#euryno-j47

[sansaorgana]

Can you write a Buck x innocent reader? Not smutty but maybe Buck finds it endearing how innocent she is?

hiii, thank you both for the requests! this story is the longest one [almost 5k words xd] out of all those "short fics" 😂 because I decided to go somewhere else with the plot this time... 👀 the Reader finds Buck hiding in her barn after his plane was shot down but I don't specify what country it is exactly (one of the occupied ones) 💝 she is sweet and innocent and shy and she saves his life so, like, how can he not be crazy about her? 😁

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

The sound of the American and German planes above you was common these days but it terrified you each time. Living in the countryside had many privileges – like being away from the main bombing targets – but it also could get dangerous when the burning planes would fall down from the sky. Your father was standing outside and watching them carefully, making sure they weren’t coming too close because you’d have to evacuate quickly if they did.

You were standing inside by the window with your mother – both scared and hoping it would be over soon. Then, a sound of loud explosion made you startle as you squealed and hugged your mother closer.

“It’s over,” your father finally went back inside and held you both to help you calm down. “The American plane went down in the forest. I’ve seen the parachutes but it’s none of our business,” he reminded you both.

“If the Germans come, what should we tell them?” Your mother asked. You had never had a plane go down so close.

“We haven’t seen anyone,” he pursed his lips.

Your father hated the Nazis but he also wanted to survive more than anything else. He didn’t want to get involved in anything that would bring death to his family. However, he still hoped the Allies would win.

In the evening you went to the barn as usual to check on your cow and to close it for the night. You approached her and patted her neck to caress her gently. You usually preferred animals to humans. They were so quiet and calm and they didn’t start scary wars with bombing planes, tanks and rifles.

An odd noise made you look around, scared. You were easily startled at anything these days and usually it would just be mice so you tried not to panic.

However, you spotted a few mice nearby and they were not in the same direction the sound was coming from. And the sound was nothing any mouse would make. It was… breathing. Sharp, muffled breaths.

“H-hello?” You asked and you swallowed thickly as you approached the dark corner of the barn where most of the straw was stored.

Your steps were slow and careful and then you saw something moving slightly and you spotted a pair of eyes looking at you… a pair of human eyes without a doubt.

Your whole body froze as your heart skipped a beat and your hands got cold and shaky. There was a man in your barn and you were terrified, not knowing what to do. You wanted to scream for your father but you were scared of what that person would do. You could run away but what if he was faster and would catch you?

“Hello?” He answered in a weak, raspy voice. “Please, don’t be scared,” he added but you kept standing there, petrified. “Do you speak English?”

You swallowed thickly. He had to be an American, you thought. One of those that had been shot down earlier that day. You had heard stories of them showing up to people’s houses like that. The Nazis wanted everyone to contact them immediately when such things would occur.

“I… I do speak English, yes,” you whispered. “My dad’s an English teacher,” you explained and you finally gained the courage to approach the man.

He was sitting on the floor in the darkest corner of the barn and he was holding one of his arms as his face winced out of pain. He was quite young and you could see his golden hair under all the mud and straw.

“Are you alright, sir? You’re American?” You asked.

“American, yes. I’ll be fine, just… Water, please,” he pleaded and you bit on your lower lip, not knowing what to do.

You should tell your father, no doubt about it. But what if your father would call the Nazis? He didn’t like them but he didn’t like the prospect of being killed either.

“I’ll bring you something. You just wait here,” you told him and he nodded.

He was completely at your mercy now, you realised. He gave you his trust, because you could just run out of the barn and call for the Gestapo. He trusted that you wouldn’t do that. He had no other choice.

You sneaked inside the kitchen to make sure your mum would not see you and you grabbed a bottle of milk and some cheese. Then you took a bun out of the bread bin and you went back to the barn.

“Is milk okay?” You asked as you crouched down next to the man to hand him the food. “I also got you cheese and a bun. I’m sorry the bun is not really fresh.”

“It’s more than I asked for… Thank you,” he took the food from you and you watched him eat it like a starving man. You noticed him wincing once in a while and that his shirt was torn on his arm and lots of dry blood around it.

“What happened to your arm?” You asked, quietly.

“I fell down when I landed and I hurt it,” he explained.

“It doesn’t look good. It should be disinfected,” you pointed out.

“I don’t want to be a bother. I will sleep here… if you let me… and I will leave in the morning. I don’t want to be a problem for you and your family,” he promised.

You remained silent. You felt bad for that man. He shouldn’t be travelling in his state and he was an easy target for the Germans in his uniform, especially being slowed down by his injury.

“I have to go before my dad checks on me,” you told him and he nodded.

You closed the barn and went back home with a heart feeling heavy in your chest. You had to tell your father about it and if he’d want to call the Gestapo, you’d just beg him not to.

“Papa, there is something I have to tell you,” you started as he was sitting on the sofa and reading a book. He raised his eyes to look at you and so did your mother, crocheting on the rocking chair.

“What is it, love?”

“There’s an American in our barn,” you announced and your parents looked at each other, terrified. Your father closed the book loudly and put it away. “I gave him some food. He is hurt.”

“You talked to him?” Your father stood up and you took a step back, scared. You were afraid he would get angry at you.

“I’m sorry, he is hurt… And he was thirsty and hungry…”

“You gave him our food? We barely have any!” Your mother was not pleased.

“Just a bottle of milk, an old bun and some cheese!” You tried to explain yourself. “I can skip breakfast tomorrow morning for that,” you offered.

“Enough. No one’s skipping breakfast,” your father furrowed his brow as a deep wrinkle appeared on his forehead. “Let me speak to him.”

“Be careful!” Your mother stood up and followed you both to the front door as she watched you walk towards the barn. Your father was carrying a candle with him.

“I will go first and tell him about you,” you whispered. “He might get scared seeing you and I saw he had a gun.”

Your father nodded and you pushed the door leading to the barn carefully.

“Hello, it’s me again,” you started. “Please, don’t get angry.”

“I am not angry,” you heard a voice from the darkness.

“I brought my dad with me. I had to tell him, I’m sorry… But he won’t hurt you,” you promised. The man did not answer. “Can I bring him inside?”

“It’s his barn. You don’t have to ask me,” he told you and you waved at your dad to come inside.

The candle in his hands made the whole room a little brighter and now you both could see the American sitting by the wall better. 

“Who are you?” Your father approached him as he asked.

“Major Gale Cleven, sir. I was shot down earlier that day,” he explained. “Please, let me stay here for the night and I will leave tomorrow morning. I don’t want to be a problem.”

“You already are, son,” your father pointed out.

“Papa…!” You extended your hand towards him but he shushed you.

“If they find you in this barn, they will immediately know who you are. Come inside,” your father said and you widened your eyes. So did the American Major.

“A-are you sure, sir?”

“Yes, come,” your father handed you the candle and he helped Major Cleven to stand up and they slowly began walking towards the house. You closed the barn and followed them.

When they were inside, your mother was clearly unhappy but she didn’t say anything.

“Bring him some of my clothes. We have to get rid of this uniform and you have to take a look at his arm,” your father told her. “And you,” he pointed at you, “run him a bath.”

“I really don’t want to be a bother,” Major Cleven protested.

“That’s the least we can do to help any man fighting those monsters,” your father said and you sighed out of relief. For a moment you feared that he had lured the American inside only to tell you to call the Gestapo a few moments later.

You were proud to be his daughter.

