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mccall-muffin · 11 months ago

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

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

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

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

Here is my Masterlist

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

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

The Ritz, London, 1943

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Major John Egan,

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

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

Date: This evening at 7 o'clock post meridiem

Dress Code: Formal (Black Tie)

Location: Wellington House, Kent

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

Kindly present this invitation at the entrance.

Sincerely, The Duke of Wellington

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

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

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

House Wellington, Kent, 1943

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Part

#Masters of the Air #MoaT #John Egan x OC #Bucky Egan x OC #John Egan x reader #Bucky Egan x reader #John Bucky Egan #BoB #Callum Turner #Sorry not sorry

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balladofthe101st · 8 months ago

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#buck compton #bucky egan #buck cleven #john egan #john bucky egan #gale cleven #gale buck cleven #band of brothers #bofb #bob #masters of the air #mota #hbo war

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darkseidex · 1 month ago

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masters of the air John Bucky Egan Gale Buck Cleaven Jujutsu Kaisen Satoru Gojo Suguru Geto Nanami Kento Toji Fushiguro Ino Takuma Shiu Kong Sukuna Bikeriders Benny Celebrities Austin Butler ( including elvis) Lewis Hamilton Martin Bob Semple Calum Turner Comics Jason Todd Dick Grayson Bruce Wayne Diana Prince Clark Kent Call of Duty Simon Riley Kyle Garrick John Price Mace (MORE TO BE ADDED )

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jesssssssssssssssssssssssw · 5 months ago

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Im not really happy with it but I doubt I’m gonna keep working on it lol so whatever

#band of brothers #hbo war #bastogne #bob #world war ii #easy company #mota #motaedit #band of brothers edit #the pacific #eugene sledge #robert leckie #snafu #gale cleven #bucky egan #richard winters #lewis nixon #100th bomb group

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basilone · 2 months ago

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I had every intention of sending this Friday & don't know if you're still taking any prompts but I must admit I'm rather 👀 about Nora and Crank. How about ¹⁵⁾ new graves, a busted headlight and silver rings?

Thank you so much for sending this in! 💙 I saw that prompt and went "this is perfect for spooky season", soooo... I put my AU goggles on, put my horror-loving cap on, and went to work. Crank and Nora have their hands full here, but they still get their precious moments! 😉 (This is not hugely horror-y overall, but definitely features some fun references. Also Buck as a vampire and Bucky as a werewolf, because I can do anything.)

“Your headlight’s busted.”

Charles spreads his arms wide in exasperation as soon as he exits his truck. “What, no proper greeting? No good evening, Crank, thank you for coming, Crank, thanks for bringing your truck to this meeting, Crank?”

“Yeah, thanks,” waves Bucky, grin visible even in the dim light. “You should get that looked at. Bet Buck can do it”– because, of course, according to Bucky there’s not a thing Gale Cleven can’t do –“or that girl DeMarco’s getting really serious about. The redhead.”

“Right,” says Charles, sighing, “the redhead he hasn’t even talked to. At all. Ever. Even though he shares a class with her and has done so for the past six weeks.”

“A class he’s already failing,” snorts Bucky, with no small degree of relish. [read the rest on AO3!]

#charles cruikshank #john egan #benny demarco #gale cleven #john brady #oc: nora #oc: lottie #mota fic #basilonefic #spooky season realness!!#also please observe TWO BoB-related easter eggs here

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swifty-fox · 5 months ago

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Love your art. Is there any chance of you adding the pic you did of Clegan from your Little Beasts fic (the one where Gale is wearing glasses) to your Redbubble? Pretty please 🥹

fun fact i actually hate that art so much I cringe whenever it gets a note the proportions are SO off.

but for you anon...

Here is a compilation of all the pieces now up on my redbubble

#swiftyart #clegan #mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #masters of the air #bob #band of brothers #spiers #ron spiers

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disastrouscanasta · 9 months ago

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did the BoB fallout universe within my brain accidentally expand to include a clegan drabble, yes, yes it did

i actually wrote this for my dear friend @krakerjaksstuff, for not only her unwavering and very much appreciated support, but also to feed her interest in clegan and mota >:3

John had still been asleep when the bombs dropped. If it weren’t for Gale dragging his ass out of there the moment things had gone to shit, John would have been another one of the folks obliterated in their own home. He wouldn’t have even known what hit him, he thought.

