, now you're pissed. He was being such a.. such a.. well ass but he was always kind of an ass. This was different. Usually when he was upset about something, you were the one he would talk to about it. Now it seemed like you were the one he was mad at. Fine. Two can play at that game. You devised a plan to get back at him and you walked up to the door and charged in.

Alfred greeted you at the door. "Good evening, Miss (Y/L/N). Is Master Todd alright?" You hugged the man and rolled your eyes as you pulled back. "I couldn't tell ya, Al. He's been acting weird. But I have a plan." You said with a wink. Alfred leaned in and whispered, "Respectfully; Give him hell, love." You giggled and made your way to the living room. Jason sat sulking with his arms crossed in the single chair, not allowing you to sit anywhere near him. Damian was reading a book by the fireplace and Dick was sitting on the couch, watching tv. Tim was the main part of your plan but since he and Bruce were in the cave, Dick will have to do. You were a little annoyed with him from your nightmare last night but told yourself it was just a dream and to get over it.

You sauntered over to Dick, passing Jason without so much as a glance, and sat down next to him giving him a hug. "Hey, Dickie-bird! How's my favorite BatBoy?" He chuckled and hugged you back, tightly, which ended up squeezing your breasts together and showing off the top you had on. Perfect. "I'm good, sweetness. What's the deal with sour-puss over there?" He said, pointing to Jason. You looked over to your boyfriend who was trying to look calm but you saw how angry he was. Oh well, served him right. "Oh don't mind him. I'm more concerned with you guys. What's new? How's your week been? I haven't seen you guys in so long I was beginning to forget what you looked like!" Jason let out a curt laugh and stalked out of the room. Once he was out of earshot, you let out a sigh and put your head in your hands. "Whoa, (Y/n) what's wrong? Are you two fighting?" Dick asked, rubbing your back. You let a tear fall. "I don't even know! He was fine last night then I woke up and he was on the couch and has been outright ignoring me or been really rude all day and I don't know what I did besides wake up!" You started to cry a bit more and Dick got visibly upset. "Let me guess, you were using me to make him jealous? Hurt him like he's hurting you, in a sense?" You looked up. "Yes, Dick, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to use you that way I just-"

He stopped you by putting his hand up. "I'm in. He's being an asshole, he deserves it"

"Todd's been annoying since I've known him but this is different. You two are usually disgustingly clingy and I can't believe I miss that. Make him pay." Damian said and walked away. You and Dick looked at each other and laughed heartily just as Jason walked in drinking a soda. He looked at the two of you and asked, "What are you two laughing at?"

"Oh (y/n) just said something so funny! She said.. well then.. oh you had to be there I guess." Dick said. Jason huffed and went to sit down again, this time grabbing the remote on his way and turning the tv way up. You knew he was trying to drown you out. Dick had an idea though. "(Y/n), you know what game I haven't played since I was younger?" You were genuinely curious. "What's that, Dick?" He looked you dead in the eyes and said "Twister." You immediately knew what he was doing and played along. "Oh, I love Twister! No one ever wants to play with me. It's like you grow up and no one has fun anymore. Do you happen to have the game?" Dick grinned. "Why yes I do, sweetness. Yes I do. Jason, you wanna play?" Jason mumbled a "No thanks." Before he finished the soda and smashed the can in one hand. Drama queen. Dick grabbed the game and set it up right behind the couch and right in Jason's line of sight. "Okay I'll go first," Dick said. "Okay... right hand red." You then took turns spinning and moving around the board. Unfortunately for you, you barely touched each other until the 15th turn. Finally your bodies were entwined and you two were in a fit of giggles, genuinely enjoying yourselves and forgetting Jason all together. That is until you two fell, Dicks arm accidentally pulling your shirt and exposing the lacy bralette with his face inches away from yours. A sudden, "AHEM!" Brought you back to the reality of the situation. "What the hell is this!?" Jason screamed. Oh boy. This was more than you had anticipated, you never meant to get that close to Dick physically, just play the game and make Jason squirm then go home and screw it out. But Jason was pissed. This was bad. "Jason, I-" you start but he goes and grabs you by the arm, pulling you up and away from Dick. Dick, knowing it was all a joke in the first place, let Jason go off on him. "Keep your fucking hands off my girl, fucker. Next time you won't walk away looking so pretty." Dick got up with his hands up and walked away, leaving you and Jason alone in the living room. He looked at you adjust your shirt and fumed. Breathing heavily. You knew Jason would never hurt you but you had to admit, he looked scary. He reaches his hand out and touched your cheek with restraint. His eyes were clouded with unshed tears. "Go up to my old room." You were about to cry yourself. You just wanted to teach him a lesson, not really hurt him. "Jason, I'm sorry I know it looked bad but-" you start but he cuts you off. "Now!" He growled. Not wanting to start an argument in the living room, you go up and sit on the bed that's been left there. Jason walked in and slammed the door shut, stalking over to you. You take in a deep breath. "You're fucking Grayson, aren't you?" He whispered. You started back wide eyed. "What!?"