You all went to sleep very late because of the hassle with Major Cleven. He was sleeping on a sofa, his arm was bandaged, he was washed and he had some of your father’s clothes on him. You woke up first and went downstairs to prepare breakfast for everyone but from the corner of your eye you watched the American asleep on the sofa in the living room which was connected to your small kitchen.

He was a handsome man and it was bringing heat to your cheeks. You had never expected to meet a real American pilot. Not here, not in this European village in the middle of nowhere. You thought of all the American things that you had known of – beautiful Hollywood actresses, pin up girls, Coca Cola, New York buildings… It all seemed more like a dream than a real place and this man sleeping on your couch was coming from it. It felt surreal.

You turned around to focus on preparing coffee and sandwiches with anything you could find in the fridge. You were so deep in your American daydream that you didn’t hear him waking up and walking inside the kitchen.

“Hello,” he greeted you and you jumped a little before turning your head around. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he smiled softly.

God, he was gorgeous. Like from a movie.

“It is fine. I am… How do you say it… tamid?” You stuttered out. You felt awkward not knowing how to say it.

“Timid,” he chuckled. 

“Timid, yes. I’m sorry,” you looked down.

“You don’t have to apologise to me. Your English is very good,” he assured you and your face lightened up at that compliment.

“How do you like your coffee, Major?” You asked.

“Call me Buck, please. That’s how friends call me,” he extended his hand.

“Buck? What does it mean?” You shook it.

“It’s just a nickname,” he explained. “And what’s your name, miss?”

“Oh, yeah, my name’s (Y/N). So, how do you take your coffee, Major?” You introduced yourself and quickly changed the subject.

“Black – no milk, no sugar,” he answered.

“Well, I’m glad because we don’t have sugar,” you chuckled softly. “We haven’t had it in a long while now,” you explained.

“Your family is very generous,” Buck took a cup of coffee from you and your fingers brushed for a brief moment. You felt butterflies in your stomach.

“My father is against the Nazis,” you told him. “He has friends in the local resistance, he will introduce you to them. But we have to wait for your arm to get better first.”

“Thankfully it looked worse than it truly was. Your mother is skilled with these things,” he gave you yet another dashing smile.

Was it an American thing to do to smile so much…? Either way, you didn’t mind.

“She is a nurse,” you told him.

“And you?” He raised his eyebrows and you looked down again.

What were you supposed to tell an American pilot? It felt embarrassing.

“I want to be a teacher like my father… But now I can’t study much, I have to help around the farm. We have our cow, some chickens and a small garden. We used to have a boy coming here to help us but he’s… Well, he’s been killed. It’s difficult,” you explained.

“I’m sorry to hear that… But hey, being a teacher sounds great,” Buck patted your shoulder and you looked up at him in disbelief. He still had that charming smile on his face as he sipped on his coffee. “It’s so good, thanks,” he winked at you, trying to cheer you up a little.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you felt your cheeks heating up and then you heard footsteps on the staircase so you went back to preparing sandwiches since your parents had already been awake.

Buck stayed at your place for a week to let his arm heal. In the meantime he had written a letter addressed to his British base that your father had handed to his friends from the resistance. Buck wanted his friends to know that he was alive and safe.

He was helping around the house and since both of your parents had their regular jobs in the town nearby, you would spend most of your days with him. He was helping you around the garden and with your cow and chickens. He was a funny and charming man and you couldn’t help yourself but to fall in love with him.

You were a shy girl from a small village, you were nothing like those stunning American girls you had seen in the magazines. Your English was not perfect and your stories were not even half as exciting as his. You knew very well that there was no chance that a man like Buck would ever even see you as a woman in a romantic sense. He was a gentleman and he always treated you with respect but nothing more than that.

One time when you were in the garden with him, you spotted a familiar German soldier approaching you and you panicked inside.

“Don’t talk to him,” you told Buck as you faked a smile at the soldier. “Hello, sir!” You greeted him.

“Hello, hello, I’ve been around, decided to check on you. I saw your parents in town and thought to myself you must be all alone here,” he leaned on the fence and squinted his eyes at Buck. “Who’s that?” He asked.

“My cousin,” you explained as your heart was pounding in your chest. You clasped your hands behind your back to hide your nervousness.

“Cousin, huh? Hey, cousin!” He called for Buck and he looked up but he didn’t say anything as you had told him. He couldn’t understand your conversation anyway. “What is he? Mute?”

“Actually, yes, he’s…” you lowered your voice, “...you know, not quite right. In the head, I mean. They sent him here to help around the house because his family is sick of him. His sister got married and she doesn’t want him around at that time, you get me…”

You felt awfully bad for this lie but it was the only way to explain why Buck wouldn’t speak a word. If he tried to speak your language, he would be immediately exposed as an American. He’d be taken to some captive camp and your family would be killed. Or he’d get killed, too. It depended on the German, really. And this one was known for being quite nasty.

The soldier looked you up and down and then he chuckled to himself.

“Sure, sweetheart. Well, have fun with your cousin then. See you around.”

“See you around, sir,” you waved at him nervously and you watched him walk away.

“What happened?” Buck asked quietly.

“Nothing. He wanted to know who you are,” you explained with a soft smile. “I told him we are cousins and that you can’t speak because you’re, well, slow,” you admitted with a shy giggle, afraid of his reaction.

Buck found it funny, though. He laughed and shook his head.

“And you came up with that lie on a spot?” He asked.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do? By the way, this German keeps coming around all the time and talking to me. I’m glad you’re here because every time he comes by when I’m alone, I get scared,” you admitted. “He’s like that with lots of girls ‘round here. He only talks but it’s still scary,” you gasped and Buck furrowed his brow. “I think he likes it when we’re scared of him. He asks questions and all that. He’s known for being a brute when things get serious.”

“Yeah, I don’t like it that you’re stayin’ here all alone,” he admitted with a nod and your cheeks heated up in an instant.

You were waiting for your father and Gale while sitting on the fence with your ankles wiggling in the air. You were worried about them because every time your father would visit his resistance friends, it could end badly. Especially now, when he was walking with an American by his side.

And as much as you wanted Buck to go back to his friends, you were also sad that it was time for you to say goodbye to him. You knew it was selfish, but you hoped he would stay for a longer time.

You saw them at the horizon and you sighed out of relief. You jumped back on the ground and ran up to them.

“And? And?” You asked, excitedly.

“We’ll talk inside,” your father gave you a scolding look. Buck smiled at you and you smiled at him.

In complete silence you walked back home and sat by the dining table together.

“Major Cleven leaves tomorrow morning,” your father told you and you faked a huge smile, although your heart broke. You really hoped you would get a few more days with him.

“I’m so happy for you, Buck,” you told him. “I wish you all the luck on the way.”

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“(Y/N),” your mother looked down at you while squinting her eyes. You had a feeling she had known about your crush on Major Cleven. “It’s time for you to check on the cow and lock the barn.”

“Yes, mama,” you sighed and left the table to go outside and straight to the barn.

After a while, Buck joined you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him with a sad smile, trying to hide that you had been crying silently.

“Well, it might be my last evening but I’m still here and I want to help,” he told you.

“I can handle that,” you shrugged your arms. “I can handle everything on my own. I had used to before you showed up,” you added.

Buck didn’t say anything to that. He looked down and blushed a little. You looked away and focused on caressing the cow to calm yourself down.

“I feel bad for leaving you here,” he admitted.

