#MotA fic

[whirlpool-blogs]

do you guys see what I am saying here -

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose - Part 9

read previous parts here.

It's time for the truth to come out, no matter what the cost. With friendship on the line, will Olive finally find it within herself to be truly honest?

Brakes screeching, cars colliding in the pouring rain. The smell of burning oil. An abrupt pain in the chest, a girl struggling to breathe. A man slumped on her, ailing gasps leaving his mouth as his life slipped away…

“No!” Olive yells, awakening herself with a cry. Feeling a heat rise in her chest, she tries to steady herself and breathe, gripping fistfuls of the blanket she'd been sleeping under. The soft snores of her best friend, Valencia DiRosano, in the bed opposite her own begin to settle her, Olive keeping in time with the hum of Val's breathing. 

Counting her lucky stars that her sudden yelp didn't awaken Val, she wipes the sheen of sweat from her face with her nightgown as she sits up, beginning to pad across to the bathroom. 

As she washes her face, Olive begins to count on her soapy fingers and tries to calculate how many days she'd been here without going to check on Pearl. Was it three? No, more. Four or five? A week? Surely not. Olive shakes her head at herself in the mirror in front of her, toothbrush in her mouth. She sees the tiredness etched on her face, her eyes beginning to look withdrawn. Something had to give, and soon. 

Rushing out the door, she's surprised to see a thick fog upon the air today. So thick, in fact, that she's unable to see much in her trajectory, walking to the hardstand by memory alone. It's when she bumps her shoulder on the wing of Just A-Snappin that she hears a loud bark in the distance, a gruff voice following it.

“Who is it, fella? Someone else out with us this early?”

“Shit,” Olive breathes, recognizing the voice as her friend Benny Demarco's. 

“Go get her then, buddy, go say good morning!”

Running up the stairs at a startling speed, Olive slams the door of the aircraft shut, hoping she wasn’t spotted after all.

***

The sun shines almost too brightly on Olive as she makes the walk to Pearl’s, quietly swinging open the metal gate and ridiculously shushing it as it squeaks, the scraping noise making her cringe. It’s when she reaches the door that she feels something untoward, the energy from outside seeming different than usual. Making her way in, pushing on the warped wooden door as she unlocks it, she is surprised to find Pearl alone in the kitchen, staring at the kettle and willing for it to boil faster. 

Olive accidentally shocks her Grandmother, making her presence known a lot more prematurely than planned when her keys clatter on the dining table.

“Christ alive!” Pearl yells, dramatically clutching her chest. “You little devil!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, holding her hands up in apology and mock surrender. “That wasn’t meant to be so loud.”

“Just like your bloody father,” she teases. “The expression ‘bull in a china shop’ comes to mind.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t know where we get it,” she replies, as Pearl clatters around with the sugar tin and stirs her now prepared tea with a spoon, clanging it on the mug with each clockwise spin. “You’re awake early, Grandma.”

“God forbid I want some alone time,” she winks, sipping at the beverage. “Between you coming in and out and Joan hovering, I barely get any time to myself in this place.”

“Hey, we can back off,” Olive cackles, taking the glass bottle of milk from the counter and putting it to her lips.

“I don’t think so, lady,” Pearl scolds, eyebrows raised. “Get a glass.”

“Yes, Grandma,” she sighs, leaning up on her tiptoes to retrieve her favorite one - Tots TV, a show from her childhood. Pearl spots it and smiles, her eyes softening with the nostalgia of remembering this young woman in front of her as a toddler, squeezed in the armchair with her as they both dozed, the sounds of the gentle theme song somehow lulling them both to sleep. 

“You know I’m only kidding, right, Ollie Pop?”

“About what?”

“The alone time, Joan hovering…”

“No, pal, I know. I’d feel quite the same to be honest.”

“I just miss my independence, y’know. Just being able to do little things myself. I seem to be getting stronger each day, though. Look, I even made my own tea!”

“I know. I’m proud of you,” Olive begins, emotion threatening to get the better of her. “You’ve come a long way. Soon enough, you’ll be back to your old self, up to your old tricks. Beating all the other ladies at bingo and seeing them bubble with anger over it.”

Her eyes narrow, a titter leaving her lips. “They know they’ve all got it coming, especially that Doreen. Cheating old hag.”

“Pearl!” Olive snorts, milk almost streaming from her nostrils. “At least you kept your humor.”

“At least there’s that, hm?” 

Pearl reaches over and grips her granddaughter’s hand, staring into her eyes for just a moment. 

“I like the outfit,” she says as Olive looks down at herself. Her eyes widen a little, realizing that she’d gotten dressed on autopilot: blue jumpsuit, boots, button down underneath. “Something for work?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Olive stutters, shaking her head at the inner voice picking at her brain, bullying her to tell the truth. “Something like that.”

“I don’t usually go for re-enactment stuff, Ol, but I must say, they’re keeping very accurate.”

“How so?”

“Well, putting British girls in Red Cross uniforms. I don’t know how they managed it, but when I was over at the base, doing my work as a Land Girl, the lovely American girls acquired one more lass. It’s as if she appeared out nowhere; a British girl, but she fit right in. I don’t know how they got to keep her on because I heard the requirements were crazy!”

“Haha,” Olive forces out, keeping her eyes on the table. She hopes that, by avoiding eye contact, she won’t be able to give anything away. Nevertheless, Pearl carries on.

“She had a lovely boyfriend. He was gorgeous, had these beautiful blue eyes. She was always laughing at everything he said.”

“Obviously a funny guy, Pearly,” Olive giggles, the thought of every silly joke of Dougie’s coming to mind.

“Must’ve been,” she nods. “But I had my eye on someone else, you see.”

“Who?” Olive urges, keen to be reminded. She rests her elbow on the table, her cheek resting on her hand. “Tell me, tell me!”

“I don’t remember his name, but I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. He was so handsome. He and his dog would cause such chaos.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Olive mumbles, clearing her throat. “You never thought to ask him for a dance?”

“He asked me out for a drink, but it never happened. I was moving away by the time I could say yes, and I never remembered his name to send him a letter to apologize. Poor boy probably thinks I stood him up!”

“Yeah,” Olive laughs weakly. She stands, walking over to Pearl and plants a kiss on her cheek. 

“What’s that for?”

“Just love your little stories, girly. You should write them all down for me.”

“I actually–”

The pair are distracted by the door swinging open, the wind seeming to try to take it off its hinges as it slams against the wall. 

“And you thought I was loud,” Olive gestures, shaking her head. “Hi, Joan.”

“Ah, this is a surprise.”

“Not really, Joan. I do live here.”

“You know what I mean, Olive,” she sighs, patting Pearl on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting her up.”

“No need, she did that all by herself. Made a tea and everything.”

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not in the bloody room,” she interjects, exasperated. “Yes, Joan, I got out of my own bed and made my own tea. Like a regular person should.”

“I’m glad,” Joan says, her shoulders falling a little with relief. “Fancy going into town and having a look around the shops? Lunch, too? My treat.”

“That’ll be lovely,” Pearl smiles, nodding along at her suggestion. “Change of scenery and some fresh air will do me good.”

Joan turns to Olive before going to pour her own cup of tea. “You’re welcome to join us, of course, Olive.”

“Thanks, Joan, but I’m gonna clean up around here a little. My bedroom is a sty and it needs a good tidy. You two have fun, though!”

“You need anything bringing back, kiddo?”

“Nah, Pearly. I’m all set.”

***

After showering - Olive willing to never take a power shower for granted ever again - and throwing on her comfiest clothes while her jumpsuit was in the washing machine, she began to tidy. She began at her bookshelf, placing her precious books straight before becoming easily distracted, thumbing through well worn copies of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Hamlet and Much Ado About Nothing. Fishing for a backpack from under her bed, she stuffs each book in with care, glad to find something to occupy her mind when there was no work to be done on mission days.

It’s when she’s dusting the shelves that something falls from a height. A sparkling gold catches her eye from the floor, Olive holding her breath in both disbelief and anticipation as she bends down to pick it up. She holds the locket in her hands for the first time in years, turning it over in her hands thrice before opening it up.

“Hello,” she speaks softly, keeping the words for the man in the picture. “Where’ve you been hiding?” 

Olive holds the heart shaped pendant in her hand a few moments more, taking in the features and expressions of her father, Oscar. There he was, smiling so gleefully that he was blushing, his cheeks a delightful shade of pink as he holds a small baby close to him. Baby Olive, a few weeks old, is looking at her father with awe, the same expression she carried on her face for the rest of his life whenever he was around. Her heart pounds unpleasantly as her mind reruns her dream from this morning; the crash, the car buckling all around them. Oscar slumping on his daughter as he took his final breath…

Olive snaps the locket closed at the memory, willing her brain to muster up better ones they shared. She places the chain around her neck and clasps it at the back, hoping that by wearing it, by keeping him close again, the bad memories can be saturated. 

***

Olive pulls out a sheet of paper and grabs a pen, intending to write Pearl and Joan a letter to explain her absence from the house when the door opens, the pair of them traipsing in with a shiver. 

“It’s cold out there, Ollie Pop,” Pearl shudders, nodding her head towards Olive’s coat that’s upon the hook as she looks at the jumpsuit she is wearing. “Wear something more than that if you’re heading out.”

“I was just about to write down that I was off again. Are you sure you don’t need me?”

“Absolutely sure,” Joan responds, closing the door behind her out of habit despite Olive saying she was about to leave. “Your grandma is right though, it’s bloody freezing. That wind has got a bite to it.”

“Turned quickly,” Olive observes, pulling on the mentioned jacket. “It was sunny when I got here.”

“Wasn’t it? Good old temperamental British weather, hm?”

“Got that right. Well, I’m off,” Olive announces, pecking Pearl on the cheek and giving her a quick squeeze.

“Don’t get lost!”

“Me? Never.”

***

There had been some ungraceful descents from the fort over the few weeks of going back and forth between the years, but today’s was about to go on record as the worst. Assuming that Kenny, Wink or one of the ground crew, had seen fit to leave the stairs exactly where they had been earlier this morning, Olive sticks one foot out of the door, only to be surprisingly greeted with air beneath her feet. Before she can register what’s happening, she steps down, sending herself flying through the air to the ground with a yelp.

“Fuck me,” she cries, once again finding herself winded on the hardstand of Thorpe Abbotts. Slowly gaining her breath back, she sits up, only to be greeted by a rowdy husky who is intent on giving one of his favorite girls a good morning kiss as a hello.

“Dang dog,” she giggles, scritching the space between his ears. “Morning.”

“Olive! Knew it was you,” Benny says, making his presence known by coming out of the fog. “What the hell are you doing all the way out here this early? Lemmons isn’t hankering for a donut that bad is he?”

“No, errm, no, no, he isn’t,” Olive winces, her voice raising a few octaves as she bites through another set of lies today. She sighs, standing up and brushing herself off. “I was just coming back from–”

His face is suddenly serious, the most solemn she’s ever seen him. “What are you doing out here, Ol?”

“Well, I–it’s just…” she stutters, her mouth filling with saliva as she talks. “I’m–ugh, Benny, I can’t lie to you.”

He crosses his arms, ready for an answer. He shakes his head, his eyebrows raised in an agitated manner. “Well?”

“Remember how I fell at your feet a few weeks ago?”

“Uh-huh…”

“And how it’s like I just appeared out of nowhere? Thin air?”

“Get to the point, Ol.”

“Jeez, okay,” she snides back, wincing in preparation for his reaction. “I’m from the future.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m from the future,” she repeats, seeing Benny’s arms uncross and his face go back to its usual kind expression. “I’m from the year 2021.”

“Hold on,” he says, the palm of his hand now resting on his forehead. “But how–”

“Dunno, bud. I clambered into this thing in my time and ended up here, in 1943. Fighting this war with you all.”

“I just–who else knows?”

“Kenny, Wink, and now you.”

“Val?”

“Not yet, Benny. I haven’t found the right time, or the right way to explain it. I mean, listen to me. It’s insane!”

“Got that right,” he exhales, puffing his cheeks. “Kenny found out before me? Before Dougie? Before Val?!”

“Listen, Kenny caught me the other night and I can’t lie very well, as you’ve just beared witness to. What else was I supposed to do when he caught me clambering up the stairs of a B-17?”

“Look, I can understand you not telling me, Dougie and Ev just yet. But Val? I’m surprised at you, Olive.”

“Yeah,” she squeaks, her throat closing around a lump within it. “Because, like, what if they don’t believe me, hm? What then?”

“I believe you,” Benny says, his voice soft on the cool morning breeze. “You’re my baby sis. I believe you. I’ll back you up, Ol.”

“You will?”

“Always! It’s fucking nuts,” he laughs, shaking his head and shrugging. “But I believe you.”

“How do you believe me so easily? And with no questions?”

“I don't know. I just feel like you of all people wouldn't lie to me.” He pauses for a second. “Also, pretty wild thing to lie about, huh?”

She laughs, the sound crawling up from her belly.

“Right? Anyway, baby sis is actually quite literal now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he laughs again. “What year were you born?”

“1997.”

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, running a hand through his hair. Looking a little less stressed, he finds her hand and grips it. “Something tells me you were always meant to be here, pal.”

“You know what, I think so, too. Meatball wouldn’t have led me here otherwise.”

He nods, petting the dog at his feet. “You want me to walk you home?”

“Please,” she agrees, linking her arm through his. “I’m knackered.”

“Nah-kurred,” Benny mocks, keeping Olive close so they don’t lose one another in the thick fog that hasn’t budged since they woke up this morning.

“Don’t take the piss, Bernard. I’ll spit in your eye.”

“There it is. I see learning from Val is going well.”

***

Benny pulls her into a comforting embrace upon escorting her back to the Red Cross hut, opening the door for her as gently as he can while trying - and failing -  to keep Meatball quiet so as to not wake the other girls. 

“Shut your pie hole, pal,” he whispers, his teeth gritted. “Yes, yes, it is breakfast time. You think I don’t know that? Maybe put your friends before your stomach just this once.” 

As Benny talks, Meatball’s head tilts this way and that as if he is truly listening and understanding every word. Both Olive and Benny see the dog’s ears prick up just once during their exchange: when the word ‘breakfast’ was mentioned. 

“Heard your belly rumble, too, Demarco,” Olive observes, the subtle sound ceasing as he lets out a sigh. 

“I am. But I’m not crazy about those eggs, Ol.”

“No shit, buddy. Be patient; East Anglia’s finest donuts, coming right up.”

“Can’t wait,” he says, beginning to walk away. “C’mon, Meatball, let’s go.”

Seeing him and the mutt disappear back into the fog, Olive creeps through the door that Benny had opened for her, hoping that both Val and Helen were still snoozing. Much to her relief, they are, Valencia still snoring the same way she was when Olive left, and Helen, wrapped up in her blanket like a caterpillar waiting to emerge from its chrysalis. 

Olive slings the bag off her shoulder and places it on her bunk before sitting down, pulling the dog-eared copies of the books she retrieved from her bedroom at Pearl’s out of the bag. She begins thumbing through them once again, grabbing a stray pencil and begins to annotate, already keen to present Brady’s girl, Jules, with another analysis in the coming weeks. It’s a line in Hamlet that catches her eye, quickly underlining it before snapping the book shut as Valencia begins to stir.

‘This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day…Thou canst not then be false to any man.’

“Morning, chickie,” Val yawns, stretching her arms above her head with a groan before standing up and making her way to the washroom, rubbing at her eyes as she goes. On her way, she shakes Helen awake, a pained moan coming from the cocoon she’s created herself. 

“Not yet,” she whines, nuzzling back into her pillow. “I was just about to have my big kissing moment with Jimmy Stewart.”

“Well, you can resume that at bedtime,” Val shouts behind her. “There’s donuts to be made, and a certain Herbert Nash to look at.”

“Well, if you’re putting it that way…”

“If it gets you out of bed, doll, I’ll say anything.

***

“Good morning, kids,” Tattie greets, flinging open the door to the hut with her foot. Her hands are full, the objects clanging as she sets them down on a small table. “Right, some housekeeping. Pulled some strings with the friends in high places, and Olive,” she says, turning to her with her hands on her hips, “you’re being allowed to stay.”

“All about who ya know, isn’t it, Tat?”

“Indeed,” she nods, a triumphant smile making her eyes crinkle. “I mean, look at this face! What kind of father would say no to this? Even if he can’t see it, he knows I’d be giving him the puppy eyes. Think the memory of that weakened him.” She pauses for a second, picking up the silver objects she’d discarded a moment earlier. “Anyway, in regards to that, we’ve all been given dog tags to wear now, as part of our uniform.” 

She gives each girl their dog tag, the tag itself looped on the regulation silver ball chain. Olive places hers around her neck before tucking it into her jumpsuit, the tag dangling just below where her locket sits neatly on her clavicle. 

“Let’s get going, girls,” Tattie coos, a mother hen herding her little chicks. The weather shocks both Valencia and Helen, the pair of them looking at their surroundings with wide eyes.

“They can’t fly in this, surely?” Helen says, shaking her head with worry.

“Surely not,” Val replies, slipping her hand into Olive’s. It feels clammy, Olive feeling the anxiety emanate off her instantly. “They’ll be grounded. Chicky will ground them, right?” Val squeezes at Olive’s hand for a response, the second girl unsure if Val was talking out loud or expecting an answer. Olive clears her throat, squeezing back reassuringly.

“Right,” she agrees, her head on Val’s shoulder for just a fleeting moment. “I think you’re right.”

As they reach the truck, they are surprised to see four men standing around it, two leaning against it for balance. Jack Kidd, Everett Blakely, James Douglass and Herbert Nash all deep in conversation, exchanging stories of home and their families, perk up even more at the sight of their girls in the early morning light.

“What in the world…” Valencia begins, her footsteps picking up pace to greet Everett with a good morning kiss. Olive feels herself do the same to reach her guy, followed by Helen. The only one that keeps their cool is Tattie Spaatz, addressing Kidd with only a quiet hello. 

“Hello, you,” Olive murmurs, leaning up to kiss Dougie. “How are you?”

“Morning, dumpling,” he replies, nuzzling into her.

“What did you call me?” she laughs, her arms wrapping around him. “Never heard that as a pet name before.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not my favorite,” she replies, rubbing her nose against his. “Maybe try some others?”

“Oh, uh. Don’t worry, there’s a few more up here,” he responds, tapping his finger to his temple.

“Get away,” she teases, shoving him softly. “When did you all orchestrate this early morning surprise, anyhow?”

“When we all walked to bed last night. The four of us, we thought it would be a nice idea.”

“It was. It really was,” she says, kissing him again. “If you stay, coffee will be ready in a few.”

“What do you think I’m here for? No sugar, please, lovey.”

“I know…oh, that one’s sweet. I like that one!”

He grins at her cheekily, that twinkle in his eye ever present. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, his cheeks turning pink. 

“You’re cute,” she teases, pinching his cheek softly and turning to climb into the truck.

***

Coffee finally brewed and a batch of donuts ready for the hungry men of Thorpe Abotts, the gang hears the slap of feet running on the pavement, and the sound of two small children giggling. Billy and Sammy race their way to the Clubmobile as fast as their legs would carry them, almost diving headfirst into the counter.

“Steady on, lads, you almost took out Captain Blakely!” Olive urges, picking up two fresh donuts for them. “Just out of the fryer.”

“Wow, thanks, Miss,” Sammy says. Val joins them, holding two cups of coffee for the boys. “Don’t tell your mothers, for God’s sake,” she says, patting Sammy on the shoulder and ruffling through Billy’s curls. The youngins cheer quietly, excited over being given this, to them, forbidden beverage.

“You’re giving already excitable children coffee? Before school? Jesus, that poor teacher.”

“Don’t sweat it, Ol. It’s mostly milk.”

“Ohhhh. Smart.”

“Not just a pretty face,” she cackles, heading back to the truck.

“The prettiest, though,” Ev interjects, handing her his half smoked cigarette. “Maude,” he nods in her direction. “Any idea where Dougie went?”

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, confused. She hadn’t even seen him leave, and was a little sore at his sudden exit without so much as a goodbye. She huffs a little, lighting her own cigarette and letting the smoke from the first drag stream through her nostrils. 

“Okay, sourpuss,” Ev japes, pointing through the fog that's beginning to clear. “Here he comes.”

“Where did you go?” Olive asks, her face still etched with a little sadness.

“Forgot something,” he responds breathlessly, smiling down at his girl. He has a jacket strewn over his shoulder, and hands it to her as he takes the cigarette from her mouth and pulls on it. “This is for you.”

“For me?” she gasps, unfolding it. It smells just like him, and covered in different patches that he’d obviously exchanged for smokes. She grins at him, lost for words. “This is–wow.”

“It’s for when I’m not here,” he murmurs, helping her put it on. “So you can feel close to me.”

“That’s so sweet, Dougie. Thank you.” She fumbles for a second, panicking. “I don’t have anything to give you!”

“Hey, don’t worry about it–”

“Wait!” she yelps, fiddling with her collar. “I do have something.” 

She fiddles with the two chains around her neck, pulling at the spare dog tag that hangs a little lower than the other. She unclasps it and hands it to him; his turn to be speechless, his mouth open in surprise and a hand running quickly through his neatly pomaded hair. 

“Gee, Ollie. Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That’s–heh, now I don’t know what to say. You’re really my girl, huh?”

“Sure am.” 

He grabs her by the back of her neck and kisses her deeply, her hands finding balance on his chest as she’s thrust into him. They feel one another smile as their lips meet, a moment that makes them feel like they’re in their own little world. 

He places the tag around his own chain after they break apart, Olive's tag dangling close to his heart. 

“Ah,” he mutters, patting it gently. “Perfect.” 

She grins at him, heat rising from her chest and spreading over her cheeks. He glances down at her open jumpsuit, her clavicle still visible. His eyes light up when he sees the gold locket sitting pretty, hand coming out to touch it. 

“Got room for me in there?”

“You know it,” she swoons. “Right next to my Papa.” Her fingers touch his as she takes the locket from his gentle grasp, beginning to open it and not paying a thought to the color picture of her father within it. The world seems to slow down as the locket almost opens, everything coming back into focus at the sound of Everett Blakely's voice from the back of the truck.

