#buck and bucky ;_;

[majoregan]

Just MOTA boys (mostly Croz and Bucky, my lil yappers) with some of my favorite tweets.

[jointherebellion215]

Birdie

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: A rare night out in London has Bucky coming to terms with his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: mechanic!reader, songbird!reader, female!reader, she/her pronouns used, drinking culture, cursing, mutual pining, moderate bouts of denial, insecurities, women supporting women because it's what we deserve, let's pretend that The Old Therebefore is an ancient Appalachian folk song in this universe, maybe she's a Mary Sue idgaf, I just wanted to write something happy so LET ME LIVE, WWII era, there's no Y/N but reader has the nickname "Birdie"

A/N: Yeah, I'm obsessed with Masters of the Air. I had to write something for my mans before the creative procrastination literally killed me. Please leave a like, comment, or even a reblog if you're so inclined :)

You can read my OC version of this story on AO3!

Songs Mentioned in This Fic:

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters

G.I. Jive by Johnny Mercer

The Ole Therebefore (Accapella) by Rachel Zegler

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, don't copy my writing without explicit permission. That includes you, you AI sonuvabitch.

Your heels clicked on the cobblestone streets, turning into the pub you’d heard so much about. You were out celebrating a very rare weekend off. The Brass had somehow allowed you and twenty other mechanics from base two days leave, so you took advantage of the opportunity and headed straight to London.

Your two best girlfriends from base were with you. Teresa was one of the toughest nurses you’d ever come across. She could give you a wide grin, crinkles around her hazel eyes, and reset a broken bone without breaking a sweat. It helps that she was already working towards becoming a nurse back in New Mexico, the war just sped along that process. You had bonded over your love of books, giving each other recommendations almost weekly.

You’d met Irene on the boat to England. She puked on your shoes almost thirty minutes exactly after leaving the port in New York. You gave a small grin, offering her a handkerchief and a piece of ginger candy and the rest was history. Finding out that she was a fellow mechanic was the icing on the cake. Coming in at a whopping five foot two, the spritely blonde could easily be found in a crowd with her loud Appalachian accent.

It seemed almost like fate for the three of you to have found each other. Being some of the few women on base naturally made you close, but you were closer with Irene and Teresa than any of the others. That’s not to say that you weren’t friends with any of the men, because you were. Friendly. 

All three of you were dressed to the nines, in contradiction to your everyday work wear. You all got ready together in your hotel room, giggling while you applied makeup here, spritzed some perfume there. You all felt confident and were ready to have a good time. You spotted some familiar faces and made your way over towards them, your friends linked arm-in-arm with you. Lemmons was the first to greet you.

Of the fifty men on the ground crew, Sgt. Ken Lemmons was the most welcoming of them all. From the get-go, he didn’t care if you were a man or woman. He just wanted to know that you were capable. You were sure he had to go through some hazing because of his age, which probably changed his perspective on gatekeeping the job. This made earning and maintaining respect a lot easier for the women on your crew. We all came over with the same goal, it was better for all if we just helped each other out.

“Hey Birdie! Nice to see you out and about.”

Ah, the famed nickname. You tend to hum and sing under your breath when elbow-deep in a project. It helps you pass the time and clear your mind. Of course, the rest of the ground crew quickly caught on to this habit of yours, which quickly earned you the nickname “Birdie”. You, of course, never sing solo in public, so this confuses anyone who’s not around you while you’re working. But the name stuck, so here you are. Birdie.

Chairs are quickly cleared for you and your friends, which you all graciously take. You go up to buy some drinks, knowing what your friends like, and quickly return with your drinks of choice. Conversation flows, laughs are shared, and a few drinking games are played over the next hours. Teresa soon speaks up on a topic you’d been hoping to avoid.

“Do you think he’ll be here tonight?”

You shrug and look into your drink, “Dunno. Why does it matter?”

Irene, the ever supportive best friend that she is, backs up Teresa. “What do you mean ‘why’? This is your chance to finally make a move!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly deny, taking another sip.

An unladylike snort leaves Irene, “My ass! You and Major Egan have been making googly eyes at each other when you think the other’s not looking for months. I’m saying it’s time for you to perk your tits up, buck on over and ride that—!�� You slam your drink on the table, pressing your hand over Irene’s mouth, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Are you insane?” You whisper harshly, looking around to make sure no one overheard you. You seem to be in the clear, which makes you calm down a bit. Irene pushes off your hand, takes a swig of her drink, and consults the person who started this whole conversation.

“Am I wrong?” You look to Teresa, who cringes slightly in agreement.

You gape at the pair of them. Normally, you were the median between the two girls who had vastly differing opinions. But this is what made them come to a consensus? Unbelievable.

“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to.” You start, which makes your friends nod encouragingly at you. “It’s just that… Is he really as interested as you think he is?”

They both groan and slump against each other, like they’d just run a marathon. Teresa sits up, scooching your chair in closer so that the three of you were in a private triangle, cut off from the rest of the group.