“But what does it change?” You asked and he looked up, furrowing his brows. “I mean, really. What does it matter at all? You’re from a completely different world and I’m… well, me,” you swallowed thickly, trying to fight the tears forming in your eyes and ignoring your throat squeezing tightly. “I am just a village girl in the middle of nowhere, from some place you cannot even pronounce properly. I have never tasted Coca-Cola, never seen a Hollywood movie, only seen pictures in the magazines. I’ve never had lipstick or rollers in my hair. I’m less than ordinary. But it’s fine. It’s how it is here. And you…” you hesitated for a while before taking a deep breath in. “You’re from a different world. You’re so confident and so charismatic and so brave and so… American,” you chuckled through the tears. “So what does it matter that you feel bad about it? You have to leave. This is not your world. You would leave sooner or later.”

You tried not to look at him but his silence forced you to lay your eyes on him. He looked like a beaten dog and it made you feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised but he approached you and held your shaking hand in his. You looked up and he leaned in closer to your face but he visibly hesitated as if he had no idea if he could do what he wanted to do. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe that it was happening.

You weren’t confident enough to give him a proper kiss. You only pecked his cheek delicately and he smiled gently at you.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” he raised his free hand to caress your cheek, “and none of the things you said were true. You’re not less than ordinary. You’re very special but you don’t even know that.”

“Me? Special?” You sniffed your tears back as you shook your head in disbelief.

“You’re a girl one in a million, I mean it,” he brushed your chin with his fingers. “I will never forget you.”

“I will never forget you,” you told him sadly, knowing perfectly well that it would be you who would truly mean your words for the rest of your life.

A man like Major Cleven would move on easily. But you couldn’t blame him for that.

It was the autumn of 1945 and you landed your first job in the local school. Since you weren’t qualified to teach regularly yet, you were supposed to look after the younger children. Either way, you were glad for this job opportunity which would bring your family extra money and some job experience for you.

You often wondered what Buck was doing. Had he come back home? Had he been caught? Killed? You didn’t want to think of that possibility. Had he met someone…?

You didn’t have his picture; you hated how you almost forgot some details of his face already or the exact sound of his voice. You promised to never forget him and you were sure you wouldn’t ever forget a man named Buck. But you couldn’t help forgetting all those little things that were making a real person and not a vague concept of an American you had known a long time ago and loved… Like you were an old woman telling stories to her grandchildren.

The bell rang and all the kids packed their bags before running outside. You were slower with your things as you had no things to be in the hurry for. You walked outside and took a deep breath in, enjoying the fresh, crispy air and the cool breeze on your face.

“Miss (Y/L/N)! Who’s that man?” One of the boys tugged on your cardigan and you looked down at him.

“Hm? What man?” You asked.

“That man over there! He looks like those American pilots I’ve seen in the newspaper!” The boy widened his eyes and your heart skipped a beat as you looked in the direction he was showing.

It couldn’t be him, could it?

You spotted a man leaning on the school’s fence. His golden hair was slightly ruffled by the wind, he was wearing sunglasses and chewing gum nonchalantly. What made him look like an American pilot the most was his leather military jacket, though.

“B-Buck…?” You whispered to yourself as you ran up to the man.

“Need a ride home, doll?” He greeted you with a smile as he pointed at the car behind him with his thumb.

“Buck…!” You screamed as you opened your arms and hugged him tight. He picked you up and spun you around as you giggled. “What are you doing here?!” You asked when he finally put you back down.

“You thought you’d get rid of me so easily?” He teased and you burst out in happy tears. “Shh,” he cupped your face and lifted it gently to make you look at him. “Hey, hey,” he took his sunglasses off and looked deeply into your eyes, “hey, I’m back. I’m fine. Are you fine?” He asked, worryingly.

“Y-yes,” you nodded through the tears. “I’m just… I’m just happy,” you confessed. “There was not a day I did not think of you…”

Buck smiled at that and brought you closer to his chest. You breathed in his scent and sighed.

“Please, tell me it’s not a dream,” you sobbed again. “Because I’ve dreamt it a million times before already.”

“It’s not a dream, my sweet girl. I promised I wouldn’t forget about you.”

“But you didn’t promise to come back,” you pointed out.

“I didn’t want to make promises I was not sure if I am able to keep. I didn’t know if I’d get out of this whole mess alive,” he rubbed your back and moved away slightly to look down at your face again. “Hope you haven’t married anyone in the meantime?”

“Are you crazy?” You laughed at him through the tears.

“I mean it, doll, have you met someone?” He asked and you shook your head. “Good. Because I really, really, really, would like to take you out on a date,” he told you and you felt butterflies all over your body.

But… It might have not been a dream. Yet it still felt too good to be true.

“Why me?” You asked with a more serious expression on your face and he furrowed his brows. “I mean, why? Why did you come back for me? I’m sure there are dozens of beautiful and kind women that would love to go out on a date with you. And you didn’t have to cross an Ocean for them.”

“Why you?” He asked as if he couldn’t believe the question because the answer was obvious. It wasn’t obvious for you, though. “You saved me. Your kindness, your generosity, your big heart – they saved me on that night. You could have left me there in the barn or call the Gestapo on me. You were terrified of me, I could see that. But you were too good to let me die, you were so brave. You saved me. And I’ve never met a girl as sweet and kind and beautiful as you,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb to wipe some tears away. “And I know you don’t feel this way about yourself, doll. But I’m gonna change that. I’m gonna tell you this every day until you believe me.”

“This is all very sweet, Buck, but… What I said back then, it’s still true. We are from two different worlds. The war might be over now but it doesn’t change the fact I’m just some village girl from Europe and you’re an American hero,” you shook your head.

“I’m not a hero,” he laughed softly. “And America is not that different, my sweet one. It’s not like in the magazines you’re reading. Anyway, I could stay here, too.”

“You don’t even speak the language,” you laughed.

“I’m a quick learner,” he shrugged his arms. “And I wouldn’t mind working at the farm while you teach. I just want to be with you,” he admitted casually as if he hadn’t just devoted his whole life to you and you only.

Your eyes widened at him. He really did mean that.

You threw your arms around him and let him spin you around once again as you giggled.

“Miss!” A whiny voice made you both turn around and look at the annoyed little boy. “So is he an American pilot or not? How long do I have to wait?!”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John || Apologies

Summary: John Egan sits down to respond to the unforeseen favor of a letter from Miss Julie Jean Turner

Warning: mild, usual universe warnings

Circa: late August 1943

All writing credit to my incredible baby buddy Bri, knowing I was swamped with other chapters and having been possessed by the spirit of old romance she set out to write this, loosely based on our mutual screams in the the dms

Dear Ms. Tierney,

If strangers call you Lana Tierney and friends call you Julie Jean Turner, I do not fit in either category after the way I behaved when writing to you my letter, and as such, I’m choosing to address you respectfully. I meant every word I said, Acorn, but I was crude and unmannered in my speaking to you and a gal like you deserves better.

Fuck- there I go with that nickname.

And now I’ve written a curse. I have to wrap this up before I turn it to further shit. My intended apology to you is very real but my approach - whether in being in awe of you or asking for your forgiveness - my approach never is right.

Buck has sat me down now and he’s told me where I went wrong in the way I was so vulgar with you. I told him I must have done something right to receive such a lovely picture in response, but then I got to thinking you were most likely only doing your due diligence and making happy a man who can die any day now. Like another stop at the war bond tour.