Instead, he was granted the joy of sterile smelling bed sheets in his carefully furnished bedroom, thick metal walls and a stiff, uncomfortable jumpsuit.

“Suits you, at least.” He told Gale. They’d all gotten issued their things quickly and without much hassle. Not everyone who’d gotten a reservation through Vault-tec’s American Veteran plan had made it to the shelter. John was sure that the empty housing units would haunt him, once he got more familiar with the underground floor plan.

“Yeah, well, it’s better than nothing.” Nothing was what they’d shown up with. Gale had packed a small kit, though it was hiding in the linen closet, wedged between the wall and the lowest shelf. It was just precautionary, supposedly. But neither of them had thought to grab it on their way out.

John had gotten out of there with the skin on his back, barely having enough time to slip on the shoes he’d left out next to the coat rack. Normally Gale would have been on his ass about putting them away with the others, this time he didn’t say a word. Hardly mattered, anyway. They didn’t get to keep their clothes. John would have been hard pressed to miss the pair of boxers and t-shirt he’d walked in with.

“D’you think they’ve got a bar here?” John said. He sat on the sofa in his unit. It was stiff, he was sure the leather had never been sat on before. He could almost smell the factory-freshness of it cut through his stuffy haze.

Gale stood in the kitchenette, pulling open John’s cupboards and drawers. John hadn’t even bothered to look.

“No clue.” Gale shot him a look. “Get a soda.”

“It’s the goddamn apocalypse, Cleven.”

“Get two sodas, then.” Gale crouched down, fiddling with the knobs on the oven.

“You just want me to get you one.”

John didn’t move from his spot on the sofa. He slouched back, laying his head against the back of it. The bright fluorescent lights above his head were glaring. He wondered if there was a way to fix that.

“Y’alright?” Gale asked, still crouching. His knees rested against the dull grey concrete. John wondered how thick the metal beneath it was.

John hummed. He wasn’t sure what he was or what he wasn’t. With every inhale and exhale he felt the stretch of his jumpsuit, he hoped he could break it in fairly quickly. Maybe the old military tricks to soften his boots could help with this thing.

“Just thinking.” He said. “Whole lot to think about.”

“And a whole lot of time to do it.” Gale told him. John heard the patter of his boots as he crossed the room, coming to stand at the arm of the sofa. “Don’t gotta do it all right now.”

“Could have been us dropping those bombs, Gale.” John said anyway. “Could have been us.”

“But it wasn’t.” Gale dropped a hand to his shoulder. “We’re alright.”

“Wonder what happened to the pilots.”

“Maybe the Reds have their own vaults. And I bet they’re drinking Red Colas instead of thinking about some Americans hiding in their own hole in the ground.”

“You’re really caught up about that, huh?” John turned, looking Gale in the eye properly. Everything about the deep set of his light eyes was telling John that they shouldn’t go on with the conversation, that Gale was giving him the easiest outs he could take. “Glad we ended up in the same damn hole in the ground, Buck.”

“Like you wouldn’t have found your way in through some ventilation shaft, maybe you’d dig right through the walls.” Gale squeezed his shoulder. “C’mon, there’s gotta be something that’s more fun than staring at the ceiling.”

“Gonna have to get used to the ceilings in here, might as well start now.”

“Wise-ass. You’ve got time, you can do that later. Isn’t that the whole point of these things anyway?” Gale held out a hand, which John took, letting himself be pulled off of the sofa. Gale gave him a pat on the back, “C’mon. Maybe they’ve got smokes in this joint, just make sure you do it next to the vent or something.”

Gale made good points. Though they were solid reminders that John wouldn’t feel the wind through his hair for another, what? Ten, fifteen years? When they opened the doors back up, he wondered if there’d even be planes out there to fly. More likely than not, the America he knew was gone.

He’d joined the military for his country, at first. He’d stayed for men like Buck. For Buck, he thought sometimes. Well, if he couldn’t have America then by god he’d keep Gale.