“Doug, you need more smokes?” he calls, Dougie planting a quick kiss to Olive’s forehead and rushing over to him. She exhales a breath she barely noticed she had been withholding, opening the locket for just a quick second. 

“I'll tell him, promise,” she whispers to the picture. “I'll tell them all.”

“Come on, ya rabble. Get inside!” Chick Harding struts out of the briefing room, making his way up to Val at the window of the truck. He opens his mouth to ask for his coffee, mouth left hanging open as Valencia places the cup in front of him, already made to his exact taste. She pours a second for Red Bowman before placing two donuts on napkins and wordlessly handing the goodies over. 

“Thank you, Valencia,” he says, clearly surprised. “I need to get you girls together real quick. Miss Tattie, can you close up once the fellas are all in briefing?”

“Errm…yes?” She replies, clearly confused. She looks towards her girls, shrugging. “I guess start cleaning up a little, we'll come back to it.”

“We're not in trouble, are we?” Helen asks, her eyes worriedly darting between her friends. “I mean, I know we aren't exactly allowed to form romances with the men, it's right there in the rules, but…”

“It's a silly rule,” Tattie responds, puffing on her cigarette. “How do they expect us not to form bonds with these fellas?”

“Don't stress yourself, chicken,” Olive joins, pulling her into a hug. “I'm sure Chicky just wants to remind us that we need to keep Meatball tied to the post.” 

“You're probably right. He hasn't mentioned knowing about Nash and I, neither has Red, so–”

“Helen, that man has eyes in the back of his ass. He knows everything: the all seeing eyes from the watchtower.”

“Okay, that's not terrifying at all. Save it for Halloween, English!”

***

Red Bowman stands broadly at the door of the briefing hut, hands on his hips as the girls walk towards him. Val is sporting that signature furrow, albeit softer this time, as if she is deep in anxious thought.

“Spaatz, DiRosano, Porter, Lewis,” he greets, nodding at each of them as he says their name. “Come on in.”

They follow him silently, the girls catching the eye of some of the men as they enter. Chicky spots them from where he is standing across the room, fat cigar freshly lit between his teeth.

“Girls,” he says in that thundering voice of his. 

“Chicky,” Tattie responds as he joins them near the door. Lighting a smoke of her own, she looks at him suspiciously. “Care to reveal why you’ve pulled us in here?”

“Need ya to look after that damn mutt,” he huffs, a billow of smoke leaving his nostrils and mouth as he replies. “Make sure he don’t distract the boys none.”

“Uh-huh,” Tattie responds, still staring at him narrow-eyed. “Surely you don’t need all four of us to do that? Meatball is hard work but, sir, not that dang hard.”

He laughs, gesturing for the girls to move closer to him. They bunch in, including Red, the communal circle growing tighter at his silent command. “Bowman, tell ‘em.”

Red clears his throat and finally relaxes his stance. “We don’t just want ya in here to watch the dog. We’ve seen how close some of ya have got to these men and we don’t feel it’s fair to keep ya in the dark. It’s a big one, and we don’t want ya moping around and playing guessing games. We want ya all in the know. Got me?”

“We gotcha,” Val replies. “Doesn’t lessen the worry though, Red.”

“No, I know,” he agrees, exhaling an audible deep breath through his nose. “But it takes away the mystery. They’d tell ya anyway, but…”

“But you think we deserve to know,” Olive squeaks, nodding in agreement. 

“That’s right.”

Tattie finally lets her eyes open wider, also nodding along. Helen joins, her lips pressed together in a line of worry. “Where shall we sit?”

“At the back if you don’t mind, girls,” Chicky interjects, showing them to four spare seats. “Keep that mutt under control. No playing fetch during the briefing!”

At the word ‘fetch,’ a whine shrills from Meatball, the husky suddenly ready to play. 

“Not now, buddy,” Olive soothes, scritching at his fur before taking her seat. “Later, mkay?”

Distracted by giving attention to Meatball, Olive doesn’t register the large presence of Curt Biddick sauntering up to them and greeting Val in the same way he has since childhood.

“There she is!” he cries. “There’s the gal. Hey, whatcha doin’ in here? This ain’t your usual spot before a mission.”

“We know,” she murmurs, standing to relay the information Red and Chicky gave them. They speak in hushed tones, Olive noticing Curt nodding at every appropriate stage of the conversation. 

“Well, that’s good of him to think of ya like that,” he says, his hand gripping at hers. “Yous all should be in the know. It’s only right.”

“You wanna sit with us?” Olive offers, patting a spare seat on the right of her.

“Nah, thanks though, Ol. Dickie saved me a spot up front.”

“Ah, grand,” she nods, going back to the dog and drowning him in the attention he keeps whining for.

“Well, I’ll be seein’ yous. Val, make me a coffee after.”

“Pain in my ass!”

***

As the briefing begins, Olive feels Helen next to her, elbowing her gently.

“Hey, Ol!” she whispers through her teeth, head nodding towards where James Douglass is sat next to Harry Crosby. 

“Mhm?” Olive replies, catching Dougie turn around and wink at her at the same moment. She smiles at him softly, winking back.

“That,” she giggles, hand covering her mouth to muffle the sound as Chick Harding’s voice blares throughout the room and capturing the attention of each airman. “I was trying to tell you that.”

“So high school,” she teases, shaking her head and joining in the giggles. “What a sweetie.”

“He loves you,” she says, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Oh, shut it, Porter,” she bites back, smiling nonetheless. 

“And you love him.”

“Give over, doll. I’ll spit in your eye.”

“Go for it. I’d take it, because I know I’m right.”

Olive sighs, shaking her head and leaning against her. She feels Meatball finally settle, his head on her legs and huffing slightly, surrounded by all his people and none of them willing to play.

“Quit sassing,” Olive softly scolds, petting his soft ears. “We will play later.”

“What’s up?” Val leans over, reaching to pat Meatball. 

“He’s having a tantrum ‘cos all his friends are in the same room and not a single one can play.”

“He’s just a baby, that’s why,” Helen coos, making kissy faces at him. 

“Girls, don’t make Chicky regret inviting us in here,” Tattie hisses, passing cigarettes down the line. “Hush up, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all say in unison, suddenly sitting up straight and keen to listen.

The curtain that is covering a large map on the wall is pulled - almost with a flourish - by the Colonel, the airmen making noises of suspense. It's Curt, sitting a few rows ahead of the usual guys, next to his co-pilot Dickie, who speaks first, his voice a little softer than everyone else is used to. 

“Why's that line go all the way to Africa?”

“Africa?!” The word leaves Olive's mouth in a squeak before she can stop it, clapping a hand over her mouth immediately following it. Meatball whimpers at the sudden mood change, those literal puppy eyes full of concern that his girl is suddenly afraid. 

“Here,” Val says, elbowing Olive gently in the ribs. She hands her Tattie’s hip flask, shoving it in her hand. “Calm yourself.”

Olive does so, taking a chaste gulp from the flask and wincing at the burn of the alcohol racing down her throat. 

“Better?”

She nods, handing it back to Val so it reaches its original owner. Val looks back at Olive with the same concern that's gripped Meatball, her hand suddenly gripping Olive’s.

“Doll, you've never reacted like this.”

“I'm aware,” Olive whispers back, her voice shaking. “Fucking Africa, Valencia. Africa.”

Her nervousness momentarily fades away as Dougie turns around to smile at her again, her grinning back instantly. They hold it for a moment, Olive getting lost in his beautiful eyes even from this distance. She feels Helen nudge her again, nodding triumphantly.

“I didn't say you were wrong, doll.”

“Oh, I knew it, English!”

***

“See you all in a few days,” is Colonel Harding’s departing remark as the airmen begin to file out of the room. Tattie is the one to lead the girls out, the three others following her like ducks in a row once again. Olive is so distracted by not bumping into a dozen other men that she barely notices Dougie waiting for her in the doorway, along with Ev who is waiting for Valencia.

“How did you sneak in this time, babydoll?”

“No sneaking required, James,” she grins, him pulling her into an embrace. “We were invited. Chick and Red thought it appropriate to let us in on what you boys are doing - lessens the anxiety apparently.”

“And did it help any?”

“Not one bit,” Olive replies. “Enemy territory,” she says, her voice squeaking as her throat closes, the effort of keeping tears at bay. “Then fucking Africa.”

“Hey, now,” he soothes, his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek. “I’ll be home before you know it. I’ll even write you.”

“There won't be much point,” she laughs. “I'll end up getting it after you get home.”

“Hey, it's the thought that counts, right?”

She smiles, despite the single tear falling from her cheek. He wipes it away as soon as he sees it drop, a soft, comforting smile on his face. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” she sniffs. “I’m a tough girl.”

He nods. “I know you are.”

“I can take care of myself, don’t you fret.”

“You have,” he says. “You still do. You always will.” He leans in and kisses her sweetly on the lips, his hand still upon her now blushed cheek. “I’ve just joined in, too. Now we take care of each other, hm?”

She nods, pressing her nose and forehead to his, feeling every worry melt away for just a moment. He breaks the silence, moving back a little and holding her hand with his free one.

“Kept seeing your cute little smile while we were in there. I loved it.”

“Gosh, you’re just obsessed with me, aren’t you?” She replies with a giggle, obviously joking; she doesn’t expect his face to fall serious, his eyes darting all over her face, not quite being able to figure out where to look first. He settles on her eyes and then her mouth as he moves to kiss her again.

“Sure am, sugar.”

The pair are distracted by Tattie sauntering over, being followed by an overly giggly Helen who is trying to control a very giddy Meatball.

“Girls, there’s a truck to re-open and more hungry fellas hankering for donuts. Quit necking!” Despite her clear irritation, she winks at both Olive and Val, beckoning them to follow her once again. 

“Come on, handsome,” Olive says, pulling Dougie by the hand. “Let me get you a snack for the journey.”

***

“Meatball! Meatball, no!” Helen scolds, trying her best to tie his leash to the pole that stands right beside the Clubmobile. Seeing Helen crouch in front of him, he thinks it’s time to play, the hyper husky panting in her face. His tail begins to wag as he sees her reach into the pocket of her jumpsuit but is dismayed to find she has only reached in there to grab a handkerchief, capturing a surprise sneeze. “This dog hair! Tickles my nose something fierce.” Eyes now streaming, Helen struggles with completing the knot and looks towards her companions for assistance.

“Ol, a little help please! You’re the only one he listens to besides DeMarco.”

At the mention of his owner’s name, Meatball howls loudly and continues panting and wagging in excitement. Making her way to him and Helen, Olive laughs.

“He can’t hear you from all the way out here, buddy!” She takes the leash from Helen and ties it with a flourish in seconds, Helen looking on impressively. “Helen, we cannot say his name! You know that by now!”

“My bad!” She titters, groaning as she wipes at her eyes again. “He’s adorable but my goodness, these allergies.” 

A Jeep breaks through the fog with a loud screech, the noise startling the girls and the dog. Val, lighting a cigarette as she exits the truck, joins the other girls in order to investigate while Tattie continues cleaning, mumbling out loud to herself - something that the girls have deciphered she does when she is anxious.

“Garcia,” Val greets, recognizing him instantly. “How can we help ya?”

“Just wanted to let you all know, the boys have got a thirty minute delay. If ya wanted to say goodbye again, drop em another hot coffee to keep their spirits up.”

“Say less,” Olive replies, unhooking Meatball from his leash and gesturing for him to follow her. She clambers in, the dog leaping into her lap instantly. Val grabs another two coffees and a bag of donuts, Tattie and Helen waving them off.

“Step on it, Garcia,” Val laughs. “They’ll take the news better if it comes from us.”

“You got that right, DiRosano. Sure they like looking at you both a hell of a lot more than they like looking at me!”

Speeding through the mist, Garcia huffs a little, the brightest setting of lights not able to break through it. “It’s a real pea-souper, this one.”

“Do you reckon they’ll call it off?” Olive enquires, hoping for the answer she wants to hear.

“Not a chance, Lewis. This is a big one. Brass have taken a lotta risks and–well, I’d better zip it.”

“Nothing I won’t find out in a few weeks when I’m typing Chicky’s reports up,” Val retorts, reaching around to pet Meatball. “No need to keep it quiet.”

They conclude their drive in silence, Garcia seeming to have run out of polite conversation within a few moments. The brakes screech as they come to a stop, Olive patting Meatball on the rear to get him off her lap. Swiping at her navy blue jumpsuit to rid it of the hair, she loses him in the smog instantly and throws a ball in the direction he ran off in. Grabbing Val’s hand, as if she’s somehow able to lead her to the crew of Just A-Snappin’, she smiles at her wanely.

“Chickie, I can see through this haze just as well as you.”

“This way we don’t lose each other,” Olive cackles in return, resting her head on Val’s shoulder for a short second.

“Oh, never, girl. Never ever.” 

She looks her friend up and down as they walk hand in hand, Olive trying to wrap Dougie’s jacket around her with her spare hand. 

“Dougie’s?” Val asks, gesturing. 

“Yeah! Sewed all these on himself. Ain't it neat?”

“Sewed…himself?”

“Yeah!”

“Ol, I've been sewing his stuff since Ev and I started dating…oh, wait til I get my hands on him!”

***

“Looky here!” Dougie yells, clumsily getting up from the ground. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Garcia wanted us to share some news…”

“Uh-huh?”

“Thirty minute delay!” The girls yell in unison, trying their best to add some cheer to it. Olive even accompanies it with a singsong voice and jazz hands, Dougie almost falling over himself laughing at her. 

“The Clubmobile serving snacks and putting on a show now, Maude?” Everett Blakely pipes up as Val kisses him on the cheek.

“Hey, get it for free while you can. Olive and The Clubmobile Gals. It's got some pizzazz to it, huh?”

“You gonna be a star, Maude? Take care of all of us?”

“You bet, Ernest,” she laughs, feeling Dougie wrap his arms around her waist and give her a squeeze.

“This is the best way bad news has ever been given to me.”

“Those three years of drama school had to come in handy somewhere, my love. Here,” she says, handing him a brown bag full to burst with donuts. “For everyone, mind!”

“All of us?” Ev asks. “No chance. Via and Saunders don’t like donuts, Kidd and I are too busy flying the damn fort to even think about having a snack break, and Croz…” The group look over at him, laying on the concrete hardstand with his eyes closed, his head upon his briefcase. 

“Croz won’t keep ‘em down,” Dougie interjects, a triumphant expression on his face. “Looks like they’re all for me!”

“I've got a bone to pick with you, Douglass!” Val interjects, that classic brow furrow joined by a mischievous smile.

“What?!” he snorts, mouth full of donut. “What've I done now?”

“You're in trouble, baby boy.”

“You! Sewing!?”

“Oh–shit,” he swallows, holding his hands up defensively around a grin. “I know when I've been caught!”

“I've been–”

“I know,” he replies, laughing at her extremely pissed off expression. “Just makes me feel safer.”

Val softens instantly, as does Olive, the pair of them aww-ing and cooing at him. 

“Darling,” Olive pouts, kissing his cheek. “Very cute.”

“The puppy eyes work every time,” he retorts, grabbing Olive’s hand.

“Oh, you little shit!”

The group  make their way to where Croz is snoozing, Dougie sitting behind Olive so she can lean on him to get somewhat comfy as Valencia,  joined by Ev, sidles up to Curt the moment she spots him appearing through the fog.

“Drew you somethin’,” Dougie murmurs, digging around in the pocket of his sheepskin. 

“When?” Olive asks, shoulders beginning to shake from giggling. “How?”

“Just before you got here. I was gonna send it with your letter but you may as well have it now.” He hands her a small piece of neatly folded paper, an expectant look on his face as she opens it. He has drawn two ladybirds, nestled together on a leaf with the caption ‘Can I bug you forever?’

“Oh, gee,” Olive says, absolutely tickled. “I love the ladybirds.”

“Ladybugs, honey girl.”

“Ladybir–what did you call me?”

She feels her cheeks glow pink at this new pet name, the first that’s made her insides feel like they’re melting. 

“Oh, you like that one!”

“I absolutely do. Stick with that one. That’s lovely.”

“You’re lovely.”

“Oh, stop,” she teases, leaning up so he can plant a kiss on her temple. She presses her forehead on his chin, him squeezing her to his body in reciprocation. “You’re such a sweetie.”

They’re silent for a few moments, them both savoring the embrace. His hands feel warm as he places them in her lap, his nose burying itself in her neck as he kisses her there gently. With Everett joining them again, sans Val, she looks to her left, spotting Val and Curt a short distance away - a sign that the fog is clearing just a little. Olive sees them hug, Val holding him a little tighter this time. He smiles softly at her, bidding her farewell. She stares after him wistfully as he walks away and disappears into the ether. 

***

As Valencia returns to rejoin the group, sitting and chatting underneath their fort, Everett stands to greet her. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she stammers out, a shaky breath leaving her lips as Ev reaches up to wipe her eyes and pull her into a hug. He takes her hand as he sits on the concrete again, gently pulling her with him.

“C'mere, come sit,” he says, patting his knee. “Got a riddle to share.”

She perches on his lap as Dougie wakes a snoring Croz by whacking him on the leg. 

“Hmm!” Croz grumbles, his brow furiously furrowed. “What now, Doug?”

“Ev has a riddle to tell us.”

“You woke me up for a friggin’ riddle?”

“Thought you could do with waking up your brain,” Dougie teases, Crosby swatting at him.

“Fine. Go on, Blakely, the floor is yours.”

The captain takes a pull from his Lucky Strike before beginning, clearing his throat as he speaks:

“You’re on the way to purgatory–”

“Purgatory?”

“Yes, Maude, purgatory. You’re on the way to purgatory, and one road goes to Valhalla. The other goes to Hell, damnation, the abyss, what have you.”

“Uh huh?” Croz says, his tired face now clouded with confusion and curiosity.

“On each of the roads, is a goblin…”

“A goblin?” Olive exclaims, trying to stifle a giggle. “Ernest, where is this going?”

“If you'd let me get through more than one line, English, you'd find out. One goblin tells the truth, the other always lies. He's a tricky little fucker, a little mischievous.”

“An imp,” Olive chuckles, catching Val’s eye.

“Birichino,” she enunciates, winking at Ev. “That's what Ma calls Curt.”

“Wait…would you ask both of them if either are the good goblin?”

“Jesus, English, I was about to say that!” Croz yelps, frisbeeing his crush cap at her.

“Snooze ya lose, Harry!” She throws it right back, catching him in the abdomen. It winds him slightly, Crosby sitting up quickly and wincing. 

“Good shot,” he wheezes, holding a hand up in defeat as Olive checks on him, laughing at his faux coughs. 

With a laugh, Dougie brings the group back to the conversation. 

“I have a riddle!” 

“Please, regale us,” Val says, lighting a cigarette and handing it across to Olive. Dougie winks down at Olive, a knowing glint in his eye.

“What's the difference between a hippo, and a–”

“And a zippo? Douglass, we've heard that one a thousand times now, pal.”

Despite hearing it for what feels like the thousandth time herself, Olive begins to giggle in front of James, him joining in as he nuzzles into her again. “Yeah, but this is why I tell it. For the prettiest smile in the world.”

“I love that one,” she titters, reaching up to kiss him.

“I know you do,” he murmurs, reciprocating her kiss just as lovingly. “And I love y–”

“That a flare?” Croz cuts in, his eyes narrowing as he tries to make sense of the light in the distance that's now falling speedily to the ground. 

“Time to go, fellas,” Ev commands, his crew jumping up at his tone. He kisses Val deeply, before wrapping his arms around her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear to look forward to his return home. 

After he helps her stand, Dougie takes Olive’s face in his hands and traces her mouth with the pad of his thumb, as if to try and memorize its shape.

“What were you about to say?” she asks, their faces coming closer together and their noses meeting. 

“Tell you when I get home, honey girl.”

“No, now!” she demands, kissing him deeply. 

“You're cute when you're pissed off.”

“Doesn't mean you should do it often, cheeky.”

“I'll write you, okay?”

“Okay,” she quivers, hand on his sweet face. “Please come home to me.”

“Nowhere else I'd rather be, babydoll.” 

He moves her hand from his face, kissing her palm one, two, three times before walking away, Olive watching him until he's out of sight.

***

“You heard that, right?” Olive gasps, her hand gripping on to Val's arm. “What Dougie said, you heard it?”

“Yes, I did. I heard it, Ol. He loves you!” she squeals, handing Meatball’s leash back to her as he leads them back to the truck, sniffing through the mist. 

“I didn't think–”

“Olive Lewis!” Val shouts, that Brooklyn twang adding an extra umph to Olive’s name. “Don't make me give you a slap.”

“I'm not!” she protests, rolling her eyes. “I just…”

“We all know you love him, too, doll. You'd have to be blind to not notice it.”

“Is it really that obvious?” 

“Limpido come il giorno, my girl.”

“In English, please.”

“As plain as the nose on ya face.”

Arriving back at the Clubmobile thanks to Meatball’s dog senses, Val and Olive rejoin Helen and Tattie, the girls standing outside of the truck sharing a cigarette. Dainty coughs leave Helen as she tries to inhale, her sweet, kind eyes filling up with tears at every drag. 

“Helen, what have I told you about that? You’re going to hurt yourself, coughing like that.”

“I can’t…seem to…do it!”

“Then don’t, chicken!”

They hear a ruckus coming through the fog, Rosie and his group  breaking out of the mist and greeting the girls. 

“Hiya, boys!” Tattie calls, climbing back into the truck. “Last few donuts are yours if you want ‘em!”

“Thank ya, Miss Tattie,” Rosie politely replies, shaking his head in mock dismay as he spots Nash making a beeline for Helen. “How’s your day been?”

“Oh, easy enough. It’s trying to find a way to keep ourselves occupied while the boys are up that’ll be the trouble. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any ideas?”

“Nothing that doesn’t involve sitting with a book, I’m afraid.”

“Hm, maybe not. I’d get restless.”

“You, restless? Now I don’t believe that.”