A.C.O.R.N. - you’ve asked what it means but this letter is to be respectful and at some point on this paper I hope to get to my apology. In accordance with the respect and manners and apology that I keep referencing I can’t let you know what it stands for, doll. It’s filthy (in the best possible way) and you absolutely cannot know what it means. This is a nice letter of respect and penance so let me get to it. Forgive me Ms. Tierney for my vulgar comments and shameless drunken ramblings that in turn forced you to feel like you had to give me the time of day. I am not worthy but I will appreciate your response and kindness and loveliness well beyond the length of this godforsaken war.

Take care sweet, precious, gentlest of ladies.

Your devoted (and sober) admirer,

Maj. John Egan

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[axailslink]

Eddie Munson Hc's in character no bs part 2

this man has a cat that he named Ozzy it wondered itself into the Munson home trailer and has not left since

says "fuck you" but really means I love you and would fight for you

does not go easy on you when you both play games will cheat and will tease his way into winning

you both are very competitive the kids have learned not to put you two on the same team ever again they will get their asses handed to them on a platter

you two dance late at night to his loud ass music it's almost routine

has nothing in his fridge but sandwich meat and beer so you do all the shopping when you decide to spend the night

"you really survive on that shit?" "you don't?"

this man loves cuddling you and he's almost never the big spoon unless you need some comfort

bites you for the hell of it doesn't explain what possessed him to do it but he just chomps randomly on any fat on you like your tummy or thighs

has an obsession with doing your hair learned to brush it up and everything just so when you were tired or hungover he could help

when it comes to his own hair you have to trap this man in your legs just to brush one section out

this man smells of cigarettes, weed and the woods all the time even if he's freshly showered

doesn't bother shaving his stubble because you once said you liked the way it felt when you were cuddling

started learning Spanish for fun once so he just randomly yells shit in Spanish

does not know what a towel is just fresh out of the shower booty butterball naked trying to cuddle

"AHhhhhh Eddie get your dick off my back!!!!"

this man sleeps with the cat more than you but no complaints you won't have his feet on you wake up

this man has some of the biggest feet you have ever seen and purposely keeps them near you

has a pretty thick happy trail that he refuses to shave and you don't have anything against it

this man is fucking hairy his legs are always rubbing against yours trying to start a forest fire

since the whole Vecna thing he finds it hard to sleep so you have become his personal waited blanket, he wants all of your weight on top of him while he sleeps.

enjoys watching you sleep finds it calming

going to have to do part three of this this was not supposed to be this long...anyways lovelies eat this up like you usually do.

@oliverceeven @anangelwhodidntfall @mywinterivy @eddies-trampstamp @okaymunson @euryno-j47 @siddunbi @secretchailatte @stitchinaride @gloombonezzz @ritalinrevolver-blog @fawn-likes-monsters @toadsquirt3-99 @ray-is-dead @ragd01l

-thank you guys for reblogging on the last post also you lgbtq+ readers should come back any time I enjoy the company.

[sansaorgana]

Can you do a buck x reader where she’s a nurse and takes care of everyone at the 100 and they all think she’s just perfect and a mother figure while all the soldiers are away from that mother figure and one day she like snaps when having to deal with screaming soldiers and she goes up to one the higher power guys and like cussing them out for constant sending the men into a death trap and her having to pick up the pieces and buck has to hold her back while she’s just screaming at the other guy and everyone else is like 🧍

hello, thank you for your request! 🧡 I've just realised that none of my previous Readers in the stories with Buck were nurses lol 😷 most likely because I can't even imagine myself as a nurse and writing about all these things is enough to make me feel sick 🤣 but because of this, it was easy to write this story where the Reader is at her breaking point lol proceed with caution because there are ugly descriptions of blood, needles, death etc.

also this gif asdfghjkl I swear, in the story he has more compassion towards the Reader 🤣🤣🤣

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

You thought you could do it. When the war had started, you hadn’t thought twice as you had signed up to help. Real help. No paperwork or coffee making. You had wanted to become a nurse.

The physical aspect of your job was not that difficult. You knew what to do in most situations and you had learnt how to stop frowning at the physiological body functions. It was the emotional aspect of the job that no one had prepared you for.

Sometimes the boys would come back from the air battles with nothing but mere scratches. They would still come by just to spend time with you and let your gentle, skilled hands to patch them up as they were telling you stories.

Sometimes the same boys would not come back from their next mission and the stories they had told were all that was left of them. You would cherish them in your heart forever.

Sometimes the boys would come back burnt, with half of their faces blown out or their guts bleeding all over the floor. Their screams of pain would haunt you later at night. Those were your boys.

Perhaps that was why you were everyone's favourite nurse. You were getting attached to them so easily, treating everyone as a friend, offering them a loving hug when they needed it, listening to their stories, helping them to write letters to their mothers and girlfriends or children. You were a good spirit of the base and one of the planes was named after you. So far it still hadn’t gone down and everyone treated it as a sign that you were their guardian angel indeed.

You didn’t see yourself as a guardian angel. If you had to stay within the religious imagery examples, you’d rather describe yourself as a mater dolorosa – lady of sorrows watching her son’s suffering and not being able to help him.

Sometimes they would die in your arms. Still, it was better than to die in a burning plane. Better for them. Not for you.

Today was a day of a very difficult mission. Most of the planes hadn’t come back at all. And the ones who had, were full of men screaming in agony and pain. You were barely able to hold it all together when they were reaching their hands out for you as if your touch would heal them. But it wouldn’t. It couldn’t, no matter how much you wanted it.

“(Y/N), you should take a break…” Your friend put her hand on your shoulder. You were exhausted indeed. You were working for three hours straight without sitting down for one second and you were running around from one bed to another. “Go, rest,” she insisted but you shook your head and went back to work.

Only when you noticed that your hands were shaking so much that you weren’t able to inject a needle into a vein properly, you decided to take a break indeed. You didn’t want to cause even more damage by trying too hard.

But before leaving the sickbay you wanted to check on one of the young pilots. He was nineteen years old, it had been his first mission and you remembered how excited he had been about it. Now he was laying on one of the beds, barely breathing as his chest was burnt and lungs damaged.

You were approaching his bed and your heart sank to your chest at the sight of the doctor putting a white sheet over his face.

“Wh-what… What are you doing to Johnson, sir?” You asked.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” the doctor shook his head. “He’s just passed away.”

You just stood there with your lips slightly parted. Johnson was just another surname on the list of all these boys you would never forget about. But Johnson was special. He was the youngest you had known. He couldn’t stop talking about his mother and little sister, about his dog and his girlfriend waiting for him back in Alabama.

Your sadness overtook your whole body and then it developed into an anger so big that you felt as if you were about to explode and bring down the whole base.

“Son of a bitch…” You breathed out angrily as you stormed out of the sickbay without even taking your apron off. It was full of blood but you did not care.

You walked down the corridor with murder in your eyes, making everyone step out of the way. And you entered the Colonel’s office without knocking, so loudly and rapidly that all the men inside startled.

“Miss?” Colonel Harding asked as he was sitting behind his desk and showing some sort of a map to a few Majors.

One of them was Major Cleven. He hadn’t been up in the air on that day but he would be tomorrow. And was the one you had befriended the most. But even his presence couldn’t stop your rage at that moment.

“You can’t just keep sending them to die, Colonel!” You clenched your fists and approached the desk as the men watched with big eyes. “Look! Look, Colonel! Look!” You showed him your bloody hands and your apron. “Why is it me with their blood and guts all over me? While you’re just sitting here, planning…” You gave the map a very angry look. You wanted to tear it apart and you were shaking to stop yourself from doing so. “You’re sending them to death, all of them, they’re just boys! Johnson was nineteen years old! Do you even know who he was? Or was he just another number to you?!”