#playing fast and loose with fallout canon and mota canon for my own personal gain #again this wasn’t planned. though. the luztoye fallout au is 100% planned #and 75% likely to be completed #conceptually multiple BoB ships fit within it but they’re not interconnected #so uh. yeah #feel free to chit-chat about fallout. hbowar. hbowar fallout ‘verse #mota #clegan #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #fallout au

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kiwi-and-pasta-at-3am · 9 months ago

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Alright gang, question of the day

What do you think would happen if these two ever met like at a bar or something, I need to know

#putting my favs from each show at a bar to see what happens #i call myself a man of science #band of brothers #bob #masters of the air #mota #ronald speirs #ron speirs #john bucky egan #dream smp #is there some crazy brunette in the Pacific too #i need to know for science

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raven-of-miramar · 10 months ago

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MASTERS OF THE AIR FINALE

Just a few thoughts because I just want to hdgxhdjjehhxhdhe all over this. I FUCKING loved it but anyways

Goddamn that opening🥺😬

Oh hey Douglass

LETS GO CROZ- jumping and screaming

Winter march-NOPE I would definitely die

My boys🥹

You can literally see Rosie’s resolve solidify into seeing this thing to the end-the very fucking end

Rosie and Croz-just them

The Liberation-god bless Shermans and P51s

The Horse

Buck’s footlocker

Our guys all flying together 🥹🥰

Fucking Bucky in the tower🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽

He called him Gale🥹🥹🥹🥹

The entirety of the last ten minutes 😍😍😍😍😍😍

I really loved how there was kind of a return to the first two episodes. The lightness had returned and it was palpable.

#masters of the air #mota #mota spoilers #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #harry crosby #rosie rosenthal #james douglass #ken lemmons #bloody hundredth #hbo war #Goddamn I love flyboys #this was better than BOB for me

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ereardon · 4 months ago

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mccall-muffin · 11 months ago

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The Lady and the Major - Part 2/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Bucky quickly realizes that Liz is not like any woman he has ever met before. But there is still a war to win, and Bucky has his duties. So, every letter that arrives is a prized possession now.

Warnings: Language, teasing, kissing, sex (not too detailed)

A/N: So, here is part 2 for you. And yes, by now I've seen all the Episodes that are out as of now - so I'm up to date ;)

Here is my Masterlist

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

As the band transitions smoothly into a slow, captivating melody, the atmosphere of the gala shifts, becoming charged with a different kind of energy. Bucky, seizing the moment, sets aside the formalities with the ease of a man used to taking the lead. He gently takes Liz's champagne flute, placing it on a nearby table with a confident grin. "Care to dance, Lady Cavendish?" he asks, extending his hand, his eyes sparkling with an invitation to step into a moment just for the two of them.

On the dance floor, Bucky guides Liz with a practiced ease, pulling her close enough that their conversation remains private, a bubble amidst the sea of dancing couples. His hands are respectfully placed, yet the occasional, deliberate brush of his fingers along her back suggests a familiarity that goes beyond mere dance partners.

As they move to the rhythm of the music, Bucky can't resist the opportunity to delve deeper into the intriguing paradox that is Liz. "You know, I've been told quite a few tales about the elusive Lady Cavendish," he teases, his voice low and playful. "Word around is that beneath that veneer of the perfect highborn lady lies a spirit too wild to be tamed by society's chains."

Liz, unphased and quick to respond, tilts her head slightly, a challenge in her bright blue eyes. "And just what exactly have you heard, Major Egan?" she inquires, her voice a mix of curiosity and daring. "I'm quite intrigued to know what stories have made their way to your ears."

Their dance becomes a metaphor for their conversation—each step and turn a delicate balance between revealing too much and not enough. Bucky, navigating this dance of words as skillfully as he does the physical one, leans in, his breath a whisper against her ear. "I've heard that you're no stranger to bending the rules, that you find the conventional life of aristocracy stifling. That you've been known to disappear into the night on adventures that would make your family's esteemed guests blush," he whispers, each word carefully chosen to entice and probe.

Liz's reaction is a soft, genuine laugh, a sound that seems to momentarily lighten the weight of her title and societal expectations. "My, my, Major, such scandalous rumors," she retorts, her tone laced with amusement and a hint of defiance. "Let's just say I believe life is too short to be lived within the confines of what others deem acceptable. And perhaps, I do enjoy the thrill of the chase, the excitement of the unknown."