She pauses for a second, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee. “Girls!” she calls, the three of them breaking away from their conversation with Nash, Pappy and Speas. “What do you say we name this old girl?” She pats the open window of the Clubmobile fondly before continuing. “A few of the other girls out in Europe have named theirs, why don’t we?”

“Oh, yes!” Helen replies excitedly. “But what?”

There’s a pause as they all begin to ponder, each person occasionally offering a “hm,” or a “aha!” Pappy, at one point, scratches his head as if he’s deep in thought. “Why don’t you name it after one of the states you’re all from?”

“Pappy,” Olive says, looking at him side-eyed. “Think about that again.”

“Scratch that,” he laughs. “Well then, I’m stumped!”

“You did have a semblance of a good idea though! We totally could keep it in relation to all of us girls.”

“Do-Nut Enter,” Tattie suggests, cackling at her own joke. 

“All Things Nice?” Helen shrugs. “Because we’ve got sugar on the donuts, Val is the spice–”

“Why, thank you!”

“Olive, any ideas?”

“None!” She walks over to Meatball, tying him to his post. “My brain is fried.”

“That’ll be the lack of sleep, kid. I’ve got my eye on you!” she pokes, winking at her.

“That’s it!” Val calls, seeing Olive begin to pet the dog. “Something to do with Meatball!”

“Uh-huh? What did you have in mind?”

“Meatball, Meatball…” she murmurs, before snapping her fingers. “Got it! Spaghetti ‘n’ Meatball!”

“Oh, that’s precious!” Olive squeals, looking between everyone else. “Don’t you all think?”

Tattie smiles with a soft chuckle, Helen also nodding in agreement. 

“Spaghetti ‘n’ Meatball it is.”

***

Inducting Kenny and Winks to be their painters, their brilliant nose art designs speaking for themselves, the gang all rally around with trays of coffee and a fresh batch of donuts to satiate their hungry helpers. Rosie and Pappy were on ribbon duty, finding something for the girls to cut for the grand reopening of the truck with its brand new name. Speas was in charge of gathering the remaining men for the celebration, rallying them from all corners of the base. Nash was supposed to have joined him, but remains stuck to Helen’s side like he was velcroed to her.

“Nash,” Olive says, teasingly. “I promise she won’t disappear while you help Speas out.”

“Olive, you can’t let a pretty girl like this outta your sight if you can help it!”

“Soppy sod,” she giggles, watching Helen blush. “I’ll need her once Rosie and Cousin Pappy have arrived back, though.”

“Hey, what’s all that about?” Nash asks. “I tried to ask but I couldn’t make head nor tail about what he was yappin’ about.”

“Oh! We share the same surname and the moment Pappy heard it, he declared we obviously had to be related. I’m not protesting,” she laughs, covering her mouth to stifle it slightly. “It’s not like I have a big family myself. It’s nice to add to the fold, actually.”

“What’s that, doll?” Helen asks, her face now a picture of both curiosity and concern. Olive feels herself heat up, almost beginning to boil over as the reality of what she has said begins to set it.

“Nothing, nothing!” she swallows, willing the stressed warmth to leave her cheeks.

“No, tell me what you meant!”

“Later,” she replies, dismissively, racing back around to the front of the truck. Through the haze of panic, she barely notices Lemmons sneak up behind her and snatch a donut from the tray she had been holding.

“Hey!” Sammy yells, telling on him within seconds. “You didn’t ask Miss Olive first!”

“Yeah!” Billy echoes. “Lemmons, you need to ask nicely!”

“Boys!” he laughs. “I don’t need to ask. Miss Olive and I have an agreement.”

“Oh!” They say in realization, before carrying on petting Meatball who is happily lapping up all the extra attention.

“What does that mean?” Val asks, Olive jumping at her presence.

“What does what mean?” she snaps, shaking her head. “What?”

“You and Kenny having a deal.”

“Oh my God, nothing!” she barks, feeling her eyes begin to swim with tears. “Just leave it.”

“Huh…”

As Olive turns her back, Val walks away, shaking her head. Clutching the locket, Olive sniffs as the tears dry in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Papa. They’ll know by tonight. No more secrets.”

Olive is quickly distracted by a chorus of voices calling her name, Helen and Tattie pulling a trail of toilet paper across the Clubmobile to create a makeshift ribbon to cut for the grand reopening. Just as Chick Harding approaches, he speaks up again. 

“Whose twenty two sheet daily ration did ya take?” 

“Yours, sir,” Tattie quips back, joining the rest of the group. “After three! One, two…”

“You little–”

Just as Chick is prepared to tear the paper, Meatball leaps. It’s as if it all happens in slow motion, everyone’s faces a picture of surprise as the dog jumps and grabs the paper with his teeth, pulling it apart before Tattie even manages to get to three. 

“Meatball!” They all moan disdainfully, the dog happily panting at his efforts, looking terribly pleased with himself. 

“Good thing you’re cute,” Olive scolds, kissing him on the head. “Wait til your Dad hears about this!”

***

The Silver Wings Club is the emptiest it’s ever been - usually packed to the brim, the few service members sat deep in quiet conversation as a few members of the band play softly on stage adds an eerie feel to the environment.

Olive was already feeling uneasy, both Val and Helen noticing how subdued she was as they changed uniforms, her shrugging them off and reassuring them she was fine at every turn. She’d seen herself grow ever paler in the mirror, willing herself to put one foot in front of the other as they approached Rosie and his crew in the club. As they all stand to offer their seats, Olive declines and makes a beeline for the bar where she orders a large whiskey. She gulps it down the moment it is placed in front of her, her friends looking on in surprise as she turns back to them.

“Rosie, Pappy…lads. I need to talk to the girls. Alone.”

“Sure thing, Miss Olive.”

Pappy remains still, arms crossed as he smiles jovially between Olive and their friends. “You too, Cousin Pappy.”

“Oh, what? Why?”

“Because it’s private.”

“We’re family!”

“It’s girl stuff!” she blurts, closing her eyes and wincing as she snaps at him.

“Say no more!” he guffaws, the insinuation of that alone enough to have him pick up his drink and follow Rosie.

“What’s up, kid?” Tattie says, side eyeing Olive as she lights a cigarette. “You’ve been off all day. Lay it on us.”

“Well, it’s uh–”

“Is it because Dougie and Ev, and the rest of the fellas are away? I know it’s the first time you’ve dealt with something like this, but–”

“Nope, not that. There’s something–oh, Jesus Christ…” Olive gasps, swallowing the bile that’s beginning to creep up her throat. She shudders, her whole body seeming to convulse. 

“What something?”

“I need to tell you something. About me, about my life. And I’m worried - terrified, in fact - that you all won’t believe me.”

“We’ve heard it all, Ol,” Helen laughs, sipping her cocktail.

“Oh, I doubt you’ve heard this, Helen.”

“Christ sake!” Val yells, gently kicking Olive’s shin. “Spit it out, English!”

“Right, well. Tattie, you know how I, in your words, appeared suddenly?”

“Yeah? From thin air, it seems.”

“Well, I was on the hardstand that day, because I fell out of a fort.”

“Why were you in a fort, Ol?” Helen places her drink down, her brow softly furrowed. Olive takes a deep breath in, bracing herself to finally tell the truth.

“I was in a fort because that’s how I got here. I’m not from here, from this time.”

“W-what?” Val asks, equally as confused as the rest of the group. “Huh?” Olive sees her chest rise and fall quickly, her breaths becoming uneven and jagged.

“I’m from the future,” Olive replies quietly, her eyes falling on her hands that she’s placed in her lap, wringing them together. “I’m from the year two thousand and twenty one. In my time, I climbed into a model fort because I thought I heard a dog barking for help in there and I fell out. Here.”

“Olive–”

“Who else knows?” Val demands. “Does anyone else know?”

Olive nods without looking up. “Kenny, and now Benny.”

“Before me?!” 

Olive looks up as her friend's voice borders on yelling, and sees her eyes begin to fill with tears. 

“I thought we were friends, Olive.”

“We are!” she yells in response as Val stands, stalking towards the door. “I didn’t know what else to do!”  She begins to follow her, but is quickly pulled back by Helen and Tattie who return her to her chair.

“Let her go,” Tattie says, stubbing her cigarette into the ashtray in front of her. “Give her a moment.”

“But–”

“No buts, girl. Now…you’re not lying to us?”

“I have been, yes. But this…this is me telling the truth. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to land on my ass somewhere so removed from my own life and find this.”

“What is it you’ve found, hm?”

“You guys…a family. I don’t–I don’t really have one aside from my grandmother and this…” she feels hot, fat tears begin to streak down her cheeks as she sobs through her words. “This is such a gift.”

“Look, we can’t say we’re not shocked,” Helen says, taking her hand. “But, I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. Now I think about it, it all makes sense. Can’t set your hair, can’t seem to get your nails right…”

“Gee, thanks,” Olive snorts, wiping her nose with a handkerchief.

“You know what I mean, girlie,” she comforts, hand now stroking hers. “Aside from all that, you’re one of us now. I feel like you always have been.”

Tattie nods, wordlessly confirming what Helen has said. “You don’t just have your grandmother anymore, Ol. You have me, Helen, the boys, and Val.”

“Not so sure about that last one right now,” Olive weeps, Helen shushing her softly. 

“Yes, you are. She’s upset she wasn’t told, and rightfully so. She has every right to be mad at you right now, doll.”

“Yeah,” Olive says softly, dabbing at her eyes again. “I’m gonna go see to her, but when I come back, I have something to show you.”

“What is it?” Tattie asks, eyes glowing with excitement.

“Proof.”

***

“Can I come in?” Olive asks as she taps on the door to the Red Cross hut.

“Free country,” Val responds, her tone sulky. Olive sees her slumped on her bunk with Meatball as she walks in, deciding against sitting next to her and opting to sit on the bunk opposite.

“I’m sorry,” Olive starts, her voice quiet. “I wanted to tell you, I just–”

“Just what? Decided to tell Kenny and DeMarco before I even got a look in?”

“I didn’t intend to tell them. They caught me.”

“Come again?”

“Kenny caught me one night, and I couldn’t lie to him. Truth be told, I’d had one too many Old Fashioneds and didn’t have my wits about me.”

“And DeMarco?”

“The dog gave me away this morning as I fell out of the plane.” Meatball whines at the mention of his presence, his ears pricking up. “Yes, I’m talking about you, ya damn mutt.”

She hears Val take a deep inhale, the breath leaving her slowly. “So you did wanna tell me?”

“More than anything. I just couldn’t figure out how.”

“Why now?”

“It was all getting too risky. So many things almost gave me away today and I can’t keep lying to everyone. Especially you, Val. You’re my person.”

“Thought that would be Dougie,” she replies snarkily, a smile growing on her lips nevertheless.

“Hm, maybe, romantically. But you? This shit is for keeps.”

“I feel the same.”

“Good.”

A moment of silence passes between them, Val reaching over to take Olive’s hand.

“Sorry I was a big baby,” she sniffs, shaking her head. “I just don’t like being left out.”

“Does anyone?” Olive laughs. “You believe me?”

“Y’know what, I actually do. It all makes sense now.”

“Yes, yes, I know, Helen already ate me up about my hair and my nails, I don’t need it repeated.”

“Ate you up?” Val asks, a snort leaving her as she tries to stifle a giggle.

“Chewed me up and spat me right out.”

“Oh, I love that. I need to use it.”

“Feel free! It’s one of my favorites.”

“Any more secrets you have to tell me? Might as well air it all out now while we’re here.”

“Nothing much else to tell, really. Dead dad, abandoned by my mum, raised by my grandmother.”

“Oh, me too. The–the first one.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. It’s not a nice club to be a member of.”

“Club?” she asks. “There’s a club?”

“Hmm. Dead Dads Club. Nobody chooses to be a member, it’s sort of thrust upon you. I was 13 when I got my badge.”

“I was much younger. Only a small child. It’s just been me, mom and Nonna ever since.”

“I only ever had Pearl after. My mum didn’t take my dad passing well–I mean, of course she didn’t but…anyway, that’s a story for another day.” She pulls her locket out of her collar, showing it to Valencia. “Would you like to see him?”

“I’d be honored.”

She opens the locket as Val perches on the bed next to her, her eyes squinting a little to see the small heart shaped picture inside. “You look just like him. Same eyes…same chin and jaw…wow, that’s your dad.”

“That’s my dad. My Papa,” she breathes, closing the necklace. “He was a sweetheart.”

“You think he’d approve of Dougie?”

“Without a doubt. Both with the same silly sense of humor. I’m beginning to think James has a hotline to heaven, the way he’s coming out with similar jokes.”

“And this?”

“I think he would. I think he’d just be happy to see me happy, y’know. It all scares me silly. He’s gone, and once Pearl goes, I’m all alone.”

“I’ll smack you, English,” Val scolds, wrapping an arm around her. “No, you’re not. We’re your family now.”

“Not just blowing smoke up my arse?”

“Never.”

“Come on,” Olive suggests, pulling Val up off the bed. “We’d better get back. I have something to show you.” She digs around in her bag, pulling out her phone as the door suddenly swings open.

“What on earth is that thing?” Tattie laughs, pointing at the object in Olive’s hand as Helen follows her in. “Sorry, we just wanted to check up on you. The conversation with Rosie and the boys became less and less riveting. Pah, get it. Riveting! Oh, what am I like?”

“Drunk, is what you are, Spaatz,” Helen teases, sitting her on a bunk. “You weren’t complaining when Pappy and Speas were buying you whiskey after whiskey.”

“Exactly! Now, what’s in your hand, English? A futuristic contraption?” She slurs through each word, her speech sounding like she has a mouth full of candy. 

“Here’s the proof I mentioned.” Olive presses the phone’s lock button for it to flash on, the girls all screeching in terror.

“What the fuck?!” Helen screams, a rarity for her to curse. “What is that?”

“A phone. Or a doo-hickey, as Lemmons likes to call it.” 

“But where’s the wire? The numbers? The–huh?!”

“I can’t do much with it here. But, I can play music, and take photos.”

“On a telephone?” Val shouts, grabbing it from her hands. “Let me see!”

Olive swipes the screen with her finger, swapping the camera to selfie mode. “Look, it’s us!”

“B-but…how?”

“Magic,” Olive replies. “I actually don’t know, I don’t ask questions.”

“Take our picture!” Val demands.

“Shit, alright. Calm it down.”

Olive presses the camera button, the shutter sound startling the three girls who obviously don’t expect it. “Yeah, we’ll delete that one. Try again,” Olive laughs, taking in the still of their shocked faces. 

“I need to print all these,” Olive laughs as she scrolls through about fifty images, finding her favorites amongst the shots. “You girls wanna hear some music?”

“Uh, yeah?!” Helen keenly agrees, Olive hitting play on a downloaded playlist and placing the phone into a glass. 

By the end of the night, they all have preferences: Helen has fallen in love with Elvis Presley, Tattie Spaatz has learned to headbang to AC/DC, and Val has become enamored with 80s era Madonna. 

“What do you think Ev will like?”

“We’ll soon find out. I’ll bring some vinyls from Pearl’s, save using the phone. She still has my dad’s and her records somewhere.”

They hear a soft snore emanating from one of the bunks, Tattie knocked out in her uniform. Helen covers her with a blanket with a giggle, holding a finger to her lips to get everyone to shush. 

“She’s on to something,” Olive yawns. “I’m knackered.”

“Nah-kurred!” Both Val and Helen tease, Val poking Olive softly on the nose.

“Leave it, Yanks!”

“Oooh! Getting bold now?”

“Yep. Now I know we’re stuck together forever, I can now be totally myself.”

“Good,” Val says, planting a kiss on her cheek as she retires to her own bunk. Olive and Helen follow suit, Olive wrapping herself up in Dougie’s jacket and breathing in his scent, wishing more than anything that he was right there beside her. As she snuffles her nose into the collar, she hears the camera shutter click for the final time that night, Val giggling away as she captures Olive curled up.

“Love you,” Olive whispers.

“Love you more.”

Olive lets herself snuggle up and fall fast asleep in minutes. A deep sleep, the sort of sleep she’s sought after for years, the warmth of it sending her into gentle dreams. Those of a future, a comfortable life with a family by her side. A sense of peace and hope washes over her, praying that everything is finally coming up roses.

taglist: @blakelysco-pilot @sagesolsticewrites @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @archival-hogwash @lestweforget5 @ptvstvrrr @claireelizabeth85 @butterfly9012

[austinbutlerslovers]

Master List 100% Smut

💝Romantic ❤️‍🔥Passionate ⚠️Hardcore 🚨Deranged 🏆 TOP

•••••••••••••••• New Releases ••••••••••••••••

🔗 The Red Dress 11.11 🔗 His Princess 11.13 🔗 Another Load 11.15

⚠️ Obsession 🎃 10.25 One Shot

❤️‍🔥 Power & Control One Shot

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 1 Pleasure & Pain 🏆✨

🚨Feyd Fantasy 2 Baroness & Breeder 🏆

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 3 Kill or Be Killed 🏆

🚨Feyd Fantasy 4 Madness & Mayhem 🏆✨

⚠️ Feyd Fantasy Part 5 Endless Empire

⚠️ Feyd Fantasy Part 6 Brazen Baron

🚨 Feyd Fantasy Part 7 Honor & Heir COMPLETE

🚨The Chase 🎃 10.19 ⚠️ The Good Girl (one shot) 🏆 9.23

❤️‍🔥Until the Bed Breaks (one shot) 9.16

❤️‍🔥He Knows Things (one shot) 9.6

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Part 1: 🏆 ✨ Handsome Stranger 7.3

💝Benny Cross Part 2: The Vandals 7.16

❤️‍🩹Benny Cross Part 3: Playing House 7.22

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Part 4: ‘Til Death 8.29

❤️‍🩹Benny Cross Chapter 5 🏆 Broken Promises 9.4

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Chapter 6: For Keeps COMPLETED 9.12

❤️‍🔥Rough Ride (one shot ) 8.4

❤️‍🔥Strip for Me (one shot)🏆✨ 6.12

❤️‍🔥Chokehold (one shot) 6.8

❤️‍🔥Hard at Work (one shot) 🏆

❤️‍🔥After Hours 9.24

❤️‍🔥Kiss it Better 10.13

❤️‍🔥Jealous 10.24

❤️‍🔥Playing Dirty NEW 11.4

❤️‍🔥Zip Ties NEW 11.7

❤️‍🔥Another Load NEW 11.15

🚨 The Hunt Austin Vampire 2 NEW 11.19 ❤️‍🔥The Red Dress NEW 11.11 ⚠️ Blood Bound (Austin Vampire ) 10.30 🚨 Teachers Pet 🏆✨5.4.24

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 🏆✨

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 2 🏆

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 3 🏆 5.12.24

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 4 COMPLETED 6.30

❤️‍🔥Eternal Ink 5.29.24

⚠️ The Belt 6.1.24

💝 Sweet as Pie 🎃 10.31 💝Major Gale Fantasy 1:He Racks You Down&Knocks You Up✨

💝Major Gale Fantasy 2 : Missing You Every Second

⚠️You Will Call Me Sir

🚨Lake House Lessons

⚠️ Bucked & Fxcked 🏆✨

⚠️Bucked & Fxcked Part 2 One Last Buck 🏆

💝Well I’ll Be Damned 6.1

❤️‍🔥The Massage ❤️‍🔥 NEW 11.18

💝His Princess NEW 11.13

❤️‍🔥Heavy 10.7

💝Austins Praises 10.6

💝One Night in Budapest 9.16

❤️‍🔥Fight Training 🏆 (Sub Austin)

💝Avec Moi 🏆 (anniversary sex)

💝Cat Daddy (fluff +smut)

❤️‍🔥Ride Me (kink)

❤️‍🔥Lazy Day 69 🏆

💝False God (meet cute)

💝Austins Bath

❤️‍🔥So Slutty (nipple play)

❤️‍🔥Wet Dream

❤️‍🔥Hollywood Authentic Feeling

🚨Austins Angst

❤️‍🔥Work Me Like Wet Clay (very first fic ever ✨)

••••••••••••✍🏼 Upcoming Fic List 📖 ••••••••••••

Special thanks to @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @lindszeppelin for helping me create a masterlist 💗

[stylespresleyhearted]

THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, “and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

You're like me, but better

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: Bucky meets a woman in a bar...

Warning: 18+/ pure smut/ switch!Bucky/ switch!reader/ doggy style/ oral (f and m)/ fingering/ handjob/ kinda edging/ dirty talk/ swearing/ use of Y/n/ mention of a physical fight/ alcohol/ praise/

Word count: 3k

A/n: I need holy water...

When he first spotted her, dancing and laughing, John Egan thought she was beautiful. She was dancing like no one was watching, but he was surely watching her. The way she moved was hypnotising, he couldn’t stop admiring her, she was wearing a blue navy dress that stopped right before her knees. It was beautiful, her hair was originally organised, but now, they were loose and kind of messy, but they were still looking good.

When she first spotted him, he was already looking at her. Y/n smiled to him as he took a sip of his drink. She thought he was good looking and looked like trouble and fun; the things she looked for in a man. When the music ended, she was thirsty, so she headed for the bar, and for the man. ‘’A whiskey, please’’ she asked the bartender. ‘’Make that 2’’ the man said, resting his elbow on the bar, looking at her. ‘’You like Whiskey?’’ he asked her. ‘’I love it, does that surprise you?’’ she leaned in closer to his ear, so he could understand what she was saying. He smirked as he turned his head to speak closer to her ear. ‘’I’m impressed, not surprised’’ he said with a low voice. She smiled to him as she took her glass. ‘’You can put it on my tab’’ she announced, not daring to look away from him. They went to sit at a table, well, Y/n went to sit down, Bucky followed her. She smirked when she saw that he followed her.

Empty glasses were all over the table, they had a lot of whiskey shots and Y/n’s tab kept going up. They’ve been talking for what felt like hours. The conversation was filled with flirting on both sides and teasing. ‘’What do you say if we get out of here?’’ he suggested, with a flirty tone. ‘’Yes, but hold on’’ she said, getting up. She took a glass full of water and went closer to the drunk men side. Bucky got up, worried about what she was going to do. ‘’What are you doing?’’ he asked her. ‘’Get ready to run’’ she warned as she threw the liquid on one of the men. Since he was drunk and disoriented, he blamed his friend. His friend got up, knocked over someone’s drink and chaos followed. She just started a huge fight. ‘’Go, let’s go’’ she laughed as she took his hand, and they got out of the bar. Bucky was shocked, that woman was truly amazing.