“(Y/N), calm down, let’s take you outside…” Buck approached you carefully but you moved away.

“No! I will not be silenced. I have things to say and I will say them!” You snapped at him and he froze. You laid your eyes back on the surprised Colonel again. “You just sit here and plan how to send them to death more efficiently. You men… Can’t you see how stupid this whole war is? How stupid every war is? And just because some brilliant engineers constructed planes, doesn’t mean they should be used to kill people!”

“Miss…” Colonel furrowed his brow, “Miss I-Don’t-Know-Your-Name, are you done?”

“You son of a bitch!” You banged your bloody fists on his desk and his stupid map got covered with blood. “You don’t even know my name. But I am the one to patch them up and hold their hand when they’re dying after you sent them to death. God damn you, Colonel Harding! You and all the Generals that you serve! God damn Hitler, God damn Churchill and God damn your fucking President Roosevelt!”

“(Y/N), please,” Buck’s strong hands pulled you away. “I’m sorry, Colonel. She’s all shook up,” he tried to explain your behaviour as you started sobbing when the anger had finally left your body. You hid your face in his uniform and allowed him to put his arm around you. “I’ll take her outside.”

“Yeah, you better do it, son,” Colonel nodded at him. Buck started to walk you out slowly and carefully as you heard Colonel’s voice while you were walking out of the door. “Poor girl… She needs a free weekend.”

Buck took you outside and watched you worryingly as you were catching your breath back and trying to calm yourself down, wiping the tears off of your face with the palms of your bloody hands.

“Here, let me,” he took out a handkerchief and wiped your face with it gently. “Gee, (Y/N), what was that?”

“I… I don’t know… I just can’t… I can’t do it anymore, Buck… That boy, Johnson, he was nineteen… Nineteen, for God’s sake,” you sniffed your tears back and looked into his eyes as your lips trembled. “He was telling me stories about his mum and little sister… His dog and his girlfriend… And now… And now he’s gone. Just like that. His lungs were burnt. Every breath was agony…” You tried to explain, still shaking.

“You really need a free weekend,” Buck pointed out and brought you closer to give you another hug.

It felt good to be in his arms. It was comforting. But you were scared to admit to yourself that you indeed liked him more than just a friend. Because if he would go down tomorrow or any other day, it would hurt even more.

“I can’t… I can’t leave my boys…” You took a step back to look at his face again. “And… And I can’t just take a free weekend. It would feel wrong. When you boys are up in the air, so brave and so heroic. All I can do is patch you up later. I can’t give up, no…”

“We all need a break sometimes. Hey,” Buck raised your chin up with his finger, “promise me that you’ll take a free weekend.”

“Aren’t you on a mission this weekend?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then no way, Buck,” you shook your head. “I have to be here to patch you up,” you smiled through the tears.

“There are other nurses ‘round here,” he pointed out with a soft smile.

“I don’t want them to touch you,” you admitted suddenly as your cheeks heated up.

Why the hell had you said that…?

“They don’t know how to patch you up properly, I mean…” You tried to explain yourself quickly. “Only I know how to–”

But he didn’t let you finish. He leaned in very carefully and placed a gentle kiss upon your lips. You were stunned.

“I know what you mean, sweetheart,” he teased after finally breaking the kiss and caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I promise I won’t get a single scratch when you’re not around.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[sansaorgana]

Angst idea where readers brother is in the 100 and buck her lover has to break the news that her brother was killed and she’s screaming in agony, and he’s just trying to be their for her in anyway possible :)

hi, love! 😌 I see you have a thing for angsty pieces 🤣 here it is then!

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Buck felt stupid for interrupting the nurses’ work with something as irrelevant as a headache when they were busy with much more important things but he couldn’t handle the stinging pain inside his head anymore. On his way to the sickbay he felt his temples pulsating and in a brief moment of a haze, he bumped into someone.

“For God’s sake!” He heard a female voice and then a sound of papers landing all over the floor. “Major Cleven!” She scolded him.

Buck’s senses came back to him and he spotted a woman crouching on the floor, gathering the scattered papers.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” he went on his knees as well to help her. “I’m sorry… I was on my way to the sickbay, I have an awful migraine,” he confessed.

“And you want to bother the nurses with it? When they’re patching up men with bullet holes?” She raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed, handing her the last paper off of the floor. She straightened herself and looked down at him with pity. “Come with me, I have aspirin in my office,” she offered him her hand and he took it to stand up as well.

He followed her to a small office next to the Colonel’s one and she gave him an aspirin from her desk’s drawer.

“Thank you, miss…” Buck stuttered out.

“(Y/L/N),” you introduced yourself.

“Are you perhaps family with Lieutenant (Y/L/N)?” Buck asked.

“Yes, he is my brother. We made sure to be assigned to the same place,” she nodded her head and he nodded his head.

“Thank you for the aspirin,” Buck said before walking out of her office.

This time he nearly bumped into Bucky.

“What is wrong with you today, man?” Bucky asked, worryingly.

“I have a migraine, doesn’t matter… I have aspirin already,” Buck showed him what he was holding in his hand. “(Y/L/N)’s sister gave it to me,” he explained.

“Stay away from her, you devil,” Bucky chuckled and Buck hissed at him. He was sure she could hear them. “I mean, for real, he’s a rough son of a bitch.”

“I know, I flew with him,” Buck chuckled. “He’s one of a kind.”

“Yeah, so if you don’t want to lose those pearly white teeth of yours, stay away from his sister,” Bucky teased.

However, it was not so easy to stay away from her. Perhaps the fact she was a sister of one of his friends was making it a bit more tempting as it felt forbidden.

But she really was a pretty girl – a bit rough like her brother sometimes – but also very helpful and kind when you got to know her.

“I see you’re staring at my sister, sir,” (Y/L/N) grinned at Buck one evening when they were eating supper by the same table. Buck blinked a few times and stopped looking at (Y/N) sitting with her female friends before laying his eyes on his friend.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” he made up an excuse.

“It’s okay,” (Y/L/N) shrugged his arms and Buck’s eyes widened a little. “I mean, she’s my little sister, so you know… Not easy for me. But she has to start dating one day whether I like it or not. And you’re a good man, Buck. If there is one man around that base I’d accept her to be with, it would be you.”

“Surely you can’t be serious,” Buck was confused. He liked to look at her, yes. Sometimes he observed her. But he hadn’t actually been thinking of starting any relationship on the base. “I mean, we can die any day.”

“My sister’s a tough cookie, she can handle that,” (Y/L/N) shrugged his arms. “What I’m sayin’ is that if you find my sister pretty, then talk to her, goddamnit. You don’t hear such words often, am I right? That’s how much I trust you, Cleven.”

“Thank you…” Buck cleared his throat and looked at (Y/N) again. She was staring at him, too, with a teasing smile. Her brother waved at her and she rolled her eyes before turning around to giggle at something with her friends.

It was almost as if (Y/N)’s brother was a matchmaker between Buck and her. Soon enough they became a couple as everyone else on the base teased them about it. Buck was trying to always be a gentleman around (Y/N), though, fearing that (Y/L/N) would indeed punch him if he tried to get too touchy or too pushy with his sister. Back at home, he had won some boxing tournaments, so they said. Buck didn’t want to find out if it had been true.