“Let’s look at the facts here, okay?” Teresa starts to tick off a finger with each point she and Irene make. But you seem to always have a rebuttal at the ready.

“He brings you coffee every morning.”

“I thought he does that for everyone.”

“He constantly fixes his hair when you’re around.”

“He takes care of his appearance!”

“He walks you to the mess hall every day for dinner.”

“We just happen to be going the same way. And we happen to have the same dinner schedule.”

“He read The Hobbit when you said how much you loved it.”

“He’s an adventurous guy, it’s an adventurous book, what’s not to like about it?”

“You two literally will walk and talk outside alone for hours.”

“A man can’t have a stimulating conversation with a woman?”

“He laughs at all your dumb jokes.”

“Hey! They’re not all dumb. Like, the one with the goose and the—”

“Point proven. Anyways! He has your picture in the inside pocket of his jacket.”

That one stops you in your tracks. You brain tries to justify this meaning but comes up blank.

“He…” You struggle with an excuse. “He…” Your best friends give victorious smirks in your direction.

“He… likes the extra padding in his jacket?” You stutter over what is possibly the most pathetic, sorry excuse you could have ever come up with.

“When are you gonna admit to yourself that he likes you? Like, actually truly likes you?” 

You gave a sad sigh, letting the insecurity you were feeling deep down come to the surface. “I just… He’s just so…” You had stomped down your feelings for so long that it was becoming hard to articulate what exactly you’re feeling.

“He just seems so unreal. Like, of everyone he could have chosen, why me? I mean, I know I’m great. But you’ve seen the other girls on base. They’re all so beautiful, smart, classy… and none of them are covered in engine oil ninety percent of the time.” You looked down at your hands, specks of grease and oil peeking out from beneath your nail beds. It seems like it would never completely wash out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You hadn’t even painted your nails for this weekend, knowing it would be money wasted come Monday morning when you’re back on the clock.

Teresa and Irene share a look that you don’t see, then come forward and grab each of your hands. 

“The words you just used to describe those girls. All of that is you, Birdie. That and more. You being a mechanic doesn’t make you any less of a woman, and to hell with anyone else who thinks otherwise.”  You nodded in agreement, Irene’s words of encouragement slowly washing away your anxieties.

Teresa spoke up next, “You deserve someone who will rearrange the stars and the whole night sky for you. And I’m more than willing to bet that Major Egan is up for the job.” 

“Besides, none of that 'unreal' stuff. At the end of the day, John Egan is nothing more than a man. If he can’t look past his nose and his d—" You gave a squeak to cover up the vulgar word Irene was about to blurt in public. She rolled her eyes fondly and continued.

“If he can’t see what you’re worth and make the effort to treat you a hundred times better than that? That’s on him. Not you. You know what you deserve, and you deserve everything you want. Absolutely everything.”

You sniffed, happy tears coming to your eyes. You brought your best friends in for a hug, thanking them profusely. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Teresa grins into your shoulder “every girl needs to be pulled out of her well sometime.”

You pull back from the hug, grabbing your glass and tipping your head back, finishing the rest of your drink. “Even if he’s not gonna be here, let’s have a ball!” Your girlfriends cheer as the three of you go to the bar for refills.

One drink turns into two, which turns into a few more, and suddenly you’re buzzed. Your group are having a rambunctious time, Irene dancing by the local piano player. Once Irene looks over to you, she stops and whispers in the player’s ear. He nods, then starts a new tune. Irene starts up her voice, walking over to you and Teresa, encouraging you to join her. 

The alcohol has loosened you up enough that you don’t feel the nausea you usually associate with being perceived, so you join in the harmonies you and your friends have practiced in your bunks at night.

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

Soon the whole pub was jumping and dancing along to the tune as you brought a new vibe to the pub. It was like a spark that started an entirely new night and everyone was eager to go on forever.

One song turns into an entire set, which ends with a full rendition of G.I. Jive, which had everyone singing along. It was a magical moment; made you feel like you were a part of something important.

Irene sidles up to you, giving you a hug. She says in your ear,

“I think it’s time to slow it down a bit. How about you sing that song I taught you.”

She means an old Appalachian folk song that’s been in her family for generations. You had heard her sing it one night and immediately loved the dark, but strong nature of the lyrics. It was an honor to learn it from her. 

“I don’t know, it’s your family’s song and…”

“And I can’t think of anyone better to sing it to these soldiers.” You gave each other a look, her slight eyebrow raise gave you the courage to nod in acceptance. She smiled, hugging you again, her voice yelled out to the crowd. 

“Birdie’s gonna sing solo!”

The announcement is met with raucous applause, Irene and Teresa shoving you towards a dodgy looking table. Crank offers a hand up, which you take gratefully. As you find your bearings on the tabletop, you quickly spin around and find all eyes on you. 