They ran into the alley, laughing and loudly breathing. ‘’You didn’t pay’’ Bucky laughed. ‘’I don’t have the money, plus I’ll pay him next time, I always do’’ she catches her breath. He smirked; he was in awe of her. She was high on adrenaline, even if she already did that to get out of a bar, it was still thrilling to do. They were both panting, looking at each other, they got closer to the other. The alcohol in their system helped their anxiety. ‘’You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, you’re like me, but better!’’ he chuckled. She took his face in her hands as she bit her lips. ‘’Shut up’’ she pulled his face closer to hers and kissed him. John took a second to realise what was happening, but when he did, he put one hand on her hips and the other behind her neck as he deepened the kiss. When they pulled away, to breath, the look in their eyes had change, they were hungry, they needed more. ‘’Where do you live?’’ he panted. ‘’We have to take a taxi, and don’t worry, I can pay’’ she winked. They walked up to the sidewalk and called a taxi.

He was touching her thigh and kept going up. Y/n tried to not breath so loudly, to respect the driver. She wanted to have sex with him right here, in the taxi, but they couldn’t, and the wait was more fun. But she couldn’t wait to get to her appartement and have sex with him. When the driver finally stopped, Y/n handed him the money from the window. ‘’Keep the change, have a good night’’ she smiled as Bucky was behind her. She could feel his erection on her ass, when the driver left, Y/n turned to face him and quickly kissed him. Her apartment was the upper one, so they had to go up some stairs. Bucky gladly walked behind her, checking her ass out as she climbed the stairs.

The second the door was closed; Bucky’s mouth was on hers immediately, trying to show that he was the one in charge, but Y/n quickly showed him who was in charge tonight. ‘’Now, Major, relax, you’re the one fighting the bad guys, you need a reward for doing so’’ she breathed against his lips. She looked up at him, he was grinning like the devil. ‘’What do you have in mind?’’ he growled, God he was desperate for her, he needed her so bad, his painful boner was the proof of how bad he wanted her. ‘’You trust me?’’ she asked between kisses. He nodded as he was being led to her bedroom, he kept following her closely. She felt his hard dick on her ass, she was smiling proudly. She slightly pushed him on the bed, so he could sit at the end of it. He took his shirt off, since he was in his uniform, he knew how to unbutton his shirt quickly. ‘’I have something to propose to you’’ she started as she went between his legs, she was still up, so he had to lift his head to look at her. She played with his curls as she explained her idea. ‘’If you can resist the urge to touch me, until I say stop, you can do whatever you want with me after’’ she purred. His mouth slightly opened, but no sound came out. ‘’And if I touch you?’’ he asked, but it almost sounded like a moan. ‘’You lose’’ she breathed out as she backed away from between his legs.

She started to take off her dress, slowly, teasingly and with a grin on her face. He’d been touching her all night, now, he couldn’t it was torture, but the best kind. He devoured her with his eyes, he needed her, but first he had to play her little game. She took her bra off but kept her panties on. ‘’Should I take your pants off, or you want to do it?’’ she asked him, with a flirty tone. He quickly untied his belt as she kneeled before him, his pants were thrown away. She began to palm his cock, but he still had his boxer on, so it was pure torture. He wanted to touch her so bad, but he also wanted to fuck that brat dominant attitude out of her later. She slowly takes them off, freeing his length. Y/n licks her lips before looking up at John, who was breathing fast, he was controlling himself in order to keep his hands to himself. Those poor bedsheets, getting pulled so hard, he thought he was going to rip them. She kept caressing his thigh, moving her hands higher every time, she was teasing him, and she was enjoying it way too much. She eventually reached his cock; she began kissing the top of it. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt her delicate hands stroke his cock, he exhaled in pleasure.

Y/n was enjoying this moment, having this man practically begging for her. Even though he was too proud to beg, she could tell by the sounds he made that he wanted her to do something more. ‘’You’re doing so good, Major’’ she praised him. His body reacted to the praise in a way that was almost embarrassing, he secretly loved being praised. She pressed wet kisses on the tip, then, without warning, Y/n took John’s dick in her mouth. ‘’Ah, shit’’ he groaned, lifting his hand from the bed, but quickly grabbed the sheet back to prevent his hand to touch her. She began to suck him with a rapid pace, she was teasing him by often changing the rhythm. One of her hands was on the base of his length, stroking him slowly while her mouth was sucking him fast. He was in heaven, he was going to die; but what a great way to go, he thought. Bucky was dizzy from the feeling of her mouth and hand working at the same time. His stomach was contracting as he felt the sweet feeling of his climax coming. ‘’D-darling, I’m really, ah, fucking, shit, close’’ he moaned. She kept going, but her hand started to go faster. ‘’Come on, be a good boy and cum for me’’ she encouraged him. That was all it took to send him over the edge and make him see stars. Y/n felt his release in her mouth, but his cock kept twitching. His knuckles were white, practically blue.

She didn’t stop sucking him, it was a very slow pace, but she wanted to drive him mad. His thoughts were gathered, but he was still dizzy from the orgasm he just had. ‘’W-what are you – oh I can’t, it’s too much’’ he whimpered. ‘’Please, darling’’ he breathed out. She decided that it was time for her game to stop, she mentally prepared herself to what was going to happen as she took his cock out of her mouth. She whipped the sperm on her lips and suck on them. She had that proud grin on her face that made him crazy. ‘’You were such a good boy, respecting the rules. So you win, I’m yours to do whatever you-‘’ she yelped as she was thrown on the bed. He was mad, she’d been teasing him for what felt like hours, she was going to get the same fucking treatment.

Bucky crawled on top of her, he kissed her hungrily, he wasn’t playing her stupid game anymore. His hand trailed down to her panties, he needed them off, he pulled them off her and threw them away. His hands still next to her entrance, he felt how bad she enjoyed teasing him. ‘’Look how soaked you are, all that from a little game. Tell me, darling, did you enjoy this? Making me moan and beg for you?’’ he growled. She moaned in response, but he wasn’t satisfied, he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. ‘’I didn’t hear you. Did you enjoy having me at your mercy? Playing your little game?’’ he said, with a husky voice. ‘’Yes- yes sir’’ she stuttered, he smirked at her answer before entering one finger inside of her.

She arched her back as he began pumping in and out of her, their lips were so close together, but he wasn’t letting them touch. ‘’Look who’s moaning now, bet you weren’t expecting that, uh?’’ he teased, against her lips. She shook her head as he entered another finger inside of her. ‘’Please, let- ah let me kiss you’’ she begged. He chuckled as he moved his fingers faster. ‘’C’mon, darling, you can beg more than that’’ he teased. She rolled her eyes in pleasure as she swallowed her pride and decided to surrender to him. ‘’Please sir, please kiss me. I need you-shit please sir’’ she begged. He was smiling like the devil, God she was amazing. ‘’That wasn’t so hard.’’ He croaked before kissing her passionately, their tongues were dancing together. He kept moving his fingers inside of her until he felt her walls clench around his fingers. ‘’You’re close?’’ he asked. She nodded, biting her lips. The knot in her stomach was ready to burst, but at the last minute, he took his fingers out, denying her from the sweet pleasure she deeply craved. ‘’No’’ she whined as she wiggled her hips to get any form of friction that could trigger her orgasm. But Bucky was not having it, he put one hand on her hips, to keep her still. ‘’Nah ah, only good girls get to cum. You’ve been a brat with an attitude, so you’re going to fucking beg me, and until I say so, you don’t get to cum, do you understand?’’ he ordered. She whined before nodding. ‘’Yes sir’’ she said, biting her lips. She wanted to argue with him, say fuck it and ride him, but she was enjoying this.

She felt tear form in her eyes from the frustration she was feeling as he put two fingers inside of her, but this time, he kissed her body until he reached her clitoris. He was going to eat her out and finger her at the same time, she was a moaning mess, her brain couldn’t even think properly. Bucky knew her brain was fried, and she temporarily forgot that she had to beg for an orgasm. Her thighs were shaking for that much stimulation, her hands were in his hair, pulling his curls as she came closer to an orgasm again. Y/n completely forgot about his rule, so when he stopped everything, he was doing, she whined again. ‘’Please-ah let me cum. I’m begging you, please sir. I-ah need to cum, please’’ she begged like her life was depending on it. Bucky chuckled as he pressed one last kiss to her clitoris. ‘’On all fours, darling, the only way you’re getting off is on my cock’’ he ordered.

She didn’t know if her arms were strong enough to support her, but still, she got on all fours, waiting for Bucky to do something. ‘’Look at you, on all fours, begging for my cock. We couldn’t guess with that bratty attitude of yours. I guess I have to fuck it out of you, what do you think, darling?’’ he teased. Y/n moaned at what he just said, she was a mess, but God how was she enjoying it. ‘’I would like that very much, sir. Please fuck me’’ she moaned. He chuckled again as he positioned himself at her entrance. The wait was killing her, she ached for him, needing him to fuck her and give her the release she craved. He took her hips as he buried himself inside her. She arched her back as she felt him go deeper than her usual one-night stand. ‘’Shit-oh you’re so f-fucking big’’ she gasped as she tugs on her bedsheets. He started to trust inside of her but slowly, to make sure she felt him, as he trusted back in, he brought her hips towards him. His length went deeper inside of her, making the woman roll her eyes in pleasure. ‘’Please, please, oh shit’’ she mumbled, she didn’t even know why she was saying please, her brain was foggy and couldn’t form a normal thought.

He leaned in, to kiss her spine, he kept pounding into her at a fast pace, he was chasing his own release. After marking her back, one on his hands went under her to play with her breast, pinching her nipple. As he did so, Bucky felt her walls clench in pleasure, he smirked as he understood. ‘’You like that, uh.’’ He breathed out, pinching her nipple again. She arched her back even more as she felt the familiar knot in her stomach form. ‘’I’m close, please, sir. I’m begging you, please let me cum, please’’ she whimpered. ‘’You’re going to cum at the same time as me, understood?’’ he ordered. ‘’Y-yes sir’’ she moaned. She was close, and tired of waiting, so she decided to praise him. ‘’Yes, holy shit, you’re so deep inside me. Making me feel so good’’ she praised, her voice was raspy from all the moaning. Bucky felt butterflies in his stomach at the praise, he knew what she was doing, but hey, could he blame her? ‘’Turn around, I want to see you when I make you cum’’ he ordered as he took his cock out, only to slam inside of her when she was on her back.

He kept kissing her sloppy, her legs were around his waist. She kept whispering soft praise in his ear as he quickened the pace. ‘’C’mon, fill me up. Cum inside of me, I want to feel you’’ she encouraged him. With a powerful trust, he emptied himself inside of her as Y/n’s walls kept clenching his cock. They were moaning, gasping and trying to catch their breaths. Her breath was labored as she came down from euphoria. He was laying on top of her, his dick still buried inside of her. They were both silent for a couple of minutes before he pulled out and got up. Y/n watched as Bucky put his boxer back on and looked for her bathroom, while he was gone, she could properly catch her breath. It was the best sex she ever had. He came back with a warm towel to clean her up.

Bucky was holding her tightly; they were both cuddling. ‘’That was… mind-blowing, darling’’ he chuckled, looking at her. ‘’Best sex I’ve ever had’’ she joined the chuckling as they intertwined their fingers. ‘’Are you staying tonight?’’ she asked him. ‘’I can, but I have to get back on the base tomorrow afternoon, my pass expires tomorrow’’ he explained. She smiled as she snuggled closer to him. ‘’Goodnight, Y/n’’ he kissed the top of her head. ‘’Goodnight John’’ she kissed him on the lips before putting her head on his bicep.

As Bucky fell asleep that night, he promised himself that he was going to see her again, that woman was the most wonderful he ever met, she was funny, sexy, beautiful, smart and she was amazing in bed. That was all he needed, he was going to see Y/n again…

[majorbuckegan]

prettier than a peach (john "bucky" egan x reader)

In which you're his favorite nurse, and John Egan tries his hardest to win your heart.

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Bucky Egan is a warning all on his own. Fluffy, fluffy fluff.

Disclosure: Please do not copy my work on any other sites. I will be posting this here & on ao3 shortly. This fic is based on the characters brought to life in the Apple TV series Masters of the Air, not the real people the characters were based on.

Note: Peach!Reader is going to make many appearances, I'm going to make this a series. Without further adieu, enjoy.

It all started on a Saturday morning. It was early—really early. You hadn't really expected to have anyone walking around near the infirmary, but at half past 0300, you heard the sounds of heavy footfalls, with slurred speech and another low voice arguing.

 You get up to look out the window, and not a second goes by before the door swings open. You recognize the two men instantly: Major Gale "Buck" Cleven is half dragging Major John "Bucky" Egan into the infirmary. 

"Morning, ma'am." Major Cleven's blue eyes zero in on you immediately, and he offers you a kind (and apologetic) smile. "My buddy here had a bit too much to drink and got himself into a scuffle with some guys at the bar." 

Your gaze flickers to Major Egan, studying him with a calculating gaze. He's going to have a black eye, you notice, and he's holding onto the left side of his ribs. It's not the first time you've heard of the Major getting into a fight, but it's the first time it's happened on your shift. 

"Alright, Major." You're addressing Egan now, coming to his side to support his left side. "Let's get you settled in bed so I can take a look at those ribs." 

You are wholly unprepared for the absolute human hurricane that is Major John Egan.

"Tryin' to get me in bed already, doll?" His words are slurred from too much alcohol, but his voice is deep and husky, and you hate the way it makes you shiver. "I don't even know your name."

Major Cleven sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes. "John Clarence Egan." That accent drawls his friend's name, and his tone is very much annoyed. "You're in the presence of a lady—a nurse—for crying out loud. Behave."

"Oh, c'mon, she walked right into that one." He insists, "She thought it was funny. You thought it was funny, right, doll?"

Stormy blue eyes are suddenly fixed on your face. It's almost like time stops for you; of course you've seen him around before, but the moment you really look into his eyes, it's like you can see your whole life ahead of you. He's quiet now, just watching you, and he finds himself absolutely anamored with the delicate blush working its way onto your face.

"It was a little funny." You admit it, but you don't meet his eyes again. You're too afraid of what you'll see on his face, because while you're falling hard and fast at first sight, he's only flirting with a woman. That's all it is to him, you're sure of it.

His chest is warm when you open his jacket and roll up his shirt. You have to ignore how beautifully masculine he is on order to focus on your job. Your eyes flicker to his abdomen, and sure enough, there are wicked bruises starting to show on the skin that covers his ribs. You're pretty sure they're not broken, but you have to be sure.

"This may hurt." You warn him, your fingers prodding gently at his side, and he hisses quietly under his breath. You don't feel anything out of place, but he'll definitely need a few hours of rest and something to ease the pain.

"Your hands are freezing." He grumbles, and before you can say anything, he's got both of them in his much bigger, warmer hands. "There, that's better."

"You're unbelievable, John Egan." Major Cleven speaks up from behind you, his tone more exasperated than anything else.

You carefully extract your hands from Major Egan's, and you try to ignore the way he pouts when you're no longer touching him. "I'll keep him overnight for observation, Major Cleven. Make sure he rests and heals up a bit."

Major Cleven looks strangely relieved, but still, he frowns. "Are you sure? I can handle Bucky; I don't want him causing you any trouble."

His gentle demeanor makes you smile. "I appreciate that, Major, but I've dealt with far rowdier men than Major Egan here. You go on and get some rest; I'll handle this."

Major Egan looks irritated that you and his best friend were talking about him like he wasn't even there. "Just call me Bucky. Or I'll take John." He tells you, his tone demanding, his lips pulled into yet another pout.

"You behave yourself." Major Cleven points a finger at him, his face stern. When he turns back to you, he offers another warm smile. "You might as well call me Buck, too, since you're saving me from trying to sleep in the same room as that one while he's drunk."

You offer your name in return, and you offer a comforting smile as you shoo Buck off to bed.

It's quiet for a moment after the other Major takes his leave. You wonder if the alcohol has made Major Egan fall asleep. You're surprised to see his eyes open and staring directly at you when you turn around.

"Can't remember if I've ever seen you around before." He says, his words still slightly slurred as he speaks. You can't recall ever having heard a voice like his before. Gravely, warm and steady, even with alcohol in his system. "I'd remember that face; you're so pretty."

"And you're drunk." You answer, turning away before he can notice that you're blushing. You've dealt with flirty airmen before, but this is the first time it's really gotten to you. "Get some rest, Major."

He's quiet for a moment, and you're grateful for a reprieve from the flirting as you mark the log book with a pencil. The only noise for a few moments is the lead scratching against the paper as you write.

"I'm gonna call you Peach."

When you turn back, his lips tug into the most heart-stopping smirk you've ever seen. "You could just call me Nurse." You point out, and for some reason, that only seems to egg him on.

"Well, I like Peach. You're prettier than a peach. Sweet as one too; look at that blush." You're sure you've forgotten how to breathe.

"You're a menace." You answer after you've finally gotten a hold of your emotions. "And it's early; you need rest. Sleep."

"How about a goodnight kiss first?" You almost toss the log book at him. Almost. "Just one on the forehead, and then I'll sleep. Scout's honor, Peach."

You sigh, your eyes darting over his face for a moment. Sure, he's a flirt, but you've never heard of him ever harming a woman. So you walk over to his bedside and lean down.

His forehead is warm, an errant curl tickling your cheek as your lips press against his skin. You feel him shudder under the touch of your lips against him, but then his breathing evens back out as you lean away.

"Alright, Major, you got your kiss. Now sleep." He doesn't miss the way your eyes flicker to his lips and away again, but he does as he's told and rolls over onto his side.

After he falls asleep, the morning is quiet. Your shift at the infirmary ends at 0600 and the nurse who comes to relieve you doesn't seem surprised to see Bucky there. She rolls her eyes and huffs a laugh as you explain how he came to be in a bed in the infirmary.

He's shifting awake as you're leaving, and his blue eyes have just enough time to focus on your retreating form before you're gone. He was a little saddened; he'd been hoping for one more kiss.

Outside, the air is still cool, and the sun is just beginning to peek beyond the horizon. The inky blackness of the sky is lightening to a shade of blue that looks like Major Egan's eyes, and God, you have to stop thinking about him. You really didn't need to get attached.

You pass Buck on the way back to your quarters, and he waves at you with one of his dazzling smiles as he passes. He's wearing his uniform, and you know that means he'll be out in the sky soon enough. You return his smile and wave happily.

Exhaustion sweeps through you as you enter your quarters, and you make quick work of taking your hair pins out and wiping your makeup off. By the time your head hits the pillow, sleep pulls you under. The only things on your mind as you fall asleep are dark curls and blue eyes.

***

Hours later, you blink awake. There's still sunlight flittering in through the curtains over your window, and you sit up to stretch your arms and shoulders. It had to be close to dinnertime, and your stomach rumbles as you slip out of bed and dress in your uniform. Sometimes you missed your dresses back home, but you always felt a sense of pride in your olive drab skirt and jacket. You make sure to swipe on your Victory Red lipstick before you leave.

Placing your cover under your arm, you slip out of your barracks just to come face-to-face with a man. Not just any man, either.

"Peach!" He's still loud, his face wide and warm and friendly. His breath smells like the peppermint gum he's chewing, and his eyes are clear. "Don't think I didn't see you slip out of the room before I could ask for my morning kiss."

He's smiling so brightly that it's like looking at the sun. He's all white teeth and dark curls and blue eyes, his cover tucked under his arm. He's got a single flower in his free hand. You've never seen someone look so devastatingly beautiful.

"Major." You greet him, and it's a good thing you didn't put on blush when refreshing your makeup because your face is hot now. Just from looking at him. "What brings you to the women's barracks?"

"I told you, Peach. Call me Bucky. Or John." His grin never falters. You want to kiss the corner of his mouth, nip at the jawline. He's got so much energy and vitality, and your heart beats so loudly that it's a wonder he can't hear. "Well, I came to offer you this gorgeous flower I found on my way over here and ask if you'd like to dance with me tonight."

You'd forgotten all about the party tonight. A crew completing their 25th mission—you hadn't really planned on attending, but you find yourself very tempted to go. "I'm not really the party type." You admit that, and that dims the light in his eyes a little. You regret the words immediately.

"Just one dance." He steps in closer, taking up more space. He's so tall and broad-shouldered; the man takes up so much room that it makes you feel small in the best way. "For your favorite patient? After all, you did give me a good-night kiss. That's gotta count for something."

Your mind rewinds to that moment, when he was fever-warm and shivering under your lips, when you'd wanted so badly to let him kiss you all over. If you weren't blushing before, you sure are now. "Alright, Bucky," You have to ignore the way he lights up when you use his nickname. "One dance."

[obrowne21]

ʙᴀʙʏ ɪᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ

“𝔽𝕝𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕪, 𝕄𝕒𝕛𝕠𝕣 𝔹𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕪, 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘.”

“𝕆𝕙, 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥?”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

In which everyone knows that Delilah Cleven, also known as Baby or the best damn mechanic you’ve ever seen, is off limits. Ironically, she’s caught the eye of her brothers best friend and partner in crime. As the harshness of war continues to spread among the RAF Station in Norfolk, Baby and Bucky find love and light in each other. The only obstacle that separates them is the protectiveness of her older brother, Gale Cleven, who would never approve.

CHAPTER 1

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

[joeyalohadream]

drabble request: bucky coming back from a night at the officers club and finding buck curled up in bed wearing his sheepskin to help him fall asleep 🥹

Sorry it took so long to get to this! Thanks for the idea anon, I love it! Hope you enjoy reading it too!

Word Count: 1,685 (some softness below the cut)

The air had a slight chill to it, the breeze reminding Bucky that Autumn was fading, and Winter was creeping up on them. He runs warm and the whiskey he’s consumed this evening does well to protect him from the worst of it, so he finds himself mostly content as he stands outside the Officer’s Club to finish the cigarette he’d come out to smoke.