Their eyes lock, and in that moment, a silent understanding passes between them. Here, in the middle of the dance floor, they've managed to peel back another layer of the intrigue that surrounds their budding relationship. Bucky, drawn to the fire he sees burning behind Liz's poised exterior, finds himself more captivated than ever, eager to discover what other secrets lie hidden beneath her aristocratic facade.

As the song comes to an end, they remain momentarily in each other's arms, the last notes fading into the background. This dance, both literal and metaphorical, has drawn them closer, weaving their stories together in a way that neither had anticipated. And as they step back, rejoining the world around them, it's clear that this evening has only served to deepen the intrigue and attraction that pulses between them.

Liz's invitation to step outside carries an undertone of challenge, a silent test of Bucky's willingness to navigate the complexities of her world. He accepts with a nod, the unspoken communication between them sparking with anticipation. However, as they make their way toward the grand doors leading to the estate's gardens, they are intercepted by none other than the Duke and Duchess of Wellington themselves.

With hardly a moment to prepare, Liz leans in, her voice a hurried whisper, instructing Bucky on the proper etiquette for addressing her parents. "Remember, it's 'Your Grace' for both of them," she murmurs, her tone urgent yet composed. Bucky, despite the sudden shift in situation, nods his understanding, a quick study in the art of aristocratic manners.

The Duke, a figure of imposing stature and dignity, eyes Bucky with a mix of curiosity and the guarded warmth of a father protective of his daughter. "And who might this be, Elizabeth?" he inquires, his voice carrying the weight of authority and expectation.

Liz, ever the adept navigator of her family's expectations, steps in smoothly. "Father, Mother, this is Major John Egan of the US Air Force. We met recently at a charity event where Major Egan was sharing some of his experiences from the war. His stories were quite enlightening," she explains, echoing the innocent tale she'd spun for her brother.

The Duchess offers Bucky a polite smile, but it's the Duke's reaction that holds the room in suspense. After a moment's evaluation, his expression softens, a nod of approval directed at Bucky. "A pilot, you say? Well, that's commendable. Our Edward has told us much about the bravery required in such a role," he says, his voice revealing a hint of the pride he holds for his son's achievements.

Bucky, sensing the importance of this moment, responds with the respect and humility befitting the situation. "Your Grace, it's an honor to serve. And it's been a privilege to share some of my experiences with those who understand the sacrifices made in the skies," he replies, his tone sincere.

The Duke nods, seemingly impressed by Bucky's demeanor and the shared bond of aerial combat. "Well, Major Egan, it's a pleasure to have you among us tonight. The bravery of you and your comrades in the Air Force is something we hold in high regard," he states, extending a hand in a gesture of respect and acceptance.

With the formal introductions made and the Duke's approval subtly given, Liz and Bucky are allowed to continue on their way, stepping out into the cool evening air. The brief encounter with her parents was a test, one that Bucky passed with the grace of a man who, despite his unorthodox entry into their world, understands the value of respect and common ground.

As they move away from the light and music spilling out from the mansion, the night around them feels charged with a new energy. Liz's challenge, Bucky's acceptance, and the unexpected approval of her father have all conspired to deepen the connection between them, setting the stage for whatever comes next under the starlit sky.

As they stand together on the balcony, the cool night air mingling with the tension of their conversation, Bucky watches Liz closely.

"You know why I turned them all down? All those ass-kissers of earls, viscounts, and so on who threw themselves at me?"

Her confession hangs between them, a raw and honest revelation that strips away the layers of aristocracy and high society, revealing the woman beneath. He's moved by her vulnerability, by the glimpse she's offered into the gilded cage that is her life.

"Why turn them all down, Liz?" Bucky prompts gently, already suspecting the answer but needing to hear it in her own words.

Liz's gaze meets his, steady and resolute. "Because marrying one of them would seal my fate. I'd be trapped in this world, expected to play the perfect wife, the dutiful daughter, forever," she confesses, her voice laced with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "I want more than what's expected of me, more than this life can offer."