The crackling energy in the air seemed to simmer, the fast-beating hearts of the pubgoers recognizing a moment to acknowledge you. Nausea starts to make an appearance, but a deep breath quells the sensation within you for the time being.

You take another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You close your eyes, open your mouth, and sing.

Meanwhile…. 

Majors Gale Cleven and John Egan walk down the familiar street, one eager to catch up with his fellow countrymen’s alcohol intake, the other just happy to spend time with his friends. They were arriving later to the festivities due to being caught up in filling out reports. By far the worst part of having a higher rank was the paperwork.

“It’s pretty quiet.” Buck acknowledges. “They’re usually rowdier by this point.”

Bucky sniffs, shrugging off the concern. “Ah, it’s probably nothing.” 

As the two men approach the pub, they find that a crowd has formed. Soldiers, civilians, RAF, USAAF, old, young— people had obviously stopped to watch whatever was going on. It was dead silent, save for a voice singing. Was there a radio show on or something?

A familiar face peeks out at them from the crowd, DeMarco quickly waving them over. 

Bucky is quick to question, “Hey, what’s going on?” but is immediately shushed by nearby crowd members. Buck cringes in apology, despite not being the one to disturb the peace. His best friend, ever unshaken by the opinion of strangers, carries on.

DeMarco leans in, whispering, “Your girl’s taking us all to church.”

“My girl..?” Bucky’s nose scrunches in confusion. He makes space through the crowd and quickly makes sense of DeMarco’s words. It was you.

I’ll catch you up

When I’ve emptied my cup

When I’ve worn out my friends

When I’ve burned out both ends

Standing on a tabletop, watchful eyes sat all around you like baby ducks flocking to their mama. You were captivating everyone with each note and word that flows from your mouth. Damn, you've got a set of pipes— a voice that belongs on the radio, in concert halls, on Hollywood records. He had no idea.

His little Birdie.

“Wow.” Buck mutters in awe from behind him, and Bucky couldn’t be more in agreement.

When I’m pure like a dove

When I’ve learned how to love

He hadn’t noticed before, but her eyes were closed. Like she needed to concentrate on each and every breath she took, every single movement her body made, before letting them out in an angelic melody.

As if by divine intervention, her eyes pop open and lock on his as she belts “how to love” 

It could’ve been an eternity, for all he knows, the amount of time that they spent locked in each other’s gaze. The world pauses around them, everything frozen. Her eyes were already the kind to knock a man clean off his feet with a single gaze, but he thinks- for a brief moment- that his heart completely stops beating.

John Clarence Egan would swear every day from then on, until his dying breath, that the course of his life was altered in that very moment. He knew how it would continue from then on, and how it would end. How he wanted it to end.

Then the world starts back up and carries on.

Right here in the old therebefore

When nothing is left anymore

Her final hums are joined by a short blonde woman who stands nearby, another face he recognizes from base. 

The applause that picks up after the end of the song is near deafening. The star of the hour gives a shy smile, a quick curtsy and is given a hand to step down from the table.

Everyone soon starts mingling, the normal chatter of the bar returning. But Bucky is stuck in his spot, dumbfounded. In all the conversations you’d had together, somehow this never came up. He should’ve put two and two together, as he recalls overhearing your hums one morning as he made his daily coffee delivery to you. But you had been caught off guard, so much so that you tripped off the ladder you stood on and fell. Luckily, his quick reflexes kicked in to catch you before any serious injuries occurred. 

Remembering the sensation of his hands on your waist and thighs, face just inches from yours, sent his brain into a tailspin. That’s not even considering just how damn cute you were when, after a beat, you turned away from him and playfully mourned the cups of coffee that were splattered all over the hardstand.

“John. John?” A hand waving in front of his face knocks him out of his reverie. He blinks once, twice. Then looks to his best friend.

His voice comes out uncharacteristically weak in response, to which he then clears his throat and corrects. “Yes—yeah?” He pops the collar of his sheepskin jacket to try and hide the rampant red of his ears that signals the heat radiating from them.

Buck just shakes his head and gives him a knowing smile. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Egan. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“See what day?” Bucky starts to consciously return to his body, leaning on the bar.

“The day when a girl finally knocks you on your ass. I knew you had a thing for her, but that?” He points to his face and motions to indicate where they had just been standing. “That’s something else. That’s something real.”

Bucky gives another shrug in response, to which Buck throws back an unconvinced frown. He turns his head to gaze over the pub patrons and is distracted by you once again. Any denial he was about to spout immediately dies in his mouth when you lock eyes with him again and give him a dazzling smile. The world starts to fade away again.

His heart pumps faster in his chest at the sight. Damnit. He sighs, telling his best friend the truth he’s been privately wrestling with for a while now, all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

Bucky smiles back at you and is elated when your face lights up. You give him a wave.

“She kinda snuck up on me.”

[lambcow]

[yourspeirs]

Talk about being inseparable.