On that day both Buck and (Y/N) were nervous as hell because Bucky and Lieutenant (Y/L/N) were up in the air together. Buck was sitting in his girlfriend’s office and helping her with filling the papers to keep their heads busy.

“Ow,” she hissed suddenly as he raised his eyes, worryingly.

“Is everything alright?” He asked at the sight of (Y/N) clutching her chest.

“Y-yes… Just some weird cramp around my heart, I don’t know…” She tried to sound as casual as always but her eyes wandered to her brother’s picture on a desk.

“You should tell a doctor about it. Heart matters are no joke,” Buck was not satisfied with her answer.

“No, it’s different, baby, it’s not… Nevermind,” she sighed and her lower lip trembled a little. She bit on it and went back to filing the papers to keep her head busy.

About an hour later, Buck heard familiar noises from the outside.

“They’re coming back,” he stood up rapidly. “I’ll go and check. Wanna go with me?” He offered her his hand but she shook her head.

“N-no, I’d rather stay here,” she admitted.

Buck nodded and hurried out of her office to go outside and watch the planes land. He was relieved to see Bucky’s one but he couldn’t find the one with (Y/N)’s brother on board.

Nervously, Buck approached Bucky as his friend was jumping out of the plane.

“That was fucking hell!” Bucky looked exhausted but he grinned. “You’re a lucky bastard that you weren’t there!”

“What about (Y/L/N)?” Buck asked seriously and Bucky’s face frowned in an instant.

He shook his head as Buck’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, the plane, it went down…” Bucky explained nervously.

“Any parachutes?”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Bucky shook his head. “I mean, it happened so fast. They just… They blew up in the air. I doubt they even had time to grab any parachutes.”

Buck only nodded and turned around to walk back inside the base. He wanted to be the one telling (Y/N) about her brother’s death but he had no idea how to do it. He grieved his friends but his heart was also breaking for his girl and for the pain she would feel now. He wished he could take that all on him but it was impossible.

When he carefully entered her office again, she was already sobbing. There was no way someone had told her before the interrogation, though. He looked at her questioningly.

“He’s not back, am I right?” She hid her face in her hands and Buck’s eyes widened before he approached her to put his arms around her.

“How did you know?” He only asked and she let out a cry. She wrapped her arms around him and took a deep breath in.

“I just knew… I felt it, back then… I tried to tell myself it was not true but I just knew,” she admitted and Buck caressed her back.

After a while of holding her close and letting her cry out all the tears as she trembled in his arms, (Y/N) moved away slightly to look at Buck’s face.

“Maybe he’s just MIA?”

Oh, how he wished to be able to feed her with such hope. But there was none and there was no point of lying. Although her eyes were practically begging him to.

“Do you want the truth?” He swallowed thickly. He hated seeing her like that.

“No need. I already know,” she sobbed again and hid her face in the crook of his neck. “God, Buck, how will I even tell it to my parents?”

Buck didn’t say anything. There were no words. He only held her close and kept caressing her back and arms to comfort her.

Time passed and they just stayed like that. At some point, Colonel Harding opened the door and froze at the sight.

“She already knows,” Buck whispered and the Colonel nodded before leaving quietly.

Buck was sitting on the bed and watching (Y/N) going through her brother’s things quietly. He was there for emotional support because there was nothing else he could do except for just being there and it was killing him that he couldn’t do more.

“This I’ll send back home, this I’ll keep here with me,” she was mumbling as she rummaged through her brother’s personal belongings. She suddenly turned around with a smile on her face wet from tears. Buck furrowed his brows. “No comment at that,” she chuckled sadly and threw a few condoms at her boyfriend. “You can give them to Bucky,” she sniffled and went back to looking at her brother’s things.

Buck chuckled sadly, too. He hid the condoms in his pocket. He would give them to Bucky later indeed. (Y/L/N) and Bucky had loved to brag to each other about their adventures with women.

“Weird,” (Y/N) turned around and handed Buck an envelope. “It’s for you,” she said.

Buck caressed the paper delicately as he read the message written on it.

Give to Buck Cleven if I go down

“Are you sure you want me to read it?” Buck looked at his girl.

“What do you mean? It’s addressed to you,” she answered, confused. “It’s weird but that’s how it is.”

“Perhaps you’d like to read it first?” Buck wanted to make sure. It felt odd to have a letter from her dead brother waiting for him like that.

They had become close these past few weeks but it was not like they had been best friends.

“Just open it. Or not, it’s your decision. The letter is addressed to you,” (Y/N) shrugged her arms and went back to looking through her brother’s things.

Buck’s hands shook a little as he tore the envelope open and took out a note from it.

Buck, if you’re reading this, it means I went down. A possibility I’ve always considered. If there's one pilot out of us all who will survive this whole thing, it’s gonna be you. We both know it, don’t deny that. I sincerely hope you’re gonna be lucky enough and my sister will want to marry you one day. But for now, no matter what happens next, please take care of her. I made sure to be assigned to the same place she was being sent to. I promised our mother to look after her and now that’s a promise I cannot keep anymore. Please, do it for me. I am no man of words. As you can probably see… Ha ha ha. So that’s it, old man. Tell my baby sister that I love her and that I’m going to look after her from the other side. Sincerely, (Y/L/N). PS When you two have a son one day, it would be nice if you named him after me. Just a suggestion…!!!

“And?” (Y/N) turned around to check on Buck. “Oh, baby, what is it?” She asked when she saw tears in his eyes. “What did he say?”

“You can read it,” Buck handed her the letter and she sat next to him, holding the paper in shaking hands.

He watched her reading it as her eyes also filled with the fresh tears.

“I’m going to miss him so much… What will I even do without him?” She asked after giving Buck the letter back. Her voice was oddly calm as if she finally started to realise what had truly happened.

“He’s still here. Watching over you. That’s what it says here,” Buck pointed at the letter. “I take very seriously what he wrote,” he assured her and put his arm around (Y/N) to bring her closer and kiss her forehead. “Every word,” he added.

“I just want you to promise me one thing, Gale,” (Y/N) hugged him tighter.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Don’t leave me in this world like he did.”

Buck took a deep breath in. It was a promise he wanted to give more than anything but he couldn’t. All he could say was that he would try his best. But that was not what she wanted to hear. Perhaps she needed a little lie.

“I will not,” he said. “I promise.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[sansaorgana]

Bucky x reader where they get reunited after he gets back home, Mabye a very sappy and fluff and him getting back into demestic like w his girl and Mabye she’s like a clothing maker or m clothing mender/ tailor and that’s how she stay afloat while he’s gone and had no idea she was able to create things like that.

hi, babe! 💕 this is my first Bucky request – I believe I have at least one more in my inbox – and as I have promised, I gave it a chance to write for him 😅 I hope it's good enough because it felt totally different to write for him than for Buck lol 😁

Bucky was a never ending trouble in the best meaning of this word. He was loud, funny, playful, teasing and full of energy. Life with him was a rollercoaster you never wanted to get out of. When he went to Europe, it was as if he had taken all your sunshine and happiness with him.

The days were long and grey – boring. It was all about going to work and coming back home to listen to the radio and read all the letters you had received from your fiancé. That was for a few first months but then you found a hobby.

It had started with looking at the magazines and wanting those colourful dresses and skirts they had there but you couldn’t afford them. So you had bought a fabric and dug out your mother’s old sewing machine from the attic. Using her old books about making clothes on your own, you had managed to create your first floral skirt. Your very first rush of dopamine and colour after Bucky’s departure.