Bucky's respect for her deepens in this moment, his initial attraction evolving into something more profound. He sees her not just as a challenge or a conquest but as a fellow soul seeking freedom from the confines of their respective worlds.

"And inviting me here tonight?" Bucky asks, the pieces falling into place. "Was that your way of rebelling against all this?" There's a note of understanding in his voice, a recognition of her courage in the face of stifling expectations.

Liz nods a small but significant gesture. "You're... different, Bucky. You don't belong to this world, and yet, you stood your ground. That confidence, that defiance—I wanted that for myself, even if just for a night," she admits, her eyes not leaving his.

Bucky steps closer, closing the distance between them, moved by her honesty. "Liz, I may not know all the rules of your world, but I do know about feeling trapped," he shares, his voice soft but firm. "If you're looking for a bit of freedom, even for just one night, then I say we take it. No expectations, no strings. Just two people enjoying the moment for what it is."

Liz's response is a smile, one that reaches her eyes and lights up the night. It's a smile of relief, of gratitude, of a burden momentarily lifted. "I'd like that, Bucky. More than you know," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

As they stand there, two figures against the backdrop of a world that demands so much from them, they find solace in each other's company. For Liz, Bucky represents a breath of fresh air, a chance to experience life unfiltered by the expectations of her status. And for Bucky, Liz is no longer just the enigmatic aristocrat but a woman of depth and courage, fighting for her own identity.

In the moment their lips meet, the world around them—the chatter of the gala, the soft rustle of the night breeze, the distant melodies spilling out from the ballroom—fades into insignificance. Bucky, taken aback by the intensity of the kiss, finds himself caught in the current of Liz's boldness and expertise. Her playful bite, the confident dance of her tongue, signals a depth of experience that both surprises and entices him.

As Liz wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the connection deepens, their bodies speaking a language of their own making. Bucky's hands, resting initially at her waist, venture slightly lower, his touch light but daring over the fabric of her dress, a silent exploration of the territory between propriety and desire.

When they finally part, the look Liz gives Bucky is one of playful challenge, a silent dare that speaks volumes. Her wink, a spark of mischief and promise, leaves him momentarily stunned, a statue on the balcony as she turns to make her way back inside. Yet, the invitation in her glance, the unspoken command to follow, ignites a fire within him.

Liz's graceful navigation through the gala's attendees, each step a tantalizing lure, leads Bucky on a path he knows is fraught with both risk and exhilaration. As she ascends the staircase, her silhouette a beacon in the sea of guests, Bucky's decision to follow feels not like a choice but a necessity, a call to adventure too compelling to resist.

The journey to her quarters, a silent procession through the dimly lit corridors of Wellington House, is charged with anticipation. Bucky, aware of the boldness of this pursuit, understands the unspoken rules of the game they're playing. This isn't just a physical attraction; it's a mutual rebellion against the confines of their respective worlds, a shared quest for authenticity and freedom.

As he follows, maintaining a discreet distance to avoid drawing attention, Bucky realizes that this night, this moment, could redefine the course of their acquaintance. Liz, with her daring and defiance, has challenged him to step beyond the bounds of his own experience, to engage in a dance as risky as it is irresistible.

The decision to pursue Liz, to accept her silent invitation, marks a turning point. It's a step into the unknown, a gamble on the promise of something profound. In this game of hearts and wills, where every gesture is laden with meaning, Bucky and Liz find themselves on the brink of a discovery that could either shatter the world they know or forge a new path forward, together.

As the door closes behind Bucky, marking their entry into a realm removed from the eyes of the world, the air between him and Liz becomes charged with an undeniable intensity. What unfolds is a dance of two souls, a private exchange of affection and connection that transcends the physical space they occupy.

In the seclusion of Liz's quarters, away from the rigid expectations of their external lives, they find a freedom and a fervor that is as much about rebellion as it is about attraction. The room, with its soft lighting and the distant sound of the gala continuing below, serves as a backdrop to a moment of vulnerability and honesty.

The exchange of kisses and the exploration of touch speaks to a deep-seated desire for authenticity and understanding. It's a conversation without words, a dialogue where every gesture, every breath, carries the weight of unspoken dreams and desires.