Both Nixon (Band of Brothers ep 10) and Bucky (Masters of the Air ep 7) asked Winters and Buck to come with them after the war. It's a bond that will never be broken. A life-time partner.

[mycleven]

A sweet distraction..

Summary • she has her husband back, for now at-least, but at what cost? he’s quieter, more reserved and running on his inability to shut off, to sleep. Maybe all he needs is a sweet little distraction from his dame, and the hands he’s oh so greatly missed..

warnings/info • brief mentions of war, ptsd, 18+, handjob, horrible writing yada yada

“tell me gale, is it a distraction you’re craving?”

One week.

One measly week is all she’d have with her man, her husband, a year spent away, a year of worrying and yet all she’d gotten was one week, it wasn’t out of good conscience that she was even given the privilege of seeing Gale again, instead it was a silent plea.

Sort your husband out.

She should’ve known better than to expect him to be the same as he was before all of this, before he was sent away and so awfully ripped out of her hands, out of her life.

There was so many tiny thing’s different with him now, from his sullen slightly sunken eyes, to the shakes in his hands when he thought she hadn’t noticed, those plump lips she loves so much bruised and bloodied from the no doubt constant biting of the man in his worry.

Even still, with all the new little changes to him she saw that he was still hers, still the Gale Cleven she married, and she wanted to do right by him, be a good pliant wife like she was yearning to be.

But how do you be pliant to a man who hasn’t been there? hasn’t asked it of you?

She was not going to watch her marriage get run down to shreds because she didn’t try, she was going to get through to her husband, one way or the other, because she knew he needed her, even if he was too damn proud to say it

“Gale?..” her voice is quiet in the darkness of the room, eyes squinting in an attempt to adjust from the sleep she just roused from at feeling the emptiness beside her, the absence of her warmth.

Satin is pulled over her bare body as she sits up fully, goosebumps scattering across her skin at the light breeze coming in from the slightly ajar balcony door and her lips almost twist up in a small grin.

Bingo.

Quietly she makes her way over, feet softly padding against the hardwood floor that looks like it could definitely do with a few more coats of polish, soft hand reaching out to pull the door just a little bit more open so she can step out, and when she does there he is..

“Gale?..” She whispers out “honey?” she’s a little apprehensive at going over, not knowing wether or not he’ll go into another episode like earlier, clutching at his chest as if all the air in the world had been sucked away.

His eyes are focused on the city below, and she wonders if maybe he has a guilty conscious at knowing he’s probably dropped a few dozen bombs on a city just like this one.

“Couldn’t sleep, wanted to get some air” his voice is quiet, so quiet she almost misses what he says.

“baby..” she sighs, coming a little closer and tentatively reaching out her hand to settle on his arm, not missing the way he slightly tenses as if he wasn’t expecting the soft touch.

What had they done to him?

“Did i wake you?” he mutters out, gaze glancing at her for just a split second before looking away again and she fights off the urge to sigh, shaking her head

“Your absence woke me” she hums, quiet.

“Why don’t you come back to bed?..”

He shakes his head, shoulders slumping a little as he sighs, eyes glancing back at her and she feels her heart break just a little more at the sight of his heavy, darkened eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep, ‘s too loud, too many sounds. Needed to get up and move around. Couldn’t stay still any longer.” this poor boy, she thinks, eyebrows scrunching up a little in dismay as she sighs softly.

“Please, let me help you Gale..”

“Come back to bed..” she speaks slowly, like that of a mother coaxing her child to eat a vegetable they don’t like.

There’s a resistance there, a part of him yearning for the rest that will eventually come to him if he lays down, but the stubborn part of him just wants to stay here, in the fresh air where his mind isn’t a muddled mess

“I can’t” he murmurs “i’ll keep you awake.”

“I don’t care” She’s quick with her answer, almost cutting him off as she speaks “I don’t care because i want to be laying in bed and i want my husband next to me, whatever it takes.”

His hesitation wavers one final time, the decision finally made.

“…Okay. I just…” *He starts, words trailing off as he pauses to take a breath, shaking his head “Thank you.”

With that he turns and heads back inside, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a heaving sigh. His shoulders slump, clearly defeated. She could tell he’s exhausted - he looks it, most importantly she can tell by the bags under his eyes - but he can’t sleep. He’s been unable to sleep for days now.

“You don’t need to thank me..” she airily chuckles just a little, following behind him and making sure to shut and lock the balcony door before padding over to him, perching herself up behind him

Her hands raise, settling on his tense shoulders as she begins to push lightly, deeply, thumbs circling over the tense muscles in an attempt to soothe him

He tenses a bit at first, the feeling almost foreign after so long, before he slowly relaxes into her touch with a weak sigh. His shoulders slumping and his head tilting forward as her gentle hands work the muscles of his upper back, the tension already easing out of him.