When your neighbours had noticed your skirts and dresses, they wanted them, too. It had quickly become your additional source of money, but most importantly – it was grounding you. You had spent endless nights listening to the radio and working on the fabrics, humming to yourself and trying to stay hopeful instead of constantly worrying about Bucky. You would go to sleep so tired that you couldn’t even stare at the ceiling and be anxious about his life. Sometimes it had been making you feel guilty that you were distracting yourself so much when he was a prisoner in some camp an ocean away from you… But you wanted to remain being yourself as much as you could. You didn’t want him to be greeted back home with the shadow of a woman he had once known.

Seeing him again felt odd. For a short while you hesitated from running into his arms and just stared at him as if he was a ghost. It was Bucky who ran up to you and picked you up to spin you around with that wide grin of his. You cupped his cheeks and smiled back, leaning in to rub your noses together and then join your lips in a sweet kiss. His moustache tickled your face as you wrinkled your nose with a giggle.

“My sweet girl,” he greeted you. “Sorry for being late. They didn’t want to let me go,” he made a joke as usual.

“Oh, how I missed you, John,” you kissed him again and he put you down on the ground.

“I see you’re all dolled up for me,” he pointed out and your eyes sparkled at that comment. You liked it when he was giving you compliments like that, it was making you feel confident and seen.

“Well, I tried,” you smiled.

“Where did you get a dress like that?” He asked, looking you up and down in a manner that brought heat to your cheeks. You already knew what he was thinking about.

“I made it,” you shrugged your arms and walked inside the house. 

“What do you mean you made it? You can create such things with those pretty little hands?” He was visibly impressed.

“Yes, I can show you after dinner,” you nodded at him.

After dinner, you brought all the dirty dishes to the kitchen and let them soak in the water before taking your apron off and joining Bucky in the living room. He was walking around and looking at the pictures of you two that you had on display.

“I liked to have you around,” you told him as you leant on the doorway. “A reminder that my boyfriend was not made up.”

“It feels so odd to be here,” he admitted and you smiled sadly at him. “Are you sure you want me to move in? I can rent a room in town.”

“I want you here with me,” you assured him.

“People will talk,” he pointed out. You knew that he didn’t worry about his reputation at all. But he worried about yours. You were always his first choice and his most important person. Alongside his best friend Buck.

“To the hell with them,” you rolled your eyes and he chuckled before approaching you and placing kisses all over your face.

“That’s the spirit. That’s my girl,” he teased. “I’m gonna marry you soon anyway and fill this house with a bunch of little babies. Daughters as beautiful and sons as smart as their mother,” he booped you on the nose.

“Girls can be smart, too,” you reminded him. “And boys can be beautiful,” you caressed his cheek.

“Yes, yes, of course… Now, show me the dresses?”

You nodded with a smile and held his hand to lead him upstairs.

“It’s not only dresses, you know… Skirts, too. A few blouses. I dug out my mum’s old sewing machine and started to make them. Half of the street wears them now. I earned quite a lot,” you admitted and Bucky whistled in admiration.

You opened the door to your bedroom. The sewing machine was standing by the window where the vanity table had once been. And on the chair next to it there were many colourful fabrics.

“Will you make something for me, too?” Bucky touched the fabrics delicately with his fingertips.

“I can surely try,” you chuckled. “But I will have to buy a new fabric.”

“No, no, look,” he pointed at the material with flowers, “a shirt like this,” he said and you laughed. “I’m being serious,” he winked at you. “I’d wear that. And I’d proudly say my wife made it when people asked or laughed.”

“Well, alright then, I’ll make you one like this but if you don’t wear it, I will never make anything else for you ever again,” you stuck your tongue out.

“Fine,” he stuck out his, too and you both laughed.

Bucky turned his back on you to keep admiring the fabrics and the neatly folded dresses and skirts inside your half-open wardrobe and you bit on your lower lip, trying not to make a sound as you felt the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t want to alarm him and to worry him, so you tried to hide your emotional reaction but eventually, you let out a sob and hid your face in your hands.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Bucky turned around and approached you quickly to put his arms around you. You shook your head, refusing to speak. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“It’s just… It’s just… I’m so happy you’re back and I can joke around with you again and…” you looked up into his worried eyes. “And making these clothes… It was everything keeping me alive when you were away. It was the only thing that helped me to stay sane. And now… Now you’re back, you’re really back and I can’t believe how happy I am… All that tension is just… gone,” you sniffed your tears back.

“Hey, baby,” Bucky wiped your tears off of your cheeks gently. “You should have known I wouldn’t let them kill me, right? And that I’d come back to you. I was planning to escape every day, hell, I would have escaped a hundred times but Buck was stopping me from doing something stupid. And I am grateful because in the end I am here with you. I just wish I could have been calling you from there to hear your sweet voice, to let you know I was okay. I hated to think how worried you had to be, little one,” he cupped your face and pulled you closer. You hugged him and rested your head on his chest. Bucky kissed your forehead and rubbed your back.

“I want to show you something else,” you whispered after a while and he nodded silently, still looking at you with worried eyes.

You approached the wardrobe and stood on a stool. Bucky followed you and stood behind you to make sure to catch you if you would fall down. You reached out to the top shelf and brought down a box. You put it on the bed and opened it, shyly looking at your fiancé.

He looked inside and widened his eyes at the sight of a collection of baby clothes.

“I made them for the future,” you told him quietly. “For our babies,” you added. “And I decided that if you don’t come back… I’d have them burnt. Even if I married someone else and had children with him, they wouldn’t be our babies. So, yeah… I was making them some nights, smiling to myself, hoping that some higher power sees that and thinks that now they just have to spare you,” you confessed.

“They’re beautiful,” Bucky picked up one of them and smiled widely. “I think they are my favourite creations of yours,” he admitted and you laughed through the tears.

“Thank you.”

Bucky put the clothes back into the box carefully and then he moved the box away to remove it from the bed completely.

“We should get to work then,” he winked at you and you furrowed your brows at those words but after a while you realised what he had meant.

“Oh, no, no, no, don’t you dare, Major Egan!” You giggled. “People will talk enough already about the two of us! For that we will wait until the wedding.”

“Let’s get married tomorrow then,” he grinned at you.

“You can’t be serious,” you sighed.

“Why not?”

“Because… I won’t be able to make a wedding dress overnight. In three days,” you reached your hand out with a playful smile.

“Three days, let that be. A man can wait,” he shook your hand as if you just had made a business deal and then he pulled you back into his arms again.

MASTERLIST

[therealslimshakespeare]

Realized I never added a taglist to this one, just in case y’all wanted to be alerted, here we go. I only have one MOTA taglist and so if this is not the universe you signed up for, please ignore.

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

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do the girls deal with any specific bouts of cruelty BECAUSE of period weeks? Like guards being especially malicious or things like that?

Female Complaints

Me instead of just answering, takes weeks and ends up writing you a blurb, which rather deviates from the original ask. Ugh sorry. The long and short of it is yes! If, and that’s a strong if, they are caught during it. But they would endeavor not to be with everything in them. And as shown here, many of the boys try to help with that

Warnings: mentions of periods, internalized Misogyny, some gender dissatisfaction (we’ve all been there when curled in a ball and no Advil on hand) and some hinted sexual threats

Lieutenant Sanchez would have rather licked that guard’s boot than admit to her ailment, but the longer his all too observant heckling went on, the more conscious she was of symptoms she’d otherwise surmount by a supreme and long perfected method of productive disassociation.