As garments become mere whispers on the floor, the world outside, with its rules and roles, fades into insignificance. What matters in this secluded space is the connection that thrives in the absence of pretense, a bond forged not just in the heat of the moment but in the shared recognition of each other's true selves.

The rustling of bedding, the soft sighs, and the gentle caresses are chapters in a story that is theirs alone—a tale of discovery, of the courage to seek out the spaces where they can be unapologetically themselves. In the quiet aftermath, as they lie entwined, the significance of this encounter is palpable. It's a promise of possibility, a testament to the power of finding someone who sees beyond the facade to the person beneath.

This night, in the privacy of Liz's quarters, is a declaration of their mutual defiance against the constraints of their worlds. It's an acknowledgment that, despite the challenges that lie ahead, they have found in each other a rare and precious solace, a sanctuary where they can explore the depths of their connection away from prying eyes.

As dawn threatens to reclaim the night, the reality of their respective lives looms large. Yet, in this moment, they are grounded in the profound realization that what they have discovered in each other is a strength, a partnership that might just have the power to redefine their destinies.

Two weeks have passed since Bucky's return from London to the base, and the changes in him haven't gone unnoticed by those closest to him. Gone is the relentless flirt, replaced by a man who seems preoccupied, his attention drawn inward. Buck Cleven, ever the observant friend, can't help but notice the shift, especially in light of the increasing pile of correspondence that seems to capture Bucky's focus each morning.

This particular morning, Bucky is more animated than usual, a smile playing on his lips as he carefully unfolds a letter. Buck, curious and a bit concerned, nudges him. "Who's got you smiling like that, huh? Someone special?" he teases, trying to catch a glimpse of the sender.

Bucky hesitates, a brief struggle visible in his demeanor before he decides to share the letter with Buck. It reads:

Dear Major Egan,

I hope this letter finds you wallowing in the misery of our separation, desperately missing my company. I regret to inform you that I've taken up with a prince, a real one this time, who showers me with the adoration and luxuries befitting a lady of my stature. So, it seems our little dalliance must come to an end.

Please, don't despair too much. I'm sure you'll find a way to mend your broken heart, perhaps with one of those American heiresses desperate for a title, or maybe with a nice farm girl? Someone who can appreciate your... what was it you do again? Oh, right, flying planes.

Do not fret, dear Major. You will always hold a special place in my heart, somewhere between my love for my horse and my tolerance for my brother's tedious war stories.

With all the affection I can muster (which, as you know, is quite limited),

Liz

P.S. I've included a photograph, as you so tiresomely begged for one. Please try not to wear it out with your ogling. I expect it back in pristine condition, or you shall owe me a new one.

Tucked within the letter is a photograph of Liz. The image captures her essence perfectly—beautiful, aristocratic, and brimming with the sly humor that Bucky has grown so fond of.

Buck, reading over Bucky's shoulder, lets out a laugh. "She's got you on a string, hasn't she?" he chuckles, handing back the letter. "You've got good taste, I'll give you that."

Bucky, looking at the photo once more, can't help but laugh as well. He can almost hear Liz's voice as she penned the letter, her teasing tone, the twinkle in her eye as she crafted each sarcastic remark. It's a comfort, a tangible connection to the woman who's managed to upend his world and settle under his skin.

"She's one of a kind," Bucky admits, a warmth in his voice that speaks volumes. Folding the letter and slipping the photo into his pocket, he feels a renewed sense of determination. Whatever it takes, he knows he has to see her again, to bridge the distance the war has placed between them. Liz might tease, might play her games, but beneath the sarcasm and jests lies a connection neither can deny, a story far from over.

Buck watches Bucky with an incredulous look. "Alright, spill it, Egan. Who's the dame that's got you all twisted up? I never thought I'd see the day when John Egan, the lady-killer, would be mooning over some broad," he teases, the smoke curling up into the air between them.

Bucky, feeling a mix of defensiveness and pride, takes a moment before he responds, choosing his words with care. "Her name's Liz," he starts, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile at the mere mention of her name. "Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, if you want to get all formal about it. Met her in London. She's... different, Buck. Not like anyone I've ever met before."