His breathing deepens a bit, the movements of her hands lulling him into a relaxed state. His eyes slowly close, body relaxing, muscles finally loosening up a bit. He just relaxes into her touch, not speaking for a while, seemingly enjoying the feel of her hands on him.

Oh, how he’s missed his wife.

“There we go..” she hums as she carries on, satisfied in herself at seeing how much he’s enjoying this, her head tipping down to press a few light kisses to his neck

She fights back the urge to grin In premature victory when his head tilts back onto her shoulder, perfect lips parted as soft groans leave his mouth

“keep doing that..” his voice, gravelly and deep has her stomach fluttering in want, jolts following down to her core as she hits a specific spot that has a loud moan tumbling from his lips

“Tell me gale..” she leans just a little to whisper in his ear “is it a distraction you’re craving?..”

“Marlene..”

“Major.”

“please.” his voice is so quiet, so unlike the confident man she’s known for many years, bedded for many years.

“Tell me what you want baby, i’ll give it to you.” she whispers

“anything, god-please Marlene.”

She’s quick in her movements, settling in front of him as she backs him up against the headboard, smiling a little at how comfortable he gets against the pillows, her beautiful beautiful man.

He lets her practically manhandle him, rather enjoying the attention from someone other than Bucky pulling him about and maybe leaving a lingering touch a few places for far too long, not that he doesn’t love ‘im, hell he’d probably have gone insane without Bucky around

But Bucky wasn’t Marlene.

“You’re so pretty..” he smiles a little at her, legs widening a little so she can comfortably sit between them, her hands drifting to settle on his thighs and fuck-he can feel his cock hardening embarrassingly quickly

“Thank you” she hums before quickly slotting her hands into the waistband of his boxer shorts, pulling them down and she can’t hide the grin that settles on her face when she catches sight of his cock standing at attention for her, all pretty and leaking.

She wastes no time bringing her hand up to her mouth, lightly spitting in it before bringing it down to his dick, hand softly wrapping around it before moving with a few teasing tugs

“Fuck-Marlene” he breathes

She moves a little faster this time, finding a rhythm as she rotates her wrist when she comes up to swipe her thumb against the slit of his cock, chuckling at how he keens and bucks against her hands, it’s quite humorous for her actually.

Buck is bucking into her hand.

“jesus christ.” she watches as his eyes roll to the back of his head and she can’t help but feel satisfied with herself, after all it seems she’s still got it, leaning forward she presses a few kisses to his jaw, not halting her hand for a second

“Marlene.”

“Gale..”

“Shit-‘m not gonna last long” he mutters, practically whining into her mouth and she follows up with a sweet kiss to his lips

speeding up her hand she relishes in the moans tumbling out of his mouth and into her own, a mantra of her name falling from his lips as he keens and writhers against her touch

“Such a good boy for me Gale..” she whispers and he whines, twitching into her hand pathetically

“Marlene-fuck I can’t-“

She doesn’t even get a word out before he’s spurting out onto her hand, thick ropes of white painting her supple skin and dripping onto her fresh manicure, she can’t find it in her to care, he looks so beautiful like this..

His hair a mess, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead clinging to a few strands of his blonde hair, eyes blown out but still drooping as he comes down, breath slightly heavy as his big hands come to paw at her sides

“Thank you, thank you..” he murmurs over and over into her lips and she smiles, kissing him sweetly before moving to clean up her hand, settling into bed with him as he shifts to pull up his boxer shorts again before perching his head onto her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

Oh god, how he had missed her.

well shit here’s my first ever fic on here! (I’m so scared) if it’s awful I apologise, i wrote this at 3am after randomly getting a surge for an idea while listening to Lana Del Rey, ha ha

[icarusfallingg]

Dropped from a burning plane in the middle of hostile land, running for days with barely any food. Getting captured, dragged through a broken apart city with his brothers in arms. Watching them all be beaten and shot, killed in a flurry of rage and grief by simple german citizens. Getting beaten bloody himself, thrown on a cart with the rest of those he travelled with to be buried in a mass grave. Escaping by a hair, only to be captured again and thrown in a musky cell with scratched out walls. Being interrogated and having to hold himself together at the idea of Gale being dead, and a simple German interrogator withholding the information of his safety from the tortured man.

Eventually being dragged to Stalag |||, already the shell of the man he once was.

Simple words, a simple call. One he would have been so familiar with, especially from that voice. And yet, as he walked through the gates into the stalag he had never felt happier hearing them

“John Egan! Your two o’clock”

Etched on the inside of his eyelids was those words, Bucks expression, the feeling of his warm embrace in the cabin afterwards. In that moment, Bucky couldn’t have; wouldn’t have felt any better.

In moments alone, he would remind Gale of the moment. ‘Best moment of my life’ he would say, even after they had settled into eachothers embrace properly; firmly.

To Bucky, Gale meant the whole world. That day, seeing his friends? Wonderful. But the moment he heard the familiar husk and western drawl; the moment he turned to meet the familiar blue eyes that often haunted his dreams he knew he would never feel better.

