#masters of the air ofc

[noneedtoamputate]

15 for appearance, 5 for objects, 7 for food!

Thanks, Sam.

15. Would your character wear something someone else picked out for them?

Wearing a uniform and not having to decide what to wear every day is maybe the thing Carrie loves most about army life. She is always asking the other WACs for advice about clothes and makeup, and they loving giving it. It's not Carrie's strong point, and most days she doesn't care that much, but she does enjoy dressing up on nights out and weekends in London.

5. Would your character ever try to haggle?

Carrie's family owns a radio and repair, so she understands all about markups. She is never afraid to start offer a price below list.

7. Is there food that has made your character sick?

Maybe not sick enough to vomit, but she's glad there's no Marmite back in Quincy, Illinois.

Ask me a question about my new MotA OFC, Carrie Ingram!

[noneedtoamputate]

Ask me about my Masters of the Air OFC. Her name is Caroline "Carrie" Ingram, and she works as a radio repair tech at Thorpe Abbotts. I have an outline for her intro, but I'm still working on rounding her out. Feel free to use these questions or come up with your own.

🌸My Super Long Hopefully Fun Character Ask Game:

👕Appearance

What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess?

What would your character wear if they were told they had to gussy up?

Is there something about your character's appearance that they would change if possible?

Does your character have a favorite material they like to wear?

What are your character's opinion on scars?

How much interest does your character take in trends?

Is there someone your character tries to look similar to?

Does your character have a physical trait that they're known for?

What does your character smell like?

If your character could splurge on a particular garment, what would it be?

Is your character's favorite color a color they wear often?

Has your character gone through major stylistic or physical changes?

What is something your character would refuse to wear?

Is there a style your character is afraid they can’t pull off?

Would your character wear something someone else picked out for them?

Is your character's appearance more telling or deceiving?

What are your character's thoughts on wearing costumes?

Does your character have a favorite outfit?

If your character had to get a tattoo what would it be?

📦Objects

Is there an item your character doesn't like to leave without?

What gift would your character give to someone they didn't like but felt obligated to?

What type of object is likely to catch your character's attention?

Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back? 

Would your character ever try to haggle?

What is something your character is proud to own?

Does your character ever spend more than they have?

What would it take for your character to give up an item they really like?

Does your character prefer to give or receive gifts?

Is there a type of object your character doesn’t like?

What might an acquaintance think is a good gift for your character?

Does your character personify objects?

What does your character most enjoy shopping for?

Is there an item your character is embarrassed they own or want?

Would your character prefer something bought or made personally?

Is your character willing to ask for things?

What is most important to your character when shopping?

🍽️Food and Drink

What flavor would your character say their personality is?

Would your character prefer baking, cooking or mixing drinks?

Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try?

How big is your character's appetite?

Does your character consider eating fun?

Would your character eat or drink something they didn't like to appease someone?

Is there food that has made your character sick?

What is your character's favorite food group?

Does your character like to try new foods?

What is a childhood meal your character cherishes?

Is your character food motivated?

Which mealtime is your character's favorite?

How much does your character care about wasting food?

Does your character prefer restaurant food or home cooked food?

What food or drink does your character consider a treat?

Is there a food texture your character doesn't like?

What kind of drinks does your character prefer?

🌤️Weather and Nature

What would your character do if they were suddenly caught in the rain?

Has your character had a meaningful encounter with an animal?

What season would your character say they're most similar to?

Is there a natural phenomenon that scares your character?

Has your character ever had an animal phase?

Would your character enjoy sky gazing?

Does your character have a good sense of direction?

What type of environment does your character like best?

Is your character good with animals?

How would your character react to snow?

What part of nature would your character most resonate with?

Could your character survive in the wilderness on their own for a week or more?

What element best represents your character?

Does your character prefer hot or cold weather?

Is there a creature that scares your character?

What celestial body would interest your character the most?

Is your character good with plants?

How willing would your character be to nap outside?

What animal would your character say best represents them?

🤝Community and Relationships

Does your character prefer company or solitude when sick?

What is your character's favorite kind of social event?

How comfortable would your character be singing and dancing in front of others?

Is your character upfront about their feelings?

Who would your character first seek if they needed medical help?

How willing would your character be to go to a party with people they don't know?

Who is your character most honest with?

How likely is it for your character to initiate a friendship?

Where is your character's comfort place?

Is there a habit your character has that they learned from someone else?

Does your character have people they think would worry about them if they got injured?

How would your character react to being put in a position of leadership?

Would your character be good at providing medical assistance?

Who would your character say knows them best?

Is there a person your character would turn to for backup in a fight?

Who would your character most want to sign their cast if they got one?

How well does your character work with others?

What is your character's favorite form of affection?

Does your character enjoy celebrating holidays?

What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

💓Mind, Body and Soul

What is a habit your character has that others might find cute?

Are there particular sounds your character is fond of?

Is your character more prone to fight or flight?