The night was going well. The mission the boys had returned from earlier in the day had been a success in all the ways that mattered. They’d hit their targets and somehow, miraculously, not one fort had gone down. Some of the crews were busted up, but no one had required a trip to the infirmary, so it was a win in his book.

Bucky new better than to have hope that their next mission would end with the same statistics, but the success had motivated the boys and they’d all wanted to ride the good feeling into the night. He hadn’t been up in the air for this one, left off the rotation this time around, and the anxiety and fear that had gripped him all day was finally fully gone.

He had felt the need to join the boys in the revelry. He wasn’t with them up in the air today, but he could sure as hell be with them now and help show them a good time. As usual, Gale had agreed to accompany him, always willing to show his face and set a good example for the men, despite his preference for less crowded venues and less lively crowds.

Bucky turned his gaze to the door that swung outwards to his left, expecting Curt or another fellow smoker, but was happy when he saw Gale stepping out into the night and making his way towards him. He was always the happiest to see Gale.

“Finally decide to find a vice?” Bucky joked, holding his cigarette out towards Gale and laughing when Gale swatted his hand away as he finally stopped within arm’s reach of him.

“Already found one of those,” Gale said back, looking pointedly at Bucky, eyes playful.

Bucky laughed again, feeling even warmer now.

“And you’ll find that this particular vice you’ve got is one that’s impossible to shake,” Bucky grins at him. “You’re probably gonna be stuck with it for life.”

Gale nods, face a mockery of serious contemplation before he sighs and gives Bucky a small smile. “I think I can live with that.”

Bucky smiles back and takes another drag of his cigarette. He watches as Gale crosses his arms and rocks slightly on his heels. He runs cold where Bucky runs warm and he seems to have a harder time shaking the cold from the high altitude after missions than everyone else.

“So, what brings you out in the cold,” Bucky asks, “Miss me already?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gale chuckles. “I made my rounds, saw all the men. Think I’m calling it a night.”

Bucky’s about to whine, throw out his usual protest for when Gale turns in early, but then he really looks at Gale. He sees the shadows under his eyes, the small cut along his jaw he’d received during the mission but couldn’t recall when or how, sees the slight shake to his shoulders. He tosses his cigarette away and turns to face him fully.

“You’re alright though?” He wants to reach out and cup his jaw, run his finger over the reddened skin. “You’re not hurting, are you?”

Gale’s eyes are full of affection when he meets his and a smile is tugging at his lips.

“Sore, the usual. You know that well as I do,” Gale tells him, and Bucky does know, it’s true. “I ain’t hurtin’ and I’m fine. Just tired.” His smile turns a little sheepish. “And cold.”

“Well, what a surprise,” Bucky teases. “Gotta get you a thinker coat, maybe one like mine. Wearing that puppy is like being wrapped in a warm hug.”

“You know I hate that jacket,” Gale huffs out. “And I’d rather just have the real thing than something like it.”

It takes a moment for Bucky to realize what Gale was saying, but when he does his heart gives an embarrassing flutter. He looks around and decides to take the risk, steps forward and wraps his arms around Gale’s shoulders. Gale doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his waist, face burrowing into his neck.

“Wish we could do this all night,” Gale breathes into his collarbone and Bucky rubs a hand up and down his back. He knows that Gale means he wishes they could sleep like this, in each other’s arms and he wishes for it too. But they live in a barracks with 10 other men and it’s a risk they won’t dare to take. One day, Bucky thinks.

“Me too,” Bucky breathes into his hair. He feels the arms around him tighten for a moment before Gale pulls away and Bucky lets him go, even though he wants to do the opposite.

He sees Gale shiver and shove his hands into his pockets, and he just wants to hold him again. Knows he shouldn’t, knows he can’t.

“I’ll walk you back,” Bucky offers, not wanting to ever let Gale out of his sight. The memory from this morning of watching him disappear into the clouds, not knowing if he’d ever pop back out of them threatens to overwhelm him so he pushes it aside. Slams it back into the box in his mind.

“No way,” Gale laughs. “Curt was already hollering in there about you playing cards next round. I think he’s got money on you, Bucky.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky tells him and means it.

Gale smiles at him, fondness in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But the guys aren’t done having fun with the life of the party and I know you’ll have a good time sticking the evening out with them.”

Bucky wants to protest, wants to remind Gale that there isn’t anywhere he’d rather be than with him, anyone he’d rather be with than him. But he knows Gale is right. He’d told his table of card sharks that he was just stepping out for a smoke and they were all expecting him back. They were having fun, in large part due to his boisterous behavior and he’d set out to give them a night like this. He’d stick to his plan, no matter how much he’d rather walk Gale back and watch him fall asleep.

“Alright,” Bucky relents. “But know that while my body is here at the club, my heart is with you in your bunk.” He tells him dramatically with a hand over his heart.

Gale shoves him away with a laugh and an exasperated, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Makes you smile though,” Bucky points out with a grin.

“I’ll see in the morning,” Gale ignores his words, even though he’s still smiling. “Goodnight John.”

“Night Buck.”

Bucky lights another cigarette just so he can stay outside and watch him walk away until he disappears in the darkness.

----

Bucky’s hands feel clumsy as he tries to unknot his tie, stumbling through the door to the barracks. He hears Crank and Curt laughing at him, but their footsteps are no steadier than his. He makes an exaggerated shushing noise and gestures in the direction of his and Gale’s cots at the far end of the room. The other men roll their eyes but quiet down as they all make their way to their own racks.

It was a good night. All the boys left the Officer’s Club in even better spirits than when they’d entered, he’d won Curt a good chunk of change winning at cards, and he was pleasantly drunk on good whiskey.

He throws his tie on his cot and sits on the edge to start the fumbling process of getting his shoes untied, wishing Gale was awake to help him. The thought brings his focus to the cot directly across from his and he feels light and airy all of a sudden.

Gale is sleeping in his usual position, turned on his side, slightly bent, one hand under his pillow, the other pillowed under his cheek. He looks so soft and sweet, and Bucky wants to join him, spoon him, hold him and it hurts that he can’t.

He toes off his shoes and stands to unbutton his shirt and remove his belt, eyes still on Gale’s sleeping form. He pauses his movements as he notices a familiar cream-colored bit of fluff tucked under Gale’s chin. When he looks to the hooks along the wall they use to hang their things and prevent wrinkles, he notices his sheepskin is missing from its usual spot.

On silent socked feet he moves the two steps it takes to reach the edge of Gale’s cot and reaches out to grab the Army green wool blanket draped over him. A small, careful lift reveals a sight that warms Bucky’s heart more than all the sunshine and whiskey in the world ever could.

Gale has Bucky’s sheepskin, the jacket he supposedly hates, wrapped around his torso and shoulders, the fur of the collar tucked tight under his chin. He takes a moment to just look, thankful its dark as he knows the expression on his face is one of lovesick adoration.

He imagines Gale coming back from the club tonight, shivering and tired and alone. Imagines him grabbing the sheepskin and tucking himself into it before covering the evidence with the rough wool. Imagines he was probably embarrassed about it, maybe his cheeks even flushed when he decided to do it. He wishes he’d been here to see it.

Bucky hopes his words rang true and that his jacket feels like a warm hug to Gale.

Gently, he replaces the wool blanket, hiding Gale’s stolen object of comfort from any potential prying eyes. He runs his hand gently through Gale’s hair, wishes he could replace the jacket with himself and feels sad that he can’t.  

[alienoresimagines]

can you write [knuckles] for a kiss on the hand? thank you!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you're still around 🥺❤️But here it is, 1.8k long despite my best efforts at keeping it under 1k 😅 I hope you'll like it 💕 Also on AO3 My other Clegan fics here

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) | Buck x Bucky

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful. One foot in the grave and every day wishing a bit more it was both. In the darkest corner of his mind, he thinks that perhaps his death would save Gale from tiring himself to the bone trying to keep John tethered to Earth. Maybe, at least then, he could be useful to Buck. 

The thought is squashed away almost immediately, guilt crawling in his throat. Those few days after Gale had gone down over Bremen were the worst in John's life. The certainty that he was now a piece of something that would never be whole again, with no home to fight for anymore, had been the most excruciating pain John's ever known. Over the course of just a few months, he’s lost more friends than he can count, each loss cutting deeper. But losing Gale hadn’t just felt like losing a limb. From the moment Red’s distorted voice reached his ears through the phone - “He went down swinging, John�� - he was an empty shell walking, his chest hollow with no heart, some vital part of him missing. No matter how miserable this camp makes him, wishing such agony on his best friend, his better half is unbearable. If only to spare Gale any additional pain, he’ll plant both feet in the mud until they stop trying to get him closer to that barbed-wire fence. 

Yet, despite desperately wishing Gale out of harm’s way, his being chained to the dirt with him is John’s saving grace. In the darkness of the Stalag, Gale shines brighter than the North Star, and John fights every day to keep himself from the fog in his head to grasp at this soft golden light. It's easier at night, the weight of Gale in his arms a grounding presence, the distinct smell of him feeling more and more like home, but John is starting to make it through some days always there too. Listening to the radio also helps, especially when most days, it's just him and Gale at the table, the others keeping watch on the guards from outside. Soon it'll be too cold for them to do so without it being suspicious or dangerous for their own health, but for now, John is glad he gets to spend more time alone with Gale. His ma always said he fights tooth and nail for those he loves, and right now, he's desperately grasping at the fading rays of sunlight, selfishness be damned.

Today, the BBC doesn't have any interesting news to keep hold of his attention for long, so he mostly scribbles down what he hears without making sense of the words strung together, too focused on the solid presence of Buck on his right. With both of them being right-handed, it would have been too much of a hindrance to be pressed close enough for their shoulders to touch, but their knees knock together every so often, like silent banter. It sends sparks of warmth down John's spine, the focused tilt of Gale's mouth only amusing him in his boredom. In the past five minutes, he's sent his knee against Gale's in soft presses, alternating between lingering and fleeting touches until the word B-U-C-K is successfully floating in the air, though the man himself seems entirely unaware of it, tongue darting between his lips in concentration. Bucky's debating coding G-A-L-E, just to see if the rare occurrence of his given name will snap the other out of his focus when said man grunts softly as he scribbles, pencil scratching the paper as it nears the edge. John mindlessly hands him a blank piece of paper, more than attuned to all the different ways the other has to ask for something without voicing his desires, eyes trained on the stray blond curl falling on Buck’s forehead. Without lifting his eyes from his piece of paper, Gale extends a pale hand to take John's offering, the contact of their fingers sending a jolt through John's blood. He lets out a yelp, slightly jerking back before diving in to hold Gale's hands between his own, Buck's sound of confusion and protest as his pencil is thrown out of his hold swallowed by John's cursing.

"Jesus, Buck, your hands are fuckin' freezing." John doesn't feel particularly warm but the difference in temperature between both their hands is such that he half-expects the air to start hissing. How Gale can still move his fingers is a mystery to him, and his gut goes tight with worry. Trying to rub warmth back into those hands, John brings them to his face so that he can blow hot air on long fingers. He's deeply aware of how intimate the gesture is, especially in a place like this, and he can feel heat rising to his cheeks but he focuses stubbornly on his task. Keeping his eyes on those hands he’s never held so close to his face is a necessary precaution to ensure he doesn’t dismiss any inch of skin in his mission to warm them enough that he doesn’t have to worry about them falling off, and it has the additional effect of allowing John to study them without fearing being caught.

Gale's hands truly are beautiful. They've always been, and in the years he's known the other, John has spent more time than he probably should have admiring them. How they wrap in a strong grip around the yolk to wield a metal fortress effortlessly, how long, slender fingers bring a toothpick to the plump curve of his lips. Calluses on fingers and rough palms that were still so gentle and kind when they tended to John's wounds just a few months ago. Today, they look frail and dry, the knuckles angry red and cracked from the cold. It hurts to even look at them, those hands that were more suited for piano and gently guiding horses across fields now cracked by misery and cold. Acting on an urge, he presses a kiss to the knuckles of both, a silent promise to warm them and get them better, to get them far from weapons and barbed fences, and back to horses and piano and books.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Gale blinking owlishly at him, perfectly still. Between them, the radio crackles, words floating in the air but never making it to any paper. After a few more seconds, Gale's voice rises too, soft despite his usual deep southern drawl.

"I need my hands back, Bucky." John frowns, still rubbing his palms over Gale's hands to warm them. Admittedly, he knows Gale can't write with his foot, even though imagining it almost makes him smile, but really, nothing the BBC is broadcasting right now is worth the risk of Gale losing his hands to the cold. Unconsciously, he brings Gale's hands closer to his face, just shy of nuzzling them with the tip of his nose, already thinking of all the ways he could get them warm. It would be, like many things, easier at night. With the cold, everybody has taken up to sharing a bunk and no one would notice if Gale's hands were pressed to his skin, under his shirt. Even though the thought of those icicles against more sensitive skin than his palms isn't exactly a pleasant one, he'd do it in a heartbeat. For the day, when it would be too risky for John to hold Gale's hands in his pockets, maybe he could find him some gloves, at least make mittens out of socks, to soften the blow of the cold and the sting of the wind. 

"Bucky ?" Eyes snapping to Gale's, he finds him with his head slightly tilted to the side, cheeks red from the cold. It's then he realizes he still has both of Gale's hands in his. The other looks at him and then back at his paper before raising his brows in a silent question, making John huff. Reluctantly, he lets go of Gale's right hand but immediately cradles his left hand on his lap. He hopes Gale will be satisfied with this, but the other keeps looking at him insistently, a fond glint in his eyes but brows slightly furrowed, as if his left hand being held in both of John's is a math problem he can’t solve.

At the silent question, he rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting his own left hand on the upper part of Gale's paper, making sure it doesn't move from its spot on the table. The paper is smooth against his fingertips, contrasting with the rough feel of the wooden table that has given them more than their fair share of splinters on his palm. He misses the feeling of Gale’s hands in his. For a moment, he had felt whole in a way he usually only feels at night. Gale's hand is starting to get warmer in his, the skin rough from the cold, but John has never held something as delicate and precious as it, save for Gale himself.

Resting their joined hands on his lap, he intertwines their fingers and fights down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, eyes resolutely on the paper in front of the other. There’s no reason to feel nervous, they’ve slept in each other’s arms so often by now it really shouldn’t matter, but something about the fact that this isn’t about survival forces him to take a deep breath before moving. With one slide over the bench, his side is pressed to Gale’s, shoulders rising and falling in tandem. He’s glad to notice that Buck isn’t as cold as his hands, warmth seeping from his side to John’s as rapidly as the tension leaves the set of his shoulders until he’s pressing back into John.

They'll work slower like that but Gale doesn't protest nor take his hand away, only resettling slightly so his thigh also rests against John’s. Tentatively, he risks a glance at Gale and finds him looking down at the table, face still red but from something John has an inkling isn't the cold anymore, biting his bottom lip softly but mouth nonetheless quirked upwards. It takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint in him not to kiss him, to smother the affection blooming in his chest. Instead, after a bit of silence in which he feels he might suffocate on pent-up love, John squeezes Gale's hand in his and the other seems to focus back on his task, startled. Clearing his throat, Gale starts scribbling again, pointedly avoiding looking to his left, but John doesn't mind, a smile spreading his cracked lips, fondness written plain on his face as he doesn’t look away for a second.

On his lap, Gale squeezes his hand back.

[saturnville]

and I drove you crazy, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae

content: John is prepared to show Amelia that he is committed to her and only her. part two to sad girl. 18+ steam.

an: thoughts on MOTA pt. 7? again, thank you @turn-thy-paige for the letter-writing ideas.

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“Bucky, you haven’t shown her that you’re committed to her. She’s not obligated to wait around while you figure it out. You either want her or you don’t. But a woman like her doesn’t come around often, so I suggest you choose wisely. Other men are waiting to take your place.”

The words replayed in his mind like a song he couldn’t help but hum the words to. The logic of his best friend imprinted itself on the forefront of his mind. You either want her or you don’t. You either want her or you don’t. Choose wisely. Wise choices. Other men. Waiting. To take his place. His stomach churned in discomfort.

The sun dipped below the horizon, hues of orange and pink across the sky. John found himself alone with his thoughts, as he had been for majority of the day. The weight of his burdened his strong shoulders, and the fear of Amelia slipping through his fingers gnawed at his heart. His fingertips drummed against the iron headboard as his mind raced faster than a Jeep on a gravel road.

The silence in the room was deafening. He rose to his feet and paced around the room, his sock-clad feet slipping against the floor with every movement. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed against the bed again, carding through his hair in frustration. He knew he had to make things right, but where to begin, he wondered. That was the question that tormented him as he stared out the window, watching as the sun and moon traded places.

John felt stuck. He felt emotions he’d never felt before. They were big, they were intense, and they were overwhelming. He was rattled by Buck’s words, uncomfortable with the thought of another man looking in her direction, calling her beautiful, or asking her to dance. What would he do if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him? If she left him high and dry as she moved onto another man? His lip twitched in disgust.

He couldn’t believe it; a woman who he hadn’t known for even a year had turned his world upside down and it drove him insane. Caring for someone on such a deep level wasn’t what he was used to and it was an odd feeling. Having his chest cave, his throat constrict, and his shoulders burdened with guilt. Major Egan wasn’t sensitive to such things. But, John was.

His resolve solidified, John retrieved his boots and hastily packed a few belongings into his backpack. As he prepared to leave, a sleeping Buck stirred, casting a curious glance his way. "Where are you going?" Buck's voice was laced with concern, but John's determination was unwavering. "Amelia?" he guessed correctly.

John nodded, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. "I need to talk to her," he muttered, his jaw set in determination. With a final nod to his friend, he slipped out into the night, the weight of his goal heavy on his shoulders.

-

It was late. He was surprised when she let him enter her home. By the look she gave him, she seemed disturbed by his presence. He felt as though he had to walk on eggshells; the last thing he wanted to do was give her a reason to push him out and slam a door in his face. He had to be calculated. Meticulous.

John slid his bag off his shoulder and it hit the floor with an echoing thud. Amelia did not wait for him to gather his bearings before she walked away. He followed her into the kitchen, where she grabbed a ceramic mug from her cabinet and turned on the kettle. Its high-pitched whistle disrupted the disgustingly tense atmosphere his presence created. She swiped a tea bag from beside her stack of letters, placed it in the mug, and poured the piping hot water on top.

“Sugar?” she asked without facing him. He requested two teaspoons. She placed the mug in his hand. Always so considerate. However, the hope he had diminished at her question, “What brings you here, Major?” John forced himself not to roll his eyes in annoyance Had he upset her that badly? He sighed heavily and circled the rim of the mug with his fingertip.

“I wanted to talk to you, Rose.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. Her eyebrow rose and her tongue circle the roof of her mouth. It had been seven days since they’d spoken for more than five minutes and he came to talk to her late at night? She found herself growing more frustrated by his antics, but more disappointed by her inability to stand her ground. She refused to show any signs of weakness, so sternly she replied, “So talk.”

John pressed his back against the island, wincing once the draw handle punctured a weak spot. He placed the mug behind him. Carefully, he said, “You’ve been avoiding me. What’s that about?” Calculated. Meticulous. Walking on eggshells.

Her jaw clenched evidently. The muscles in her neck strained, her nostrils flared, and one again, her tongue circled the roof of her mouth. He recognized those mannerisms easily; she was thinking and trying to come up with an answer.

"I just figured I needed some space," she said after some time, her voice tentative yet resolute. “That’s all.”

John's expression shifted, a mixture of frustration and concern flickering across his features. So, we're doing this, he thought to himself. His chuckle was hollow, devoid of any amusement. Meeting her gaze, his voice was low as he probed, "Is that right?"

Her arms crossed defensively over her chest, a shield against the vulnerability of their conversation. She met his gaze with a hint of defiance, but her eyes betrayed the emotions swirling within her. With a hesitant nod, she affirmed, "That is correct."

His jaw tightened at her response, a surge of emotions rising within him. "You want to tell me why?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and longing.

Silence. Her jaw shook and her eyes welled with tears. She was strong enough to keep her rigid stature, but not enough to keep the lone tear from streaming down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “I don’t think we are on the same page here, John. I can’t tell if you’re wanting to be with me for entertainment or if you’re serious.”

“Amelia--”

She cut him off. “You take me out, you buy me a dozen roses a week, you send me letters, yet, for an entire weekend, I see women in your face…and what don’t you do? Reject their advances.”

He didn’t bother to speak as he knew she wasn’t finished.

“If you want a plaything, fine. A casual girlfriend, fine. You need to be honest and say it as it is. But I’ll let you know, I won’t be either one of those. I’m a good woman.”

John used his hands to press off the counter. He took a step toward her. “I know you are, Amelia, and its obvious I have made you feel that I don’t see that. I’m not going to say you’re right, but I can agree that I never made it clear with you what I wanted.”

Amelia’s chin rose as she soaked in his words.

“I do want to be committed to you. It hasn’t appeared that way, and I’m sorry. But, I haven’t cheated on you and I never will. I want this to work…I want to be yours in every way; tell me what I need to do, Amelia…”

He sounded so hopeless. His walls were torn like Jericho and left at her feet. Everything was new to him—love, commitment, and how to do it. John knew it left no room for excuse, but that was his honest truth. Everyday, he was learning how to love someone more than himself.

“Just put yourself in my shoes, Egan. I just wanted to be yours, in all ways, and I want to feel wanted by you. So, knowing that, how would you feel if you witnessed what I did, regardless of how loyal I claimed to be…”

The thought alone would drive him insane. He resisted the urge to show the look of despair that fought to show on his face. John urgently repeated, “Tell me what I need to do, Amelia.”

There was a moment of silence. Just a moment. It seemed like an eternity for John, who resumed drumming his fingertips, this time against the side of his thigh.

In an even tone and cadence, Amelia simply said, “Prove it.”

-

“Oh…” She was breathless. Her words were interrupted by soft whispers against the shell of her ear. She sighed softly against his face and wrapped her arm around his broad shoulders. “Johnny.”