He fell after that, but he fell because he knew his Buck was there to catch him, to stifle his fall. The entire time they were pulled apart from each other Bucky had to hold himself together with the fragile memories of fleeting moments spent together in the dead of night. Secrets whispered to each other in their barracks.

Bucky was a shell, held together by tape weaved by the careful hands of Gale W. Cleven, the tape proved fragile when touched by those same hands but to be fixed, and restored sometimes you must break wholly and entirely in order to return to what you once were, even if it’s a mere reflection of it.

There was countless things against the men; laws, war, distance, jobs, a fence put up by senseless Germans, and yet Bucky knew he would push through anything in order to even have a chance to ask if he could hold Gale the way he held countless women

[fabiolajyx]

MASTERS OF THE AIR - S01E03

[lostinwd]

Gale sassy rocktar x John supportive bf

@ohboy609 on tik tok ✨

[homesickturner]

Homesick - Ch. 1

plot : childhood best friends Gracie and John are separated when join joins the war. Both are dealing with their own problems…will they cope with such distance between them. Most importantly, will the friendship (or more than..) stand the test of the war?

Dara speaks : hi hi! I’m overjoyed to finally be releasing this first chapter 🥹 I just could not keep these two to myself anymore 🫶 pls comment if you enjoy…any constructive criticism is welcome also. My asks box is wide open for any and all thoughts you have after reading this chapter so please send them my way !! The idea for this series came to me while listening to my favorite song ever homesick by dua lipa…give it a listen if you have not it’s too good!

warning : will be historically inaccurate at times for the sake of storytelling. Mentions of anxiety.

Gracie and John grew up together. Their parents often say that it was not often throughout their lives that one was seen without the other. Once they reached hugh school, things certainly changed although they still remained very close.

Gracie has been an exceptional student for all her young life and had future hopes of become a nurse. John and Gracie spoke often of their future plans and although there was a chance they may end up hours and hours from each other they knew they would be alright.

“So John,” Gracie spoke up, John sitting opposite her at the dinner table at her home. “I was thinking of doing some traveling before I head to Washington in the fall…where is it that you confirmed again?.”

“Gracie-.”

“Don’t worry though it’ll be way before college so we’ll have time to work and-.”

“I’m joining the air corps,” he blurted out, setting his knife and fork down.”

“You’re…what. John you’re going off to the war and you didn’t mention it.”

“No Gracie because I knew how worried you’d be-.”

“Damn right John.” She shot back, a hurt expression clouding her face. The girl was lost for words. “I’m coming with you-.”

“Like hell you are,” he scoffed. “Quit talking crap Gracie.”

“John! I was going to be a nurse anyway at least this way I’d be helping.” She pleaded.

“Gracie..you don’t want to see what some of the nurses do in the war,” John said softly. “You have so much going for you, go to college and have fun-.”

“While you’re getting shot down out of your fucking plane John!.” She shouted back at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Grace I’ll be ‘aright. I’m not letting you throw your future away for me…for this stupid war.” He insisted.

“John you’re my best friend. I can’t let you go out there.” She stood from the table and began pacing the small dining room. “If I do, I’d bet money that there’ll be a letter landing on my lap in Washington in a few months because you’ll-.”

“Gracie,” he yelled, strolling to where she was in front of him and laying both hands firmly on her shoulders. “Please…you’re breaking my heart. You gotta let me go.” He choked out, getting the slightest bit emotional seeing her eyes filled with tears.

Gracie felt like the life she’d planned had been ripped from beneath her. Some may say, she indeed had the world at her feet, everything was in her favor. Her family were wealthy, she had friends and she was headed to one of the top nursing programs in the country. Gracie never in a million years expected to hear that news from John. She was so crushed, so angry that this war was going to take away her favorite person from her and maybe never give him back. Gracie knew that boy better than she knew herself, so she knew that there was no changing his mind.

Although she was deeply upset, she knew John and had every belief he was doing this for the right reasons. Gracie knew that John had a big heart and truly just wanted to do what he could in such a horrific situation.

She wished she could be mature and think clearly about the situation. At the end of the day, Gracie was 18 years old and about to potentially loose her best friend to this war. So, she certainly was not thinking clearly.

As much as Gracie tried to persuade him, John’s decision was made. One week later he and Gracie stood at the Wisconsin harbor to say their goodbyes.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispered quietly into this ear, both her arms wrapped around his neck. “I can’t loose you Johnny…you’re my other half.”

Gracie couldn’t believe John was finally leaving her. She wasn’t sure she could live without him. Unfortunately for her, she was about to find out.

“It’ll be alright Gracie, I promise you. Just trust me alright?,” he muttered to her softly, he hands rubbed her back slowly.

John knew no matter what he told her, she’d worry. He knew that they were two halves of the same coin, and they balanced each other out perfectly. John brought out her wild side and Gracie kept John’s feet on the ground when he got overexcited. They certainly brought out the best in each other.