Buck raises an eyebrow, taking a long drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash off to the side. "Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, huh? Sounds like a real high-class bird. Got you good and proper, didn't she?" he chuckles, the humor not quite masking the genuine curiosity in his tone.

Bucky can't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, she did. But it's not like that. She's sharp, Buck. Got a wit that could cut glass and a spirit that's just... infectious. And she doesn't give a damn about all that high-society bullshit. She's trapped in it, sure, but she's fighting it every step of the way."

The more Bucky talks about Liz, the more animated he becomes, his usual reserve giving way to a barely contained enthusiasm. It's clear to Buck that this isn't just some fling or a passing fancy. Liz has managed to break through Bucky's well-guarded exterior, touching a part of him that perhaps even he hadn't realized was there.

Buck, sensing the depth of Bucky's feelings, nods slowly, a new respect in his gaze. "Sounds like a real peach, John. A dame like that, yeah, I can see why you'd be hung up on her." He takes another puff of his cigarette, his expression thoughtful. "Just be careful, alright? These broads from the other side of the pond, they play a different game. But if she's got you willing to jump through hoops, she must be something special."

Bucky's response is a simple nod, his mind already drifting back to Liz, to the memories of their time together and the anticipation of what might come next. The conversation shifts as they move on to other topics, but for Bucky, Liz remains a constant presence, her image, her words, a steady pulse beneath the surface of his thoughts.

In the barracks filled with the coarse banter of soldiers, the smoke of cigarettes hanging heavy in the air, Bucky finds himself in a world apart, his heart anchored across the ocean, tethered to the enigmatic Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, who's managed to do the unthinkable—capture the heart of Major John Egan.

As the morning light spills into Liz's room, illuminating the delicate furnishings and the soft, luxurious bedding she's entangled in, her initial irritation at being awakened fades the moment Mrs. Baxter mentions the letter. Liz's eyes, still heavy with sleep, light up with anticipation, a rare show of eagerness that Mrs. Baxter notes with a soft, knowing smile.

"Seems like your American soldier can't quite keep you off his mind, my lady," Mrs. Baxter says, her tone playful yet respectful, as she hands over the letter to Liz.

Grasping the letter, Liz's usual morning grumpiness is replaced by a flutter of excitement. She carefully opens the envelope, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The letter reads:

My Dearest Liz,

Hoping this note finds you shining bright over there. I gotta say, even the best days in Thorpe Abbotts don’t hold a candle to you. Your last letter? A real knockout. It was like a splash of color on a dreary English day, and let me tell you, that’s saying something.

You teasing about ditching this budding thing we got for some high-and-mighty life with the blue bloods almost had me. But behind all that sass, I know there’s a warmth that keeps me going, has me lying awake thinking about you.

That picture you sent is my new prized possession. Seriously, it’s with me everywhere. Every time I look at it, I see that spark in your eyes, that smile of yours, and it hits me hard—how much you’ve come to mean to me.

Even though we’re worlds apart, you’re always on my mind. The thought of seeing you again is the light at the end of this tunnel. I’m holding onto the hope that this mess of a war gives us a break soon, so I can be back by your side, soaking in your glow.

Till then, just know I’m here, waiting and hoping.

Always yours, Bucky

Liz reads the letter, a smile playing on her lips, touched by Bucky's words that manage to be both teasing and heartfelt. The sincerity in his tone, the open declaration of his affection, strikes a chord deep within her, warming her more than the morning sun ever could.

Mrs. Baxter, observing Liz's softened expression, can't help but comment, "Seems like the Major has a way with words, my lady."

Liz, looking up from the letter, meets Mrs. Baxter's gaze, her smile widening. "Indeed, he does, Mrs. Baxter. Indeed, he does," she replies, her mind already racing with thoughts of how to respond, how to match Bucky's blend of humor and sincerity in her next letter.

For a moment, the challenges and restrictions of her world seem distant, as Liz allows herself to be carried away by the promise of what's to come, buoyed by the words of a man who, despite the chaos of war, has become an anchor in her tumultuous life.

What she doesn't know is that soon everything will change.

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#Masters of the Air #MoaT #John Egan x OC #Bucky Egan x OC #John Egan x reader #Bucky Egan x reader #John Bucky Egan #BoB #Callum Turner #Sorry not sorry

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