Through hooded eyes, he caught a glimpse of her face. Her hair, which was usually pressed, was a curly array against her floral pillows. Her forehead glistened with the faintest sheen of sweat, which only made her glow under the rays of the moonlight. Her eyes were screwed shut and her lips were just hardly parted. Softly, he said, “My pretty girl.”

He brought his lips to hers, swallowing her soft cries and gentle moans. “I love you, darlin’. Do you love me?” She whimpered weakly, tracing the ridges of his muscles with her fingers. He winced when her fingertips dug into his skin.

“Yes!” she cried out. “I love you, I love you…”

As their bodies melted into each other, tangled in a fervent embrace, they whispered declarations of love into the quiet night. The four letter word sealed the bond between them. Love. And it was so.

[whirlpool-blogs]

hellooooo new gale headcanon -

cw: body image

oh so you’re saying part of the reason gale cleven is such an excellent pilot is because he’s acutely aware of the sensation of his own weight? you’re saying he’s sensitive to subtle changes in how his bodyweight feels to him? you’re saying he can literally use the yoke to subtly bodycheck himself?

[sagesolsticewrites]

Yes, Major

Dom!Croz. “Yes, Major.” That is all <3

Warnings: mature content (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), PinV penetration, praise kink), swearing

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

(oof tumblr absolutely destroyed the quality of this moodboard I’m sorry y’all 😭)

You suppress a shiver at the feeling of your husband’s hand trailing up your thigh, his other hand on the steering wheel as you head home.

The two of you had been making eyes at each other and leaving lingering touches all night, so when you finally arrive home, it comes as no surprise that Harry wastes no time in leading you up to your bedroom.

He presses you up against the bedroom door, his lips just barely out of reach, a teasing, predatory glint in his eye.

“Harry…” you whine softly, aching to have his mouth on yours, your gaze locked on his pretty lips.

Two fingers lift your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

“Major.”

Oh, Christ. Just when you thought you couldn’t get any wetter…

“Not Harry or Bing tonight, sweet girl.” he murmurs, thumb dragging lightly over your bottom lip as his brown eyes darken, “Major.”

You feel like you’re on fire, every part of you melting as you gulp and whisper “Yes, Major.”

He hums approvingly.

“Good girl.”

Forget melting, you’re evaporating under the heat of his gaze as his fingertips trail teasingly up your side before he steps away, pulling you with him.

He toys with the side snaps of your dress as he perches on the edge of your bed, leaving you standing between his spread legs.

“Take this off, honey,” he murmurs, his voice soft but the words clearly an order.

“Yes, Major,” you breathe, suppressing a shiver as your hands fumble with the snaps, undoing each one until your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in your slip.

His eyes drink you in, fingers barely skimming over the white satin of your slip, and you think you might actually die if he doesn’t touch you properly soon.

Harry notes this — of course he does, with those navigator eyes.

“Tell me what you want.”

You do, even though you know he won’t do it right away. Bing isn’t quite a tease, per se, but he tends to draw things out. Make you wait for what you want.

Still, you manage to let out a soft whine.

“Want you to touch me, please.”

“I will, honey, I will.” He assures you softly, though the pressure of his fingertips remains infuriatingly light, mouth twitching up into the smallest of smiles as he adds, “In a minute.”

You bite back a despairing moan as his hands leave you entirely.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” he nods to the bed as he stands, moving to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt.

Enraptured by the view before you, you simply nod as you climb onto the mattress, keeping your eyes on the increasing patch of chest hair being revealed to you, dog tags dangling in the middle of his chest.

“Words, honey,” Harry reminds you in a gentle-sharp tone that has delicious shivers racing up your spine— ones that definitely have nothing to do with the way his hands are currently moving to his belt.

“I— Yes, Major,” you whine, gripping the sheets none too delicately as you settle on your back onto the pillows.

“Good girl,” he says softly, his slacks joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Finally he touches you again: a featherlight drag of his fingers along your calf, prompting you to lift it.

You let out a shaky exhale as Harry bends to brush light, barely-there kisses along your calf, up your knee, towards where the hem of your slip brushes your thigh.

Praying that he’ll have mercy on you and give you what you want, you sigh a soft “Please, Major.”

“I will, sweetheart. I promise I will.” He mumbles against your skin, his lips moving… not underneath your slip, as you had hoped, but pressing light kisses to your body through the thin satin covering it.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, darling,” he murmurs, his lips dragging over your still-covered chest and up along your neck as he moves to hover over you.

You let out a soft whimper when his pretty brown eyes lock on yours, his hand trailing back down along the curves of your body to slide just underneath the hem of your slip, fingertips trailing up the inside of your thigh.

He inhales sharply as he brushes against the damp fabric covering your core.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, “All that for me?”

“Yes, yes, I—” you ramble, “All for you, Major, please—”

“Shhh, I gotcha, sweetheart,” he murmurs, watching rapt as he slips a finger under your panties to drag through your damp folds.

You let out a high, keening whine, throwing your head back as he slowly pushes one finger into you, pumping in and out before adding a second.

Soft whines escape as he fingers you, mumbles of “feels good” and “more, want more, please” tumbling from your lips as he remains infuriatingly steady in his rhythm. His thumb darts out from where his other hand is resting on the pillows next to your head to stroke along your cheek, his way of getting your attention.

As your eyes meet his once more, he asks in a low tone, still maintaining that slow, steady rhythm in and out of you, “You want more?”

At your furious nodding, a gasp of “yes, please” escaping you, he hums.

“Please what?”

You can hardly think, your need for more speed, more something taking up a majority of your brain, but you manage to dredge up a plea of “Please, Major,” and suddenly more is happening.

Harry slips a third finger inside you, an act that has you moaning loudly at the stretch, and that combined with his thumb on your clit and the pace that suddenly feels faster than a B-17 has you tumbling over the edge with a cry.

You come back to yourself, legs shaking, in time to feel him gently remove his fingers. You let out a soft whine at the sudden emptiness, letting your eyes open to a sight that has heat rushing to your core all over again.

Your husband has his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, and when he meets your eyes you see something utterly molten in his gaze.

“Christ, honey…” he groans, moving to hover over you properly once more, “You stay right here, yeah? Something I wanna do…”

With that, he moves down your body, pressing kisses over your slip to your chest, your stomach, until he’s settled between your legs, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs.

You crane your neck to watch as he slowly lifts the hem of your slip, revealing your underwear. You watch, holding your breath as he maintains eye contact and brushes a kiss to your core over the fabric covering you as his fingers toy with the waistband.

“‘M gonna take these off now, alright, sweetheart?”

You suppress a gasp at the words mumbled so close to your most sensitive parts.

“Yes, Major.” You nod, and can’t help adding a soft “please.”

You feel him grinning as he presses a kiss to your thigh.

“Good girl.”

He gently peels off your underwear, adding it to the pile of clothes on your bedroom floor.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, lips a hairsbreadth away from your core, “do you have any idea how pretty you look from down here?”

Before you can even think of replying, his mouth is on you and your hands are flying to grip his hair with a gasp.

You cry out his name before you can correct yourself, hips arcing off the bed, and as soon as it was there, his mouth is gone.

“What was that, sweetheart?” He asks lowly.

“I—”

It takes your mind a moment to catch up, but when you do…

“You said you were gonna be good for me, honey,” he warns, his mouth still far too close to your core for you to truly think clearly, “So let’s try again. What’s my name?”

He licks a fat stripe up through your folds, and you throw your head back onto the pillows with a cry of his rank.

“Major!”

“Much better,” he praises in mumbles against you, “good girl.”

The room fills with your whines and gasps and moans as you lose the ability to form words entirely when Harry’s thumb comes up to gently circle your clit, the combination of his tongue inside you and his thumb on the bundle of nerves enough to have you quickly approaching your second orgasm of the night.

“M-Major…” you stammer out between whines, your fingers raking roughly through his curls.

“Already, darling?” He murmurs against you, sounding almost amused, “Go on then, honey. Let go, it’s okay.”

You reach your second climax with your husband's rank on your tongue and his tongue on your core as he greedily laps up your release.

“Fuck, you taste absolutely perfect, sweetheart,” he sighs as he returns to hover over you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss before rolling off of you briefly to wriggle out of his boxers.

“Think you can give me one more, honey?” He asks softly, grinding his length slowly against you.

You can’t help it: you moan out loud at the feeling of him against you before confirming with a pleading “Yes, Major, yes please, I want to—”

“Christ, sweetheart, okay, okay,” he murmurs, breath hitching as the tip of his cock snags on your entrance. He rocks forward, letting out a groan as he sinks into you.

“Oh- shit, honey, you’re perfect,” he sighs against your lips, your breaths mingling as you gasp into his mouth.

His eyes remain locked on your own as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back into you, hips snapping determinedly against yours. You give in to the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, clamping down on your bottom lip to bite back a moan as he hits deep inside you.

Your eyes fly open once more as he gives a sharp nip to your neck, his nose dragging along your jaw as he murmurs, “Wanna hear you, darling, lemme hear you, come on…”

Your mouth falls open to let out a wanton moan, words tumbling out as tension builds within you with every thrust.

“Major— Major, don’t stop, please, feels so good—”

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he pants against you, feeling you clench around him, “Come on, give me one more, just one more, honey.”

You shatter as you reach your third climax of the night, your body nearly going limp as you cry out. He buries his face in your neck as, with two more erratic thrusts, he follows suit with a shuddering cry before slumping against you, utterly spent.

He presses sloppy kisses up your neck as the two of you attempt to catch your breath, murmuring gentle praise as he pulls out of you — “you’re perfect, angel, did so good for me, such a good girl” — huffing out a laugh as you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks softly as he settles in next to you, pulling you into his chest, “It wasn’t too much, was it?”

You hum contentedly, toying with the tags dangling in the middle of his chest.

“Not at all, Major,” you assure him, a teasing sparkle in your eyes on the last word. He laughs, and you continue, “It was perfect, Harry.”

His eyes go soft hearing his name, and he leans down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, thumb stroking gently along your cheek.

“I love you too, Bing,” you say softly, raking your fingers through his mussed curls.

He pulls you closer, resting your head on his chest as you finally allow sleep to overtake you both.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Bucked & Fxcked

Label Mature 18+

Finding out there is a military deployment party at the live music hall across from your college immediately entices you and your room mate. Bored with college boys you each excitedly plan to snag and shag a handsome soldier for the night, but when you lay eyes on two of the most handsome and suave majors you have ever seen in your life you can’t decide which one you want more. They both tease and seduce you in ways that get you so hot between the legs you flirtatiously admit you wish you could have both.

Upon hearing your words and realizing they won't get an opportunity like this with such a beautiful dame again they come to an agreement, they'll share you. They bring you back to their base in one of the Majors offices locking the door and double tapping you with pleasure the entire night.

No established relationship

Groping•objectification•degradation •fingering• biting• gspot fem •nippleplay •clitplay•restraint •threesome•oral sex m/f• P in V •sex on a desk• oral sex f/m• multiple orgasms •simultaneous orgasms•squirting • bukkake (2 males ejaculate on female )• cum eating• after care

Inspo: needing to be Fxcked by both Bucks 🥵

~*Bucked & Fxcked*~

You and your room mate get dressed in form fitting low cut tops and A-line skirts putting on lip stick and heavy mascara before leaving the dorms at 7:30 in the evening.

You are taking the half mile walk together with dozens of other girls from the college campus to have some fun at the live music dance hall.

All the girls are in their prettiest dresses giggling excitedly walking arm in arm gossiping because a platoon of soldiers will be there for a special military event dancing the night away before they deploy.

You and your room mate have already had quite the sexual experiences sneaking college boys into your dorm room after midnight for quick romps going through the roster never feeling completely satisfied.

You were both very excited to try something daring and new.

As you approach the establishment you hear the swing music getting louder. People surround the well lit dance hall talking, laughing, some coupled up already kissing. You see cars parked in the distance with couples inside making out.

You nudge your room mate pointing it out to her and she smiles mischievously, you both thinking the same thing, it's the pure debauchery you are expecting. The double doors to the dance hall swing open as a couple walks out arm in arm the music is blaring and there is a surge of excitement in the air as you enter.

The space is enormous red white and blue fan fare hanging everywhere. American flags stars and stripes draped colorfully on full display every where you look.

The dance hall is so loud, the brass band is deafening as you look to the players on stage. The floor is packed with a sea of men in green and brown uniforms holding colorfully dressed young ladies giggling, swirling, dipping, twirling, its orchestrated chaos. They nearly miss colliding with each other doing dangerous and provocative dance moves dizzy with excitement and booze.

You are so excited in this environment until your friend is immediately swept away by a handsome soldier who smiles at her twirls her and pulls her onto the dance floor with him. You smile at each other as she giddily waves farewell.

You head to the bar feeling your mood dip without her, she got swept up so quickly, you want to see if you can bump into anyone else you know from campus as you make your way through a crowd of dancers near the blaring trumpets being played on stage.

You are stopped in your tracks by a pair of dancers almost knocking into you, just as they clear your path, your eyes lock onto two of the most dreamily handsome Majors you've ever seen in your life.

They are standing with their elbows rested on the high tables in the drinking area near the bar. They are overlooking all the actions of the lower ranks.

Your gaze must have lingered a little too long because they both look over at you and make eye contact smiling so gorgeously you are shocked and wave politely.

One is a tall blonde with a gorgeous face, plump lips, strong jaw, perfect nose, and big blue eyes. The other is a towering brunette with a handsome face, broad nose, full lips, angular chin, and flirty blue eyes.

Your heart begins pouding as they wave back. The brunette making the signal he wants to meet you at the same time the blonde points to you to gesturing hes coming over. You laugh to yourself in shock as they both head your direction.

It's probably the sexiest thing to have two handsome men walk across a room and approach you. They are taller than you expected, you look up to them when they are standing directly in-front of you. They both smile at you making you blush, they are so clean cut and neat, they smell amazing.

When they try to speak to you over the music they begin laughing unable to get their words across you are all too close to the stage and can't hear a thing with the saxophone blaring. Finally the blonde leans into your ear "Come to a table it's quieter" he says holding your gaze nodding and gesturing you to come, you nod smiling and follow them.

They pick a table at the back corner farthest from the stage in a more secluded area.

Once you all settle down the music is at a manageable level and you can finally hear each other speak. "Hi!" you say cheerfully just happy to look at their handsome faces up close.

They each take a turn shaking your hand " I'm Gale" says the blonde "Im John" says the brunette, their eyes full of attraction as they stare at you.

"The boys call me Buck and him Bucky not to confuse you, the nick names are a long story" Gale says and looks at John to confirm but hes too busy giving you the dreamy eyes. Gale smacks him lightly on the chest for staring at you like that.

John snaps out of being mesmerized by your beauty and flashes you his normal pretty smile his flirty eyes still making you blush, heat creeping up your neck as you smile back politely.

Gale just shoots John a knowing look, it's the night before deployment so there is only one thing on all the men's minds at the dance hall, securing a girl for the night and now he and John are both set on the same one, you.

"Can we get you anything to eat or drink?" Gale asks politely as John rubs his fingers across his lips and chin admiring you. "Oh no l'm fine I'm actually a student at the college so they feed us supper every night, and seeing its Friday my friend said all the military were having a deployment party here so we wanted to get out and have some fun." You smile innocently and look away hiding your lustier intentions.

John rests his elbow on the table covering his mouth he turns away from you hiding his smile thinking you are so naive coming to a bar full of sexually deprived soldiers for fun looking this good.

"Well where is your friend?" Gale asks perking up thinking maybe he can introduce John to her and secure you for himself because you are clearly the most stunning girl they've both ever seen and he doesn't want to compete with John the entire night.

You scan across the dance floor and spot her just as the solider from earlier is holding her with both hands twirling her around panties flashing as he dips her.

"There she is, and wow that soldier is a really good dancer!" you say excitedly.

Gale and John shoot looks at each other knowing shes dancing with the number one play boy on the base before John blurts out "Yea she's not coming back to the dorm tonight!" and they both burst into laughter.

Your face flushes a little hot from them making fun but you remain calm and you show some assertiveness

"Well that's the plan gentlemen we don't want to go back to our dorm tonight" you retort and they both fall slack jawed.

"You don't say" Gale says in amusement, his eyes flashing attraction now as he looks at you. "What are they teaching you young ladies in college these days now anyway?" He asks intrigued, his voice turns sultry.

You feel the heat rising in your core as he locks in on your sexual deviancy wanting to know more. You look away hiding your sudden shyness as you answer "All sorts of things" your voice softer feeling you've just admitted to all the sex you've been having. "Is that so?" he says leaning closer staring at you so intently you return your eyes back to his. John clears his throat to interrupt the sexual tension and blocks Gales advances by speaking up.

"Well if you're not going back to your dorm, and you are planning to leave here with one of these fine gentlemen." He says extending his arms to show just how many you have to chose from in the dance hall before continuing "Which one are you choosing to leave with?" He asks with intent, his eyes full of all his hidden thoughts about you as he smiles.

When you smile back at John and then Gale, your face flushes as you feel the heat creep up your neck again.

You bite your lower lip trying to regain composure.

He and Gale flash each other looks, they've been serving in the military together long enough to be synchronized communicating with just a glance or a gesture. They have both decided it is now a competition. They sit back looking debonaire and cool awaiting your answer of who is the victor.

"If I had to chose one?" You say scrunching your nose cutely uncertain of which one you want more. You feel the arousal pooling between your legs as they both stare at you so seductively.

You decide to play with them "I wish I could have you both" you admit flirtatiously. Their faces look shocked making you giggle. "Both? " Gale says stunned. John looks around in disbelief holding back his laugh that you couldn't decide. "Yea just for one night" you say nonchalantly actually really liking the idea now seeing how competitive they are, all the attention would be on you.

Gale and John look at each other as they realize you are serious. Then it sets in that you really aren't going to choose and that they'll never have an opportunity like this with a beautiful dame like you again. "Would you excuse us just one moment." Gale says his face flushing red as he tries to act unfazed. You bashfully nod secretly wondering if they'll both agree to take you at the same time tonight, you squeeze your thighs together wet at the thought.

They stand and walk only a few steps away turning their backs to you lowering their voices "I think she's serious." Gale says with a stunned expression on his face making John start chuckling.

"Shes definitely serious and I kind of want to do it just to see the surprised look on her face when she realizes what she's asking for." John says smiling mischievously. "Getting fucked by the Bucks?" Gale says making them burst into laughter.

Gale comes to his senses and gets more serious

"Alright the ground rules then; if it get awkward we stop, if she starts screaming for her life we definitely stop, I get one side you get the other, and I think it could work." John smiles and agrees to the plan going insane with the fact you've already astounded both of them.

Gale peeks over his shoulder and sees you sweetly smile and wave flirtatiously at him, you like how they are being so shy and cute now.

"Yea look at her John she gets finer by the second, let's go get her." They break their huddle and return. Gale extends his hand to you and as you take it he wraps his arm around yours John extends his arm to your other side and you wrap your arm around his too. You try to contain your giddiness and excitement as the three of you leave together.

You exit the loud dance hall into the quiet night arm in arm with two handsome strangers. You are laughing inside of your head how crazy the idea is and how it's coming in to fruition.

You approach the military car and Gale gets his keys as John gets your door. You sit in the back seat and John gets in to sit next to but Gale pulls him back by the collar of his military jacket. "In the front" Gale snaps sternly with a look of 'don't touch her yet'. John laughs he really wanted to sit and talk and get to know you more, but Gale can’t have that.

During the short drive to the base Gale keeps peeking in the rear view mirror at you. "If you need anything let me know" he says actually feeling anxious that you left the dance hall with them rethinking the whole thing.

John on the other hand is fully invested "So what's the real reason you have to have both of us? What are you expecting us to do once we get here?" he asks peering back at you over his shoulder.

"Just have a little fun" you reply casually. You've already had so many trysts you assume if one can't satisfy you the other one could. "Is anything off limits or is it a free for all" he grins cheekily elbowing Gale who's focusing so hard on the easy drive that John knows he's too worked up in his head over this.

"It's just sex" you roll your eyes gently. For you it's a basic missionary hump for 2 minutes like all of your encounters they would definitely be top 10 for most handsome though.

"It's... just... sex" John repeats your words deliberately getting Gales attention shielding his lips discreetly mouthing ("I don't think she's had good sex") Gale tries and fails to hold back a quick laugh, finally breaking his nervousness. He realizes you think one will take you and then the other, having no idea of all the sexual things he and John are going to make you experience tonight.

You look out the window and see the entrance to the military base, its gigantic so many barracks and buildings it's practically its own town surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Gale slows the car down and shows his ID to the guard who salutes him and lifts the road block.

They drive in through the rows of buildings until they reach an office structure Gale hops out and comes to get your door. The base is unusually quiet all the men still at the dancehall partying the night away.

John gets his keys out first and unlocks the front entrance to the building the three of you walk inside through the lobby to an office door. You read the name plate 'Major Gale Cleven' as he unlocks and opens it.

Once you enter Gale clicks on the lights and John locks the door bolt behind you. They immediately begin to toy with you letting you know you are their plaything to be shared.

Gale steps in and kisses you as he gropes you all over your dress around your derrière and up your chest squeezing your breasts in both his hands.

John watches getting hard and jealous seeing Gale get to touch all over your body. Gale gives him a show that you'll let them do anything to you and firmly squeezes his hand around your derrière before pulling your dress up over your waist holding it there to show John your panties.

Gale breaks from the kiss with you "Come take her panties off and finger her” he says. You are so aroused loving how they speak to each other taking charge over you. Gale begins kissing you again holding your dress pinned up in the back for John.

When John kneels down behind you, his fingertips touch up your soft thighs reaching to your hips and hooking his thumbs in your panties sliding them down.

He looks at your perfect derrière and kisses across your exposed cheeks in worship. They’ve already done more than you've ever experienced your panties cling to your wetness as he pulls them lower. "Gale shes fully soaked" he says pulling your panties all the way down. Your pussy is glistening in his face, he trails his finger through your folds collecting your arousal gently rubbing your tight entrance making you clench around nothing.