He might have been going off to war, but the only thing he was worried about was how Gracie would cope when he was gone. She’d always been an anxious girl, and it has only worsened in her late teens. In recent years, her friends and family realized that it was only John who seemed to truly help her. They would watch the nerves and worry melt off her face and her body relax when John and Gracie were in company togther. When she was with him, it was as if all the voices in her head were quieted and she felt herself again. John could only hope a constant stream of encouraging letters would keep his Grace happy.

As they broke apart John kept his hands on her shoulders. The two kept their eyes locked for a few moments, the words that were not said danced in the air between them. The moment neither of them ever thought would come had finally arrived.

Gracie watched as John turned and slowly began to walk away from her, and into the unknown. Right before boarding the boat, he turned to her once more as she called out to him.

“John?,” she asked. “Yeah Gracie?,” he called back, a small smile forming on this lips. “

“Please take care of yourself Johnny….and I’ll be waiting for my letters.” John could see her eyes lighting up as she shouted out to him.

“I will Grace, I promise I will. You’ll have plenty of letters don’t you worry.”

Gracie watched as her best friend boarded the boat. Moments later he appeared on the top deck, finding himself a spot next to the railing and stood waving to Gracie. A smile graced her lips as she watched him waving to her, and she would laugh when every so often he would do a salute. John noticed these laughs, and did them twice as much when he noticed she enjoyed them.

Gracie’s heart broke as she watched the boat sail away slowly. She stood and waved the John until she couldn’t see him anymore. Once the boat had sailed far enough, she let some tears finally fall down her cheeks.

[starsandstars]

Now why arent Buck and Bucky ever flying in one fort when Bucky is usually a copilot sitting on the right. Was there a time when they used to fly together but had to be separated like two naughty boys sitting together at school. Or are they too distracted together. Questions, so many questions.

[majoregan]

Masters of the Air icons pack

my other icons (1)

[popcornatmidnight]

buck and bobby - fix you edit

the way i actually got so emotional while making this. anyway,, here is me taking the lack of buck and bobby edits online personally. yet again.

"you were still bobby actually."

"so basically, you were buck."

they literally saved each other by just being themselves!!!! my favourite father-son duo, i love them so much 😭

[thatssomedamage]

Nurse he’s out again

(from my bikeriders au that’s actually set in Berlin cause I make the rules)

[hopelessromantic5]

I thought it would be fitting to post a sick-fic snippet, considering the upper-respiratory infection I’ve had for the past week has been kicking my ass.

So this is a little Bucky taking care of sick Buck fic.

Thank you for reading.

Gale went to sleep at Thorpe Abbots.

When his eyes shot open, he was in complete darkness. The only sounds in the room were the soft even breaths of his fellow officers.

Something was balled up in Gale’s stomach. This must’ve been what woke him.

God he hadn’t felt real nausea like this since he was a kid.

It’s alright. He tells himself. Just lie still and it will go away. Just calm down. Breathe, in and out. Calm yourself. It’s fine. It’ll go away.

Another roll of pain and discomfort had him up on his feet and bolting out the door before he could think twice.

He just made it outside behind the building before the contents of his stomach emptied into the grass.

Gale leaned against the bricks, heaving, tears streaming down his face.

God, how he hated it. The lack of control, the inability to stop it. Forced to endure until it’s over.

He felt himself drop to the ground, curling into his own body, trying to slow his breathing. Trying to get rid of that awful scratchy feeling in the back of his throat.

He blindly wiped at his face with the bottom of his tshirt, hoping he hadn’t been loud or interrupted anyone’s sleep.

It reminded him too much of the terrible nights of his childhood, fresh bruises already blackening around his cheek, under his ribs, the pain swirling behind his eyelids causing the sickness before little Gale could get it under control.

“Buck?” A voice called out, whispering, but still too loud for the dead of night.

Gale didn’t have the energy to respond.

Footsteps grew near.

“Buck! Hey,” a body crouched near him, gentle hands settling on his shoulders, like a blanket.

When Gale didn’t lift his head immediately, Bucky, softly, barely touching him, placed his rough hand on Gale’s cheek, calling the other man to meet his eyes.

When John felt the wetness of tears under his palm, his brows furrowed further in concern, if that were possible.

“Hey, doll, what’s the matter?” He whispered.

Gale must’ve been really really tired. The term of endearment didn’t seem out of place, it didn’t jolt his system the way it would in any other instance, it just seemed right.

As if he were expecting John to call him that.

A second hand moved, so Buck’s face was effectively caged in by John’s grasp. It was only then he realized the heat Gale’s skin was radiating.

“You’re burning up, Gale. We need to get you back into bed.”

Gale finally lifted himself from his hiding place, meeting John’s eyes. He’d never seen that kind of worry there before.

“You called me Gale.” He mumbled before he could think about it.

John huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“Because I knew it would get you to pay attention.” He stands, and gently places one of Buck’s arms around his own broad shoulders.

“I can walk.” He mumbled, yet disproving his own point when he practically slumped into John with all his body weight, tucking his face into his neck. Gale huffed, wanting to be embarrassed, but finding he was rather annoyed at relying on John for yet another thing. Relying on anyone for anything is bad enough, but John doesn’t need a burden like him. He should be free, like a bird.

Gale is beginning to think, in the only rational part of his mind left, that there may be something wrong with him.

Maybe he’d been poisoned.

A snort followed his poor attempt at being right,

“Sure, doll. If you say so.”

Bucky practically carried him all the way back inside, he smelled like fresh air and lucky strikes with just a hint of something simply titled ‘John’, it could never be recreated, Buck knows.

Once settled under his blankets, warm and content, John smiles softly at him.

“Get some rest, Gale.”

“Thank you, John.” He whispered, watching the silhouette of the other man freeze and the continue his journey back to his bunk, without looking back.

A sad, pathetic sigh escaped him before he drifted off into an awful, fitful sleep.

When he woke again, he was sweating, and it was bright enough in the room to blind him when his eyes creaked opened.

Then he caught onto the silence of his surroundings. No quiet murmurs of morning. No shuffling feet.

Daylight.

Silence.

Oh God, the meeting, the mission.

“Oh, fuck.” He says before he can remember he isn’t supposed to.

He’s up and getting dressed before he can even breathe.

He’s late. He’s so incredibly late, the captain is going to have his ass.

Oh, no.

“Whoa, whoa.” A hand on his chest settles his rushed movements. “Slow your roll there, cowboy.” Bucky just walked through the door, holding, what looks like, soup in a cup?

“Bucky, I’m late. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be helping Curt with flight check?” Gale is confused as to why either one of them are still here talking, and why no one woke him up.

A small smile appeared on John’s face, stilling Gale once again.

“What’s with the face?”

Bucky shook his head,

“Leave it to you to be deathly ill and still be worried about flight check.”

Gale looks at him like he’s crazy, which makes it even funnier.

“I’m not sick, John.”

“Tell that to your hundred and four degree fever.”

“What-how do you-“ Buck stopped, huffing in a breath. He probably looks ridiculous, one pant leg on and no shirt, with a sock halfway rolled up his foot. “Why are you here, then? If I’m sick, you could catch it. I shouldn’t even be in here, I should stay in the med tent.” He’s babbling.

Bucky has been watching him with wide eyes. He’s never seen Gale so ruffled, and stuttering.

He’s never seen him so not put-together.

He loves it. He’s drinking up the sight like water, though he does feel a pinch of guilt and hurt that Gale had to be sick in order for him to see this side of him.

“It’s a cold, Buck. Your body just needs some rest and it’s forcing you to get it, the only way it knows how.” Bucky turned back to something that he had discarded on his bed.

“You are not late, so you can stop having a panic attack and lay back down. I already told the Captain that you were sick. It’s not contagious. And I’m not leaving you here, sick and alone.”

For once, Gale went without a fuss.

He was exhausted.

“I brought you some pills. Doc said they should help.” John said, offhand.

The words send Gale spinning into a future he’d never imagined before. One where he and Bucky are living in a nice humble house with a few acres out back. John brings home the paper from town and they gossip about the neighbors while they drink coffee in the morning, huddled together on the porch swing. Maybe a good hound at their feet.

“Buck?” That warm hand returned to his face, this time feeling his forehead.

“Jesus, Buck, I’ve never felt skin this hot.”

“Careful,” Gale huffed a laugh. “You’re gonna give a fella an ego too big for his boots.”

John seemed to think this was funny too. Fond amusement colored his eyes, clear skies on a moonlit night.

“Maybe you could use a little ego, Saint Cleven. You’re too humble.” The hand that had previously taken his temperature by touch, carded its fingers through Gale’s hair. Sweaty blond locks that had fallen over his forehead were pushed back, cool air on his face more prevalent. It felt good while at the same time, sent shivers down his spine.

[reminiscing-romance]

some soso cute fanart for my fic “she’s cheer captain and i’m on the bleacher’s” that user @zyabmn861 on tiktok made that i’m sharing here so that i can copy the image link and put it in the fic <3

[icarusfallingg]

Guys that stupid lucky deuce Bucky gives Gale? IT ACTUALLY WORKS. Bucky had it on his missions, gave it to Buck on his first. Buck didn’t go down, and when Bucky joined him in the air neither did he. When it was left behind, the one time it was left behind Gale went down. Bucky didn’t know Gale didn’t have it, and when he flew without Gale or the deuce he also went down. They both(luckily) landed in the same stalag.

So between the two of them, the deuce was lucky, but they were also eachothers ‘Lucky charms’

Buck and Bucky; eachother’s lucky charms

Look me in the eye and tell me they are not soulmates