Keeping her eyes down on her literal cabbage patch, Sanchez tried to pay attention to the rub of her blisters on the rough hewn handle of the garden hoe, anything to forget about the tear pricking pain gnawing at her pelvis. It was an old trick to withstand the forces of hurtling her fighter jet into the blue yonder, to focus on another discomfort, the bite of your tongue, the curl of your toe in your boot, anything over the crucial and foremost discomfort that might throw off your performance. She wasn’t weak, she knew that, but it was impossible not to hold oneself up next to others. Her time in enlistment had only been possible on certain days of the month by crucially provided medications. Now those medication weren’t available and she was half crippled one week out of the month, and there was talk. Talk about how she ever managed to do her job.

She’d done it magnificently.

That’s how she’d done it.

And she’d seen it through until her bird was a fireball in the sky, driven down into her target along with her bombs, one last salvo of equipment, a final “fuck you” to her enemies as they plucked her from the sky. Now she was hoeing sandy earth between cabbage rows with a swimming head and knees that buckled from the intensity of her menstrual cramps.

Lieutenant Sanchez wasn’t very fond of considering herself a woman; it hadn’t gotten her much beyond unwanted restrictions and unasked for attentions. She could not relate to Maureen Kendeigh’s delight in her sex, the way she held court over discomforts and reveled in girlish peculiarities while in camp. Maybe Kendeigh was more confident, stronger, or maybe she’d had a kinder go of life so far, but Sanchez would rather lick that guard’s boot than admit even to her fellow prisoners that she was suffering from female complaints again.

Last time had been complete with a migraine, and there was nothing for it but to lay with her coat sleeve tied around her eyes and blindly grope for the bucket to puke on occasion. Someone had emptied the bucket twice, brought a washcloth and gently told her to “let me” while she’d futilely batted the kindness away.

Sanchez wasn’t looking to recognize her benefactor. Even though she suspected him, he wasn’t getting shit from her. Not even thanks.

She refused to belive that anyone had seen her like that. Just as this guard was never going to get the satisfaction of an admittance of the same. There was no tell-tale blood on her trousers, she was doing her job, the weeds were being churned up by her furious whacks -the Krout Fucker could go pound sand for all she cared. But then again, were it an option, she’d do anything to pause, to straighten, to brace her hands on her hips for a brief respite.

-A posture that had earned her the guard’s first jape.

If she’d mistaken his German jokes about blood and female dogs, she did not misunderstand his gesticulations to his crotch and then her own. The laughter that followed from his fellows haunted her, that little crowd of four standing at a little distance, smoking and mocking, the way her fellow prisoners gave her uneasy looks, the way Ida Brady hauled the water buckets about a few rows down as if she hadn’t bled a child out of herself a little over a month ago.

The woman was ghost-like in her frailty and thinness, but she was strong. Sanchez loathed her for it, for the way she’d managed to be so very discreet about the ultimate female humiliation, the way she seemed so impervious to all the taunts and laughter of the guards about her erstwhile misfortune. The way she could haul buckets and hoe crops without a wince, the way she was respected by the men in spite of it.

“Here, let me.” a large, warm hand folded over Sanchez own white knuckles on the wooden handle, making to take her prop from her.

Same words, same voice, if there was anyone she liked to avoid more than Ida Brady herself, it was her caregiving fairy of a brother. Washcloths over throats or help in Sector B’s shit excuse for a garden, Sanchez didn’t like owing John Brady anything. She gripped her garden implement harder, half to wrestle it back from his presumptuous aid, half because now he was taking it away, she realized how crucial the support was to her remaining upright.

“Think you’ll find this is mine.” she snapped.

“Think maybe you should take a breather.” he leveled back, fingers still curled over hers and for a woman who’d not allowed a single touch all winter, to feel a hand on a hand in springtime was more electric than perhaps it should have been. Or maybe it was those watchfully wise eyes pleading with her through a greasy fringe of brown hair. His eyes were green in the sunlight, or maybe that was his undershirt reflecting.

“I’m fine.” she jerked at it; unnervingly the wood didn’t even budge from his grip -he was strong for a scrawny little fuck with pretty clavicles and no need for a razor.

“These are for you.” Brady’s other hand extended a very quaint little bag in front of her face, domestic and familiar, its label touted seeds for a variety of squash. “To be sewn in between the cabbages, apparently their vines will help block out the weeds. And we can eat them.”

Sanchez took the bag with one hand, her other still trapped beneath his own on the hoe’s handle. “And you’re not smart enough to put seeds in dirt?”

“Sit down and plant them before I make you.” Brady’s tone was the sort Sanchez supposed her father was going for when belligerently ordering her about in her younger, dependant days, -it weakened her knuckles in reflex and suddenly the hoe was out of reach and Brady’s other hand extended as if to help her into some goddamn carriage. “Come on, no one will notice if you stop makin’ a fucking scene.”

Gingerly she put her hand in his and knelt down, winded from the agony of the descending movement despite his supportive grip, but once seated on her knees, she had to admit -to herself, never him- it was better this way.

“There.” he muttered, like he himself had been the one relieved, “You don’t have to be so stubborn. Everybody helps everybody in here.”

Sanchez pondered that, knowing that the bomber girls certainly had a pack of protectors that she had denied herself due to belligerence and not a little annoyance at being blamed for Cleven’s scars. Stubborn, he dared call her stubborn! It made her venomous even as she carefully undid the bag and poured a small quantity of the precious seeds in her palm, “Oh?” she taunted him “Does your harpy of a sister even have female complaints?”

John Brady’s form was excellent even when hoeing a cabbage row and he certainly was making an annoyingly more significant amount of progress compared to Sanchez’s weak limbed efforts of before. “Wanna keep your teeth?” he grunted as his hoe blade blurred near her foot, “Then don’t talk shit about my sister.”

Sanchez found the warm earth and the posture on her knees too comforting to retain her vitriol; she ought to hurl another barb at him but it all seemed a little unimpressive as she realized this was the first spring day she’d really enjoyed: sat here on her knees between cabbage rows with John Brady whacking the earth beside her.

“Huh.” she uttered after a while, having kept pace with his work down the rows, shuffling on her knees and repeating the motions of dig and plant and cover. The crowd of guards had not yet dispersed but the heckles had stopped.

“What?” Her companion grunted.

“Staring at asses seems to be a staple for them, no matter whose ass.”

Brady’s hoe thudded into the earth and stayed there for a beat too long as he met her eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Is it the one with the blonde scruff?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Brady’s hoe went back to work, its wielder not seemingly perturbed.

“Used to that?” she asked him, suddenly discomforted at the realization, which was a new sensation for her -concern for somebody else in this hell hole.

“Yeah.”

“That’s shit.” was all she had to offer, but she eyed the guard in question, and something showing on her face seemed to bother him enough he turned away and began his route through the compound again, cigarette crushed into the earth and dog trailing at his leash.

“Yeah.” Brady assented beside her, unaware of the change. “Lotta things are shit right now.”

“Yeah.” she agreed.

“S’why we need to let each other help.” he sermonized and she was reminded why she found the young captain so aggravating. She also felt an odd impulse to follow him around like those damn guard dogs and snarl at anyone who had shitty intentions.

“Yeah.” She agreed, “Anytime you need to hide a body, I’ll help.”

He turned her a lopsided grin, surprising in its width and brightness, how easily it cracked across his sober face despite the context, “Knew I’d find your currency one day, Sanchez.” he about preened and then they began on another row.