He takes two fingers spreading you open like a book massaging your inner folds inches from his face getting drunk with arousal on the sight of your pussy. He slowly inserts his two long fingers inside of you making you moan into Gales mouth breaking his kiss "How does she look?" Gale asks through ragged breaths his cock already solid.

John whistles "It's one of the most pretty pussies I've ever seen" he says sliding his large fingers in and out of you amping up your arousal tilting his fingers to reach toward your navel and curling them back down making you moan loudly into Gales face.

Gale pulls your top halfway down exposing your breasts and rubs them gently in his hands. He trails soft kisses up your neck then pinches your nipples so hard it makes you bite your lower lip stifling your moan in your throat as you clench on John's fingers.

"I know I know" Gale coos at you "We're giving you things you never even knew you needed" you nod feverishly you love it your core pulsing as you feel your climax start. You are getting so wet with arousal it begins leaking out of you down John's hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Gale she's going to cum she's already dripping down my hand how should we take her?" When John says it, your face flushes and your knees buckle from pleasure.

"Make her cum on your fingers, I want to make her cum again on my tongue " Gales looking in your eyes as it registers what he said you moan from his dirty words. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, it makes them smile they are turning you out in so many ways.

John cups his large hand holding your bottom cheek kneading it as he plants kisses then gently bites into it.

When you feel the pinch of his teeth in your flesh it makes you clench so hard inside that he knows your about to orgasm. He begins pummeling his fingers into you so feverishly it makes your body shake as you feel the force of his knuckles wetly smacking against you.

Gales looking you in the eyes but you aren't able to focus back anymore just moaning lost in the pleasure of John's fingers about to make you cum. Your brows already knitted with your mouth panting and deeply moaning, your core clenching. "You like it when he fingers you?" He asks a little jealous.

"Yes Yes YES YES YES!" You repeatedly yell in his face triggering Gales jealousy. He reaches his hand between your legs finding your clit and rubbing it in time with John's finger-fuck. It makes you have an earth shattering orgasm instantaneously between both men.

" OH GOD OH G.." Gale cups his large hand over your mouth muffling your repeated moans and continues his assault on your clit making you cum so hard. It was so easy for them to make you orgasm he knows he can get one more. "John keep fingering her I want to make her cum again" he says it looking you in your blissed out eyes. You already feel the tightness building inside of you ready to be released again when he says it.

John turns his fingers inside of you from curving up to facing downward. He slides them up toward your navel this time hooking a squishy spot inside. Your body jolts when he finds it making you shiver and see stars. He pulls his fingers over it in a 'come here' motion pushing his fingers deeply in and out of your soaking entrance until your thighs are trembling and you are almost crying moaning into Gales hand.

He rubs his other two fingers over your wetness into your clit strumming it until your body tenses and you can't catch your breath. Tears rim your eyes as Gale removes his hand from your mouth seeing you so blissed you are unable to even breathe .

Your body gives in and your core snaps giving you such a powerful release from the orgasm that you feel like you are on cloud 9. John is still slowly hooking that special place inside until your shoulders shudder and you come down collapsing against Gales chest. He shushes you petting your hair as you breathe rapidly onto his neck the orgasm draining your energy entirely.

John slides his fingers out of you and sucks them clean licking his lips enjoying the sweet taste of you. He stands up his thick cock erect and strained in his pants as he begins to undress.

“Your doing so good for us” Gale coos and begins to make out with you cradling your head in his hands probing his tongue in your mouth. His cock is so hard he brings your hand down to touch him and you gasp in his mouth realizing both of these 6ft tall men are going to be so big between the legs it makes you whimper.

Once John is fully naked Gale passes you to him

"Hold her for me" Gale says as he gets undressed.

John holds you at your waist trailing his hands up your pulled down top to your exposed breasts. He softly circles his thumbs on your nipples.

You look at his wide chiseled chest, placing your hands there looking down farther and audibly gasp seeing the size of his length as he presses it against you without taking a step. His girthy cock a dark pink color just beneath his abs between his thick thighs. John smirks at you seeing the reaction he’s been waiting for.

"Turn her around " Gale says after he heard you gasp from Johns size. John turns you to face away from him holding your upper arms firmly.

You watch Gale finish undressing down to his boxer shorts, he slides them off revealing his long thick cock with a big round tip that makes your knees go weak.

"Hold her tight" Gale tells John and he grips your arms so you can't move.

Gale approaches you and continues pulling your top all the way down cupping your breasts in his hands. He leans in and slides his tongue out licking circles around your nipple until you start to moan then he licks the other. He switches back to the first nipple and slowly sucks it in his mouth twirling his tongue around the bud until you begin to squirm rubbing your knees together then he pinches the other one hard making you moan.

He alternates between each breast with either love or torture until your core begins pulsing from all his flicks and licks and pinches. You begin moaning deeper and rubbing your thighs together for sexual relief, you are absolutely soaked. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop the sensation hitting right to your core as your knees buckle and John keeps you standing

Gale reaches behind your waist unzipping your skirt letting all your clothing fall to the floor. You stand between the two men all three of you completely naked.

Gale looks you over head to toe nodding in approval stopping to stare between your legs, your thighs trembling drenched with your own arousal. "John you are right this is one of the prettiest pussies l've ever seen" He says smiling as he slides his hand between your legs cupping your folds. He forces you back into John's hard cock, the tip firmly pushes through the back of your thighs rubbing against your wet heat . You let out a high pitched shaky moan and shudder having hit your peak of pleasure.

The sound makes both of their cocks twitch at the tip.

"Put her on the desk" Gale says as John picks you up, his giant arms setting you back down on the desk and spreading your legs apart with his hands holding your upper thighs. John is so greedy for you and begins passionately kissing you lining himself up to push himself inside of you.

Gale snaps at him "Lay her flat on the desk and hold her down she needs more" Gales unspoken rule is he gets you first. John goes around the desk as Gale takes his place standing between your legs caressing your upper thighs. John helps you lay flat on your back and holds your hands above your head pinning them against the wood holding you by your wrists. You look down to Gale poised between your legs and then look up to John pinning your hands above your head to the desk. You are completely at their mercy.

"It's just sex huh?" Gale asks repeating your words from earlier to show off his prowess. He kneels down between your legs spreading your thighs wider until your knees are against his desk, he parts your pussy lips open and latches his mouth on your wet folds sucking and slurping them with the tip of his tongue and the suction of his mouth you completely give into him loving it so much.

He flicks your clit so hard with his tongue your back arcs from the table. You moan loudly as your hips jump up almost unable to withstand what he's doing. You look up and see John's eyes staring darkly at you loving seeing how aroused you are getting and wanting to give you more.

He pins your wrists with just one large hand taking the other to squeeze one breast at a time caressing your nipples with his flat palm then pinching them repeatedly until you begin writhing and moaning on the desk due to the sensations from both men.

You are panting and moaning loudly feeling so tight in your core as John pinches your nipples and Gale thrusts his tongue deep inside your pussy. Your moaning intensifies into a stronger tantric rhythm of “YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES YES "as you are lifting your hips into Gales mouth. Your wetness slipping all over his lower face.

He stops to wipe his mouth and pins your hips firmly to the table with his hands so you can't move. "John she's noisy when she's about to cum make her be quiet" he says diving back down between your legs.

John presses his soft plush lips on yours in an upside down kiss eating your moans as Gale eats your pussy.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your body clenches so tight your back arcs from the table body tensing until your core snaps releasing clear liquid arousal all over Gales mouth, you moan into John's as you orgasm for them both.

Gale removes his mouth from you, his lips and chin covered in your clear slick cum. He licks his tongue as far around his lips as he can he can't get enough of your taste then he grabs his shirt from the floor wiping the rest. He throws it back down returning to his position between your legs.

Your vision is blurry, hearing distorted legs trembling body shivering. You feel so high from the pleasure you are delirious. "I've never felt like this before, Ive never cum like this before " you whisper to both of them your body feels like you are floating off the table. John leans in and kisses your mouth, seeing you in such pleasure he wants to be inside of you so badly. Gale pulls your body to the edge of the desk flush against him slipping you out of John's grasp breaking the kiss. "We haven't cum yet" Gale says making your core start throbbing.

John gets impatient you can see the flash of anger that he wants relief but Gale keeps taking you. He moves to your right, looking over your pretty body his giant cock pulsing as he's getting ready to pleasure himself over you but you reach out and grab him around the base first making his abs clench and his face flush as he locks eyes with you and you stroke him off.

"Are you that needy?" Gale snaps watching you give John a hand job. Gale in a newfound competition for your neediness runs his tip up and down your wet folds making you moan loudly "MMMM YES YES PLEASE!" you cry out wanting him inside of you. "Quiet her with your cock" Gale tells John.

John shudders from arousal staring at your pretty mouth open and moaning not planning to use you like this. He takes your head turning it to the side to face his pelvis and you release your hand from his base as he slides his heavy cock into your wet mouth filling it up.

You feel his tip squish at the back of your throat but he can't fit completely in your mouth due to his size. A small gasp escapes Johns lips at how amazing your mouth feels on him. He gently slides his large cock in and out of you mouth coating his length in your saliva.

Gale stops rubbing his tip through your folds as you leak arousal all over his desk from sucking John's cock, he wants finish you with his and places his hands on your hips lining up and pushing himself between your legs. Your moans are stifled with your mouth full of John's cock, and your entrance makes Gale slow his pace immediately. " Fuck she's tight!" he says loudly and begins working his length half way out, half way back in until he can begin smacking his hips between your legs burying his cock fully inside of you.

John is already blissed out eyes lidded his adams apple bobbing. He places his large hand on your head holding it in place as he thrusts into your mouth his powerful thighs flexing as he uses you.

You feel so aroused having both men satisfy you and themselves at the same time. The familiar tightening of your inner coil begins. The more each of them rams their cock inside of you the tighter your core gets until your moaning on John's and clenching on Gales. The tightened coil springs free inside of you giving you a sweet release that’s is so euphoric you don’t want it to stop . Your moans of extreme pleasure are muffled on John's cock but your fluttering walls gripping Gale tightly are the tale tale sign for him, once he feels you orgasm on him he wants to cum.

He slides his heavy cock into your tight soaked entrance faster and harder until it's making obscene squelching sounds. He starts pounding his hips between your legs making you scream on each hit vibrating John's cock in your mouth. Once you earn the first moan out of John feeling your mouth suck and vibrate on him he can't stop.

They both begin groaning in tandem getting off at the same time their deep guttural moans sound so good its cataclysmic to your ears and rattling your brain.

"I'm gonna cum" Gale yells as John shouts "fuck fuck fuck" thrusting in your mouth quickly and slipping his cock out unloading hot spurts of cum all over your chest. Gale pulls out of you too pumping his shaft vigorously making depraved moaning sounds as his body tenses and he spreads his silky warmth all over your naval.

They take several seconds to calm down staring at you covered like a sexy pastry "Should we make her taste us?" Gale asks already knowing the answer John grins they each dip a finger in their cum and bring it to your mouth. You suck Gales finger first then John's. Gale goes to get a towel to clean you up.

John grabs your jaw turning you to face to him caressing his thumb on your chin, he wants you more and to himself. He stares into your pretty eyes making him fall for you instantly a shiver running through him thinking you are the sexiest thing in the world.

Gale returns from the sink with a warm wash cloth gently wiping over each breast and down your naval cleaning you completely of their combined cum.

Gale sits you up slowly on the desk checking on you

"Are you alright?" He asks. You look up at him smiling weakly " I feel really good" you say smile spreading bigger across your face. He already has to have you again, he holds your waist caressing your naval with his thumbs. He's feeling things that he doesn't know how to process because he and John will never get over this.

John sees you both having a moment and feels crestfallen thinking he should just leave. He collects his boxers putting them back on as Gale looks around and finds his.

You slip off the desk and collect your clothing stepping into your skirt. "Where are you going?" they both say in unison. "I thought you would ask me to leave" you say thinking it's easier to leave as quickly as possible and never see them again. "You're staying the night I'm taking you back in the morning" Gale says. He goes to a blank wall of his office tugging a cord and releasing a pull down queen size Murphy bed.

"Oh" you say surprised. Gale enters his office wash room retrieving a tooth brush and a towel with one of his boot camp shirts handing them to you finalizing the stay.

You smile to yourself that Gale wants you to stay. You enter the bathroom brushing your teeth listening as Gale and John debate outside about the sleeping arrangement because John wants you to stay in his office instead and they can't come to an agreement.

You emerge from the wash room looking cute to break the tension " Do you guys want to take a shower with me?" You ask sweetly and they both drop the argument. Gale enters and starts the water, when it gets to temp he moves out of your way letting you step in first.

You rinse your hair and body as they brush their teeth.

Gale finishes first getting in the shower with you, John enters second. They tower over you in the small space as they take turns rinsing their bodies off. Your eyes can't stop staring at either of them feeling like it's heaven on earth. Shiny wet muscles, large hands, smiles, abs, large cocks, strong thighs.

They satisfied you so completely you can't even think about sex your body is only craving rest.

John finally gargles playfully and spits water out from the shower head finishing first. He takes a quick flirtatious peek at your body before exiting the shower. Gale turns off the water and hands you your towel and you use it to get dry.

Both of them dry off and wrap around their waists. As you finish drying your hair Gale helps you pull his boot camp shirt over your head. "Thank you" you say shyly in appreciation "It suits you" he says admiringly. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the bed

He turns down the covers and ushers you in you crawl and sit in the middle. John is putting on his boxers getting dressed to leave when you lock eyes with him

"Can you stay?" You ask nicely and he smiles at you then looks to Gale whose his lips are pursed in a definite no. "Weve already done ...everything else together...might as well actually sleep together " you smile at Gale sweetly to persuade him.

Gale doesn't respond he just goes to click off the main light in the room. You lay down and look at John patting the bed for him to come lay next to you, he smiles and climbs on top of you and planting a small kiss on your forehead to say thank you. He lays on your left side getting under the covers spooning you from the back holding you to him by your hip.

The remaining bathroom light clicks off and Gale joins a second later settling in front of you face to face placing his hand on your waist pulling you to his chest, John pulls you back to his side and Gale pulls you back to his side once more until they settle with Gale placing his hand on your waist and John placing his hand on your hip, you lay directly between them cuddling in the dark as you all fall fast asleep.

~*End*~

[stylespresleyhearted]

something about gale cleven having been called pretty his whole life — was taunted for it at school, one of his dad’s friend would trace his mouth and his cheeks and tell him he was real pretty, like a little girl and it doesn’t get any easier as he’s older because even at base the men always do a double take when they first meet him and he’s heard a few major cleven’s gorgeous could take him and pretend he’s lana turner and bucky never verbally called him pretty until they got together later on but he would squish his cheeks and pinch his chin and even in the stalag when he’s being processed a few of the officers are making comments and leering at him and he feels violated in a way he thinks only a woman would understand, thinks maybe this is why the government didn’t let women enlist, cut to post-war bucky coming home one day and buck’s nervously waiting for him in a pretty church dress that cinches his tiny waist and lifts so prettily when he twirls, showing he has no underwear underneath, just his pretty, fat pink cock, more girth than length, and slightly darker balls hanging but bucky knows all this so he just brings him in and kisses him and says you’re my pretty boy aren’t you and buck just preens, so happy, because yes he is pretty but he is a boy and he can be both

[wayrad]

Clegan Brokeback Mountain AU

All We Got on ao3 | 18.9k

Signal, Wyoming. 1963.

Gale Cleven and John Egan up on a mountain. Things get pretty dramatic, eventually.

(It's a goddamn shame there's still a war on)

[blurredcolour]

VI. "Trust Me, Doll..."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

War is hell and every time it seems you and Bucky adapt to your new normal, the game is changed yet again. When at last Victory in Europe is achieved, the pair of you can finally focus on forging the way ahead.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Grief, Mentions of Death, Imprisonment, Pregnancy, Childbirth in Retrospect, Child Rearing, Motherhood, Era-Typical Sexism and Marital Expectations, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Sex While Trying Not to Be Overhead] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note(s): This is it! Oh wow, we made it, kids! Thank you to each and every one of you for your incredible engagement with this series it has truly been an inspiration! I love all of you and have more Bucky thoughts brewing!!!

As always, letters/telegrams have image descriptions that can be accessed by clicking the 'ALT' button. Special thanks to Marina @precious-little-scoundrel for helping me untangle numerous plot points in this series. I could not have done this without you, darling! This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7444

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Your sudden return home in mid-February had been decidedly awkward. Without time to send a letter of warning, you had spent a lot of coins on a phone call in a telephone booth at the hospital in New Jersey while you awaited the arrival of a WAC commanding officer to process your discharge.

To say your mother had been surprised to hear your voice over the line was an understatement. Mercifully, your father had already left for work that day and you had only had to break the news to her. Given the frosty welcome you had received from him by the time you managed to reach the steps of your childhood home, you hated to think what his reaction would have been if you had informed him that his unwed daughter was kicked out of the Women’s Army Corps for being pregnant without the softening interference of your mother.

It was truly disorienting to be back somewhere so very familiar when you were so utterly different. The war had left its marks here too, though. A gold star banner hung proudly in the front window, in honor of your brother, and your mother’s garden out back had mostly been turned over to the growing of vegetables, with a huge stockpile of jarred preserves now overflowing the pantry. But the two bedrooms at the top of the stairs belonging to you and your brother, separated by a small hallway that was really no more than a glorified landing, were exactly as you had left them in 1942. As if they were frozen in time. Dusted and cared for, but ready and waiting for you to pick up your old lives.

Only your brother was never coming home, and you had returned home but entirely changed. After the relentless pace you had maintained since enlisting, the thought of remaining at home in idle leisure was too off-putting to even contemplate. You allowed yourself a few days of adjusting to the violent change in time – at least when you had traveled to England you had been afford several days at sea to transition. Flight across the Atlantic had been utterly jarring, and it had taken great discipline to turn your nighttime back into day.

But once you had re-acclimated to the North American clock, you had promptly ventured out to find yourself gainful employment at a nearby grocery store. The owner, Nick, was a friend of the family. A kind man who did not seem interested in asking too many questions about why you were back early, was simply eager for the help around his store. It was most definitely not as mentally taxing as the work you had previously undertaken as a WAC, but it was money, and that was sorely needed as babies were expensive.

Your mother seemed fretful about you working in your ‘delicate condition,’ but the demands of the position paled in comparison to the one you had just left, and you rarely worked more than six hours a day. There was still plenty of time to sit with her, improving your knitting skills as you started on a baby blanket. Your mother was duly impressed you had picked up such a feminine skill abroad and seemed more than happy to pass along helpful hints.

In all truth she did appear to be struggling, dwelling frequently on memories and nostalgia for happier times. It was difficult to say how your father was coping in the wake of your brother’s passing. Any hours when he was not at work, he was spending behind the closed door of your dead sibling’s room, all manner of noises and the odd curse word seeping through the cracks, but neither you nor your mother were quite certain what he was up to.

You had sent a letter to Bucky immediately upon your arrival, as promised, still not divulging the full extent of the situation, but it had been stocked with reassurances and re-direction. It appeared he had not yet received it based on his letter that reached you in mid-April.

Damn that man, but you did love him so. Baby animals – had he guessed the true nature of your discharge then? Gnawing ruthlessly on your lower lip, you found yourself pacing around your room, one hand rubbing at your lower back, sore from standing all day with the growing weight of your swollen abdomen.

‘Or is he simply fishing for more information, unconvinced?’ You wondered to yourself, sighing heavily.

He was simply too intelligent for his own good. Another man would simply have taken your words at face value and left it at that. But there was a reason you had not fallen in love with another man. Had not given yourself to another man.

With another deep sigh, you dug out your writing supplies and drafted a reply that acknowledged his statements but neither confirmed nor denied them. There was no desire on your part to entrap or obligate him into anything. That was the last thing you wanted – to pin a man who so cherished his freedom down against his will. Particularly after enduring his current stay in a prison camp.

As the weather grew ever warmer, it became increasingly difficult to conceal your predicament – no matter how baggy or oversized your dresses were. Your engagement ring only went so far in polite society to protect you from judgemental stares and by the end of April you were forced to quit your job and confine yourself almost entirely to the house. May seemed to drag on, though you certainly managed to knit a wide variety of nearly perfect baby clothes for different stages.

Perhaps the brightest spot came one evening when your father emerged from the room opposite yours and left the door open for the first time since you came home, revealing not the preserved bedroom of your brother, but a fully prepared nursery, complete with an assembled crib, rocking chair, dresser, and change table. As you stood in your doorway in shock, eyes brimming with tears, he shoved his hands into his pockets and gruffly muttered, “baby needs somewhere to sleep after all,” before trudging down the stairs to the bedroom he shared with your mother.

June burst onto the scene with the Allied invasion of France and the good news only continued with the signing of the GI Bill on the 22nd. Your years of service and honorable discharge earned you, and your very active and rapidly growing baby, subsidized medical care. It could not have been timelier as appointments became more and more frequent, your due date looming at the end of July.

Much like her father, Clara Mae had a mind of her own when it came to her time of arrival. She was born in the middle of the night on July 22nd at the local veteran’s hospital – one of the first GI Bill babies, the nurses informed you.

The choice of her name had been rather easy, derived from Bucky’s middle name - Clarence. While you could not give her his family name, or even list him as her father on the birth certificate without his signature, you could at least give her this for now. He had already given her his mischievous eyes and unmistakable ears. Time would tell what other of his features she would share. If the grey-blue of her eyes would settle in the color of the stormy sea like his. If the slight dusting of fuzz of her head would grow into luscious, dark curls.

Sitting there in sore, stunned exhaustion as they carted her off to the nursery, you looked up as your mother sidled over, the broad grin of a recent grandparenthood still splitting her face.

“We have to write Major Egan right away and let him know. Oh he’ll be so thrilled, a sweet little girl to come home to now!”

The force with which your face crumpled, physically unable to bear to weight of all your falsehoods and desperate attempts at inner strength one moment longer, sent your tears scattering down the front of your hospital gown. Your mother snapped her mouth shut, completely taken aback by the abrupt shift in your mood, before she collected a wad of scratchy hospital tissues and tenderly wiped at your eyes.