"I heard you in your sleep last night! 'Oh Dick, don't stop, oh!' I thought I was just being stupid but then you wanted to come here and you dress like a fucking whore for your side piece? Now I know I'm right. So why huh? What did I do? I don't fuck you like he does? Is it because he's just 'sooo sweet?'" By now he had you pinned to the bed between his arms, you were laying on your back and he was right on top of you. You took a deep breath. "I'm not fucking Dick. And how DARE you accuse me of something and then rather than ask me about it and let me explain, you just sulk!" He was getting restless and didn't know what to do. You could tell he was losing control. You expected him to punch the wall. You expected him to get up and look for Dick and beat him to a pulp. What you didn't expect was for him to kiss you passionately like his life depended on it; but that's exactly what he did. He broke away with tears leaking down his face. "I can't lose you, (y/n). I can't. I don't deserve you in the first place so it wouldn't surprise me if you left me but seeing you dressed like this, his body rubbing up against yours.. why did you do that!?" He started out sweet and sincere but ended up getting angry all over again. You knew nothing you would say now would help so you let him go off. "Take off your clothes, now. I'll show you who you belong to." You listen to him and take everything off, leaving on your bra and panties and he undressed to absolutely nothing. He grabs your hips, tears your underwear in half, and waists no time pounding into you. It stung at first but became pleasurable as he continued his assault.

He had never fucked you like this. "You feel that dick, baby? You feel it? That's all you're going to feel. Forever. You're MINE. Dick could never touch you like this. Never make you feel like I do." He reaches between your legs to rub your clit. You moaned out his name. "God, Jason.." "oh, so you can say my name? Say it again, doll. Say it loud. I want Grayson to hear." He quickened his pace and you moaned, unable to formulate the words. Because you didn't speak up, he stopped all together. You got frustrated and screamed "MY GOD JASON, FUCK ME!" He laughed and said "Whatever you want, princess." And began driving into you. Faster than bed before. He grabbed your hair and said, "Say it. Come on, baby, say you're mine." You moaned at his husky tone. "I'm all yours, baby.. oh GOD JASON!" You were about to cum and he was close to, you could feel his cock get harder inside of you. You looked up at him straight into his eyes, and held his face with both hands. "I.. love ...you... only you..." you said between thrusts. With those words, he came undone and came inside you, setting off your own mind blowing orgasm. As you both came down from your high, you looked up at him, still inside you. "I love you, Jason." He pulled out and lay next to you. "I know you do, I love you too, I just.. why were you acting like that today? You had a dream about Grayson so.. do you want him on some level?" You sat up and made sure you made eye contact. "I had a nightmare last night. Dick was the Joker and he.. he was doing those terrible things to you. I didn't say "Oh Dick, don't stop" I said Dick! Don't! STOP!" As in, stop killing the man I love. And I dressed like this today for you because I figured you had a nightmare and wanted to bring you out of your funk. But you were mean to me so I was going to flirt with one of the boys a bit, nothing too bad, just enough to make you jealous so you'd talk to me about why you were upset. Then during Twister Dick actually fell, that was an accident, I swear. I have 0 feelings for him." Jason was watching you the whole time you spoke and when you stopped he placed his hand on your hair, bringing you in for a kiss. Then he reached in the drawer and pulled out a box. "(Y/n) I have kept this ring here since I first met you. I didn't want it at the apartment in case you found it and I thought it was silly of me to get it in the first place after knowing you for a short time but we have been together for a while now and you know I love you and-"

"Jason, spit I out." He laughed and opened the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you've ever seen. "(Y/n) will you marry me?" You put the ring on and cried. "Yes! Of course.. as long as you start telling me when you're upset" he smiled the biggest smile he's ever smiled and agreed.

The end

[alouiadina]

Does anyone want to discuss au/headcanons with me?

MotA- Rosielemmons, CurtDickie, Clegan, jackharding, Crubbles, Blakely x Douglass, DeMarco x Brady

Top Gun- Icemav, Hangster, sloose (maybe)

Supernatural (I guess)- Destiel, Sabriel, Saileen, dreamhunter, midam

[alouiadina]

Hey guys, guess who's sick again? And guess who's asking for more asks?