“There now, I know. It’s been a tremendous effort, and things are very difficult.” She soothed and cradled your head to her breast, rubbing your back softly.

Despite becoming a mother yourself not a full hour ago, it seemed you were still very much in need of one yourself.

“What if he doesn’t want me, mama?” You gulped and looked up to her pathetically as you finally gave voice to perhaps the greatest fear that had been stalking you since the realization that you were pregnant had come crashing down upon you. “We’re not even…it’s not even real…” Your eyes dropped to the false engagement ring that mockingly glinted up at you from your left hand.

She sighed deeply before her hands grasped your face and forced your gaze to meet hers. “Well, pumpkin, I’d say that a man who writes to you despite the difficulties is one of the good ones. And usually it’s the good ones that do the right things.”

You frowned and shook your head slightly, as much as her tight grip would allow. “But I don’t want him to do the right thing. I want him to marry me because he wants to…”

There was another maternal sigh before you were gathered close in her arms once more. “Let’s hope for the best then. I’ll get Felix from down the street to bring his camera. We’ll send a photo of sweet Clara Mae and see if she can’t work her magic on him.”

------------

The Allied invasion of Western Europe had felt like a gift from above, flooding Bucky’s life with a new sense of purpose, and shattering the grim monotony that had calcified everything around him. The gnawing hunger, the biting cold, the evasiveness in your letters, the constant worry and uncertainty he felt for both himself and you. There was surely only one explanation, at least only one rational, sane explanation for your early discharge. But he’d had far too much time on his hands to postulate and theorize all manner of possibilities and their catastrophic outcomes.

June 6 had brought an abrupt and decisive end to that, a sharp divide to their life in camp, and a need for preparations now that the Commonwealth forces were closing in from one side and the Russians from the other. It was early September when he received your life changing letter, two small photos tucked securely between your folded, scented pages. One of you, looking so very beautiful it made his heart ache fondly. And the second of a very tiny infant with remarkably familiar ears.

He huffed fondly and turned back to the letter to read it properly as you finally confirmed what he had long suspected.

Shaking the envelope once more produced a square of paper with the stamp of his daughter’s – his daughter’s – footprints on it.

Cradling it in one palm, he could not help but gawk at the small scale of her. She must be truly tiny…only 20 inches.

“Your girl finally explain herself?” Buck leaned over his shoulder, and he nodded, holding up Clara’s photo.

His friend barely contained a snort and Bucky scoffed in return. “I know – poor girl’s got my damn Dumbo ears. Couldn’t even deny she’s mine if I wanted to.”

“She’s beautiful anyway, despite your influence.” Buck smirked and handed the photo back carefully. “Congratulations. What’s her name?”

“Clara Mae.” An involuntary grin of pleasure overtook him as he said it, quite enjoying the way it sounded. You had picked well.

“Your girl did an excellent job. Be sure you tell her so.”

“You know I will.” He replied with a firm nod.

------------

The twelve weeks it took to hear from Bucky were both a blur and an agony. Clara did her utmost to keep the household, and you in particular, thoroughly occupied. You were somewhat relieved that your parents were sleeping on a different floor than her, that it gave you a chance to dart across the hall and mollify her discordant wails with a fresh diaper or a feeding. But on those nights when even you could not seem to sort out what ailed her, your father stepped in and patiently walked her up and down the length of the porch until she melted into the crook of his arm.

Truly, for such a small being, she had the entirety of her grandfather wrapped around her littlest finger. Clara was the first he greeted upon returning home from work and the last he kissed goodnight. None of this would have been possible without his willing arms, nor your mother’s endless wisdom when it came to washing bottles and diapers and Clara’s vast wardrobe of tiny clothing. But in the quiet moments, when she was busily suckling in your arms or just as you were falling asleep, your thoughts would always fly across the Atlantic to barbwire fences and Bucky.

You hoped your letter reached had him. You hoped it had all of its contents still, that none of them had been lost while being reviewed by the censors and whomever else pried into your mail. His reaction? Well you could not even dare to hope what that might be. It would cause your entire body to tense almost painfully and prevent your lungs from filling with air.

Every day you did your best not to look too eagerly as the postman delivered the mail, flipping through the envelopes calmly, hiding your disappointment when his reply was not there. Your agony came to an end, at last, in mid-October. Hearing your soft gasp, your mother offered to take Clara on her morning walk – it was generous to be sure, but you were also more than aware that she enjoyed the attention warranted by pushing the gorgeous girl through the neighborhood in her pram.

Settling down at the kitchen table once they had left, you sliced open the envelope anxiously.

Tears of relief were tracking down your cheeks by the time you reached the end of his letter, making it difficult to read his words clearly. He had replied. He was not angry, nor dismissive. He called himself Clara’s father. And there was an oblique, very Bucky-like proposal in there. Your watery laugh echoed in the empty kitchen before you sniffled in a very unladylike way. God, you missed him so very much. By the time your mother and Clara returned, your tears of relief had been replaced by sobs of longing that had her tiptoeing through the house, deeply concerned his letter had been one of rejection.

Looking up at her apprehensive face as she peered through the doorway, you smiled through your pain and nodded. “It’s good news.”

“Oh, well…good.” She gave you a somewhat bewildered smile and found a handkerchief for you to once more clean yourself up before you gathered Clara close.

“Your daddy says he loves you, peanut. What do you think of that?”

Clara’s face stretched into one of her toothless grins that came just as easy as Bucky’s did, and you fought the urge to cry again. “Yeah…me too.”

Your reply to Bucky’s letter was accompanied by a holiday card fingerpainted by Clara, now that you were confident in the mailing time of roughly six-weeks, as well as another set of dry goods for him to share with his friends. Time continued to march on and in an effort to better document Clara’s rapid growth, you purchased a user-friendly camera, having Felix give you some lessons.

Mid-January, Clara received a gift from her father – a stunning ink drawing of him done by one of his roommates apparently. It had been over a year since you had looked upon his face and the breathtaking detail captured by the man who drew it, A. Jefferson based on the signature, inflicted an intense barrage of memories. You promptly went to a five-and-dime store to purchase a frame for it, setting it on the dresser in Clara’s room next to a model of a B17. You made a point of showing it to her every day, telling her stories about her daddy – only the appropriate ones of course, wanting her to know him.

That it was also self-soothing was simply a bonus.

That letter was the last one you received from him. As Clara’s features sharpened into Bucky’s, and his dark curls framed her face, it was his gaze staring up at you from your arms as the weeks ticked by with no word. When the abnormally harsh winter yielded to spring once more, there was still no reply to your January letter. The war was all but won, the Germans quite literally surrounded, the Russians in Germany and yet there was nothing.

It was mid-April when the dreaded Western Union vehicle pulled up in front of the house, your heart leaping into your throat.

‘Please let him be alright.’

Your mother had been in the kitchen, working on lunch, but silently appeared at your elbow, ghosts of her own heartbreak etching her features.

“Deep breaths. Anybody can send a telegram, not just the War Department.” She murmured and knelt down beside Clara on the rug to play with her as you forced your leaden feet to move towards the door.

Accepting the yellow envelope from the infuriatingly neutral-faced boy, you confirmed that it was indeed addressed to you before impatiently tearing into it.

Exhaling shakily you smiled in relief. Major Cleven must have escaped. That he would have spent the money to send a telegram to update you on Bucky, and to share a message from the man himself, was quite moving. You could not help the chuckle that escaped you, however, at the fact that this was twice now that Cleven had terrified you in the process of trying to share good news.

“All is well?” Your mother asked softly from the living room, and you turned quickly with a smile.

“Yes, he’s ok, his friend somehow made it back to England and wanted me to know he’s doing alright.”

The smile she gave you in return contained no small amount of relief.

The Russians were in Berlin by the next time Western Union made its second delivery at the beginning of May.

‘Please, when we are so very close to victory, please.’

Even less patient with this envelope than the last, you felt a swell of elation at just the first word.

And he meant it. It was not entirely as soon as either of you would have liked, given that Victory in Europe happened not a week after that telegram, on May 8, 1945, but Bucky certainly did come to you and Clara as soon as it was possible.

It was a hot afternoon in early July, the wind having abandoned everyone when the sun rose that morning. Clara was in a bit of a mood courtesy of the heat and her desire to move about the house independently. Certainly, she had been crawling for months, terrorizing everything and everyone in her path, but as of late she had been pulling herself to her feet and trying desperately to take those first few wobbly steps towards upright freedom. She certainly could manage it while gripping tightly to your fingers for balance, but today her chubby cheeks and granite eyes were screwed tight in consternation as she swatted your hands away to go it alone.

“Alright peanut, off you go then.” You smiled encouragingly, sitting back on your heels as beads of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

Letting go of the edge of the coffee table, she wavered and wobbled, overcorrecting her round little infant body before landing heavily onto her bottom with a squawk of frustration.

“So close, so–”

The rapping of knuckles against the wooden frame of the screen door cut off your statement and you scooped her up, perching her against your right hip as you rose to your feet.

“Let’s go see if that’s the postman with Grandma’s package, shall we?” You smiled and tickled her soft tummy with your free hand, earning a giggle accompanied by her gap-toothed grin as you headed over to the front door.

The man standing there in uniform was most certainly not the postman, however.

“Bucky…” You whispered in shock as he stood before you, in the flesh, after nearly two years of constant worry and concern.

All that separated you now was a flimsy screen door, which you lurched forward to shove open. His eyes were wide as he stared at the pair of you, Clara peering at him curiously. The movement of your left hand caught his eye and his brow furrowed as his gaze landed on the ring you had been hiding behind since April of last year, making you swallow painfully.

“It’s not real.” You murmured quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression, and stepped back to invite him inside.

The sound of his bag hitting the floor was all the warning you had before he was pulling you tightly against him, burying his face into your hair. Pressing your face against him in return, you clung to the back of his uniform jacket, wondering if he had always smelled this good or if he had bought new cologne since returning stateside. A sudden strangled sound came from his throat, and you straightened quickly to see Clara had a ruthless grip on his tie and a wicked grin on her face.

“Ta.” You said firmly, holding out your hand and she surrendered her stranglehold on the piece of fabric which you carefully tucked back into his jacket.

Bucky smirked down at her slightly, but his eyes were filled with barely concealed wonder. Clara, for her part, did not seem the least bit fazed by him whatsoever. Her chubby little fingers moved to trace the shiny buttons of his jacket before stretching up to brush along the coarse hair on his upper lip.

“You like my mustache, Miss Clara?” He grinned and pretended to devour her finger as it strayed too close to his mouth, sending his daughter into a fit of giggles and making your cheeks ache from smiling so wide.

An involuntary yawn suddenly overtook her, and you glanced at your watch, nodding as the time confirmed your suspicions. “It’s nap time, I’ll just take her upstairs.”

“Can I come?” He asked softly, making no move to release his hold on you and you nodded quickly, pressing your lips to his cheek softly before leading him to the stairwell at the back of the house.

“This place looks exactly how you described it…” He murmured softly, threading his fingers through yours as he followed.

Looking back to him, startled, you swallowed down the swell of emotion that had been threatening since you had first laid eyes on him. “I told you about it once, in that…hotel room in London…almost two years ago.”

“And I’ve imagined it almost every day since.” He assured you easily as you climbed the stairs, making you shake your head in awe.

Glancing through the open door into your room curiously for a moment, he followed you into Clara’s nursery, grinning softly as his eyes landed on the drawing he had sent.

“You gave it to her.”

Setting Clara into her crib, you turned back to him. “We talk about you every day.”

Bucky’s eyes met yours and he smiled gratefully before reaching out for your left hand, his thumb stroking along the band of the ring there.

“You know, this isn’t very believable, doll.” He muttered and you felt yourself tense as you eyed him, suddenly nervous in his presence after all those months apart. You had been separated longer than you had even known one another. “I’d have bought you a much bigger rock.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Laughter, something that felt so foreign to you after its long absence, bubbled up from your chest while tears simultaneously flooded your eyes. His hands cradled your face as his lips met yours at last, the kiss distinctly salty despite the best efforts of his thumbs to swipe your tears away. Laying your hands atop his, it began to sink in that he was really home, he had truly made it back to you. And Clara. There was no more need for constant fretting and pleading mantras. He was here.

“In fact I did.” His statement, a continuation of his discussion about your fake engagement ring, felt disorienting as it interrupted your inner musings, and you watched in confusion as he sunk to one knee right there in Clara’s bedroom, slipping the piece of costume jewellery from your ring finger before tucking it one of his pockets.

It was not until he produced a much shinier ring, with a larger and very real diamond, that you registered just what was happening. He addressed you properly, by your full name, before asking the question.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes of course I will.” You nodded vigorously, watching him clumsily slide the heavier ring onto your finger before his mouth was on yours once more, demanding and possessive.

Pressing against him, you would have completely forgotten yourself if not for the sound of your mother calling your name from the bottom of the stairs, tone laced with confusion and worry – surely from finding the front door open and a piece of strange luggage in the front hall. Bucky pulled his lips back and pressed his forehead to yours, hot puffs of his breath caressing your face.

“Parents’ house…”

You let out a small laugh of chagrin. “Parents’ house.” You confirmed before pulling back and guiding him out, leaving the door slightly cracked so you would hear when Clara awoke.

Miraculously she had slept through the entire exchange, a superpower she had surely inherited from her father. Descending the stairs, introductions were made, and you did not miss the way you mother’s eyes lit up as she took in the new ring on your finger. Your father was slightly more difficult to win over, still smarting from the perceived mistreatment of his little girl. You were more than a little convinced he might be taking Bucky to the toolshed to shoot him when he asked for the man to accompany him out there for a chat after dinner.

Your aggressive scrubbing of the dishes in the sink as you watched anxiously out the window amused your mother to no end.

“He’s just ensuring Major Egan has your best interests in mind.”

“He’s not gonna kill him, is he, mama?” You worried your lip and she laughed, wiping Clara’s sticky fingers clean after her joyful decimation of a bowl of sliced strawberries.

“He will do no such thing.”

By some miracle, the pair of them immerged unscathed twenty minutes later, shaking hands and sharing a laugh. You rediscovered the ability to exhale and prepared Clara for her evening walk, which Bucky insisted on joining. Even though you assured him you had a perfectly good pram, gestured to where it sat on the front porch, he insisted on carrying Clara on his hip, much to her delight.

Not only was the vantage point much better, but she had unfettered access to all the intriguing bits of his uniform to occupy herself with as the pair of you followed the usual route around the neighborhood. While no one had taken it upon themselves to be overtly rude to you, something about seeing all six foot two inches of Major John Egan carrying his carbon-copy daughter with you on his other arm seemed to go a long way to repairing your somewhat tarnished reputation around town.

People who had politely nodded or offered no more than tight-lipped smiles were now openly waving and calling greetings as you passed.

“Sure are popular around here, doll.”

“I assure you, it’s the pair of you.” You smirked at him and Clara who was busily tugging at the flap of his breast pocket. “Everything alright after your visit to the toolshed?” You asked now that you were far enough away from the house that your father would not hear.

He nodded easily. “Your father and I are of like minds. You and I are going to the registrar’s office tomorrow to get a marriage licence and then we’ll get this little one’s birth certificate sorted as well.”

“He wasn’t…too harsh on you?” You asked with more than a little trepidation.

Bucky looked to you softly. “No more than I deserved.”

“You deserved no harshness, we both know full well how this happened…”

“I sure didn’t stop you. Couldn’t have, even if I had been able to think straight.” He smirked and kissed your temple. “So we did it out of order, that’s fine. It’ll all be how it was meant to very soon.”

Sighing fondly you continued your progress until Clara was slumped against his shoulder, barely able to keep her eyes open. By the time you returned to the house, your mother had set up a small camp bed in the nursery for you and moved Bucky’s things to your room for the night – everyone agreed there was no way he could possibly be expected to sleep on the sofa. He was simply too long. Wishing one another good night in the hallway with a lingering kiss, you pressed your lips together as your mother cleared her throat expectantly from the landing below and slipped into the nursery for the night.

It was difficult to say how long you had been asleep when a faint noise, your ears now well trained to listen out for the smallest of disturbances, woke you. It was most definitely still dark when you raised your head, immediately looking to the crib to see Clara sleeping peacefully on her stomach, index and middle fingers of her right hand suckled soothingly by her full lips. Shifting your gaze in the dimly lit room, you jumped slightly to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe, clad in his boxers and undershirt, silently watching her sleep, expression pensive.

Sliding to your feet as gracefully as the low bed and your thin cotton nightgown would allow, you padded over to him quietly to whisper, “everything ok?”

“She’s just so small…” He replied in a hushed voice, gesturing with his hands, eyes still fixed on Clara’s sleeping form, and you smiled fondly.

Reaching out, you gently manipulated the distance between his palms to represent how small she had been as a newborn. “She was only that big a year ago.”

His eyes tore from the crib to study the small gap between his hands before lifting slightly to drink in how little you were wearing, how thin the material was to try and make sleeping in the summer months bearable. His eyes briefly flicked to yours, revealing the rapid dilation of his pupils before his mouth descended onto yours ravenously.

Sliding one arm around his waist, you pressed with the other against the centre of his chest to guide him back across the hall, closing the door to your bedroom behind you as you quickly surrendered and parted your lips for him. He grunted eagerly, pressing his fully hard length against you through the thin barrier of your clothes, making you gasp at the rapidity of his response.

“The damn sheets smell like you, I’ve been hard all night.” He groaned and you quickly smothered his mouth with yours, well aware just how loud he tended to get.

If you were lucky enough to get away with this, you were going to have to be as quiet as possible.

Rucking the hem of your nightgown up over your hips, he pivoted to deposit you onto the edge of the bed, settling between your thighs as you worked one another’s underwear off. Pressing skin to skin, his head fell back, and you quickly slid your palm over his mouth to smother his eager sighs, rocking your folds along the length of him as you gnawed on your lips and swallowed your own keens. Bucky’s eyes bored into yours hungrily as he mirrored your movements, almost daring you to keep quiet as he continued to moan against your hand.

Silence became impossible for you too as the blunt tip of his cock snagged on your entrance and he rocked his hips forward, slowly sinking into your warmth. Falling back onto the mattress, you slapped the hand that had previously been propping you upright over your own mouth to smother your eager groan as your eyelids fluttered in the struggle to remain open. Shifting forward once he had settled fully inside you, Bucky’s face hovered just above yours, eyes still pinning yours as he began the eager push and pull towards ecstasy.

Desperately trying to keep your hands in place over your mouth and his, your back arched at the long forgotten and very heightened sensation of being so very stretched by him, trembling with each brush of his pelvis against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands planted onto the mattress on either side of your head, fisting into the sheets as his hips snapped demandingly into yours, each sharp exhale from his nostrils cascading across your knuckles as you felt the tension building within you.

Sweat glistened on both of your skin, the efforts in the lingering heat of the night only making you both slick as you writhed beneath him, heart hammering inside your ribcage. And still his eyes would not leave yours. The one time you gave into the urge to clench them shut, he sent them flying open once more with a sharp nip to the meat of your palm and you quickly wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer, deeper.

You could feel him clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth, desperately driving into you until your body shattered in release, nearly going limp with the force of it. Bucky nestled his face tighter to your palm as, with two more erratic thrusts, he followed suit with a harsh cry, thankfully still smothered. Slumping forward, utterly spent, you cradled him close a moment before shuffling and maneuvering to rest against the headboard with him properly nuzzled against your neck, and his legs mostly on the bed.

Stroking his hair lovingly, every so often scratching your nails along his scalp, you could not help the fond smile as his harsh breaths evened out and the weight of him grew heavier against you when sleep overtook him. Sighing softly, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to join him in rest.

The next time you opened them you were alone, tucked beneath the sheet, the soft light of dawn filling the room. The distinct sound of Clara’s giggles carried from across the hall, and you sat up, grabbing your summer housecoat and peered into the nursery to find the pair of them perched on the camp bed engaged in a very entertaining game of wooden blocks it seemed. Bucky had retrieved the model of the B17 from the dresser and was frequently swooping it down to destroy whatever Clara’s clumsy little hands built, much to her delight.

“Ah, Mommy’s up.” Bucky’s statement revealed that you had been caught and you smirked, stepping into the room to kneel on the carpet beside them. “Did we wake you?”

Shaking your head softly, you kissed Clara’s head and then Bucky’s cheek. “Did she wake you, though?”

He shrugged. “Probably my turn anyway.”

You smiled tenderly, laughing as Clara clutched at his arm to demonstrate that she had assembled a new construction in need of his attention. Watching fondly, you blinked slightly to see a new addition to the dog tags, crucifix, and medal that he normally wore. Amidst the collection was now the faux engagement ring you had sported for over a year. Reaching out, you traced your finger along it, raising an eyebrow in silent question as his eyes met yours.

“To remind me of that time I was overly reckless.” He murmured and you swallowed painfully, pressing your lips to his firmly.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he pulled you snuggly into his side, continuing to entertain Clara easily.

“We’ll get the licence today but, what kind of wedding would you like, doll?” He asked quietly.

“Just a date at the courthouse is fine.” You assured him with a nod.

“You don’t want a big wedding or anything? Honestly doll, anything you want and it’s yours.” He assured you softly.

You laughed watching your daughter gnaw on the corner of a wooden block. “Seems a bit hypocritical to put me a white gown don’t you think?” You smirked and shook your head when he looked ready to defend your honor. “I don’t need all those fancy things John, I just need you.”

When he finally came up for air, your lips more than a little swollen from his attentions, he huffed a laugh.

“Not sure what I’m going to do with the parachute I smuggled home now, though…”

“Well, Major Cleven’s getting married soon, isn’t he? I’m sure Marge would appreciate it. She seems lovely from the letters we’ve exchanged.”

He turned to you wide-eyed, struck silent, and you could not help but laugh. “Never underestimate the ingenuity of women, John.”

Bucky shook his head in awe. “Trust me, doll…I would never be so foolish as to underestimate you.”

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"Trust" Series Masterlist

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