Does your character believe in myths and fairy tales?

What words could tear your character down?

How well does your character act under pressure?

Is your character good at practicing self-care?

What scents does your character find comforting?

Does your character have any allergies?

Is your character a light, medium or heavy sleeper?

Does your character have strong willpower?

Is your character more likely to give advice or seek it?

How does your character relax?

Is there a secret thing your character longs to hear?

Does your character have a sleep routine?

Would your character feel confident in a fight?

Is your character more energized in the morning, afternoon or at night?

How often does your character have nightmares?

Are there scents your character dislikes?

Is there a fear your character wants to learn to overcome?

If your character had to act in a play what role would they think they’d best perform?

Does your character have a high pain tolerance?

🎲 Hobbies and Activities

What kind of games does your character most enjoy playing?

Does your character have a secret hobby?

What is a talent your character wishes they had?

Is there an activity your character used to enjoy that they now dislike?

Which does your character try to prioritize more, work or hobbies?

Does your character work better with creative or technical endeavors?

What is a talent that your character is proud of?

Is your character more outdoorsy or indoorsy?

What is a topic your character would be excited to talk about? 

Is there a skill your character doesn’t know they’re bad at?

Does your character have any injury stories?

What kind of music does your character enjoy?

Has your character ever made something for themselves or someone else?

What is your character’s opinion on cheating in games?

How good is your character at following through on projects?

What’s an activity that reminds your character of someone else?

Does your character prefer music or silence?

What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

[mcnicecream]

high school

[alienoresimagines]

Bucky: *on the phone* Hey, Buck, do you know my blood type? Buck: Of course, it's AB. Bucky: Oh, I guessed wrong. Excuse me, nurse-

[4o4notf0und]

MASTERS OF THE AIR ✈︎ part 2

[lostloveletters]

Love Like an Ache in the Jaw (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Kate "Woody" Woodward isn't quite sure what to make of love when she's finally got it, presented to her with unwavering devotion by the freshly promoted Captain John Brady.

Note: This is an expanded version of With a Rose Between Your Teeth (Is That Blood in Your Mouth for Me?) Title comes from Sweet Dreams, TN by The Last Shadow Puppets. Also, a million thanks to Kara @karasnonsense99 for letting me ramble about these two all the time ilysm🖤 Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies. Depictions of blood. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (m. receiving).

The shining double bars on his collar said it all, catching the sunlight as he walked over to her on the tarmac. Unprecedented pride bubbled up in Woody’s stomach at the sight of him, and for a careless moment, she allowed it to boil over into a congratulatory kiss on his cheek. John didn’t protest, his hands on her waist, kissing her as best as he could with his lips pulled into a smile. Whispered about going out that night to celebrate. Not alone. Never alone, but typically with good enough company that she didn’t mind.

They were joined by most of his crew, guys she’d gotten to know well enough by virtue of hanging around John, but she managed to talk Darla into coming along when Holly declined her invitation, a regretful tiredness in her smile when she insisted Woody go out without her. But her fellow mechanic was fun, if not a little rowdy—perfect for a night of celebrating.

In all honesty, the night panned out to be a bit tamer than she’d been expecting. She zoned out from Hoerr and Hambone’s argument over whether Rita Hayworth or Betty Grable had better legs. John didn’t hesitate to input his preference for Hayworth, something Woody occasionally teased him about, asking if she should dye her hair red just to watch his ears burn the same color. Always muttered something about liking her the best, taking her into his arms and kissing her as if she needed the reassurance she wouldn’t lose him to the likes of the bombshell actress.

No, the conversation being held behind them caught her attention, a man musing at the billiards table over finding someone to play eight-ball with, having just been paid and ready to supplement his payday. Her fingers twitched as she brought her cigarette to her lips, inhaling as her mind raced. She’d played plenty stateside, back when she was still going by Kate.

Woody wasn’t sure what the hell he meant by quid, but her serpentine confidence slithered over the necessity of understanding exactly how much was on the table. When the car business was slow, hustling pool had been her next best bet. Good enough that she was sure even after two years of eschewing such habits, she would come out on top. 

She turned around in her seat, and before she could stop herself, said, “I’ll play you.”

An RAF pilot and his buddies. They shared incredulous looks, snickering amongst themselves until one chuckled, “That would hardly be a fair game.”

“Double it.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

The corners of her lips twitched, and she snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray in the middle of the table as she stood up. “Whatever you’re betting, double it, if you’re so sure.”

The voices at the table fell to a hush, and she felt John’s fingers brush the small of her back through her blouse, as if to give her an out if she wanted. Too late. She let the beast rear its ugly head, forked tongue and all, as she stared down the pilot. He relented, holding out the pool cue for her. Probably figured it’d be an easy win. Line his pockets with her misguided cockiness.

Woody grabbed the cue. Watched with curiosity as they set up the rack, placing the eight ball at the foot instead of in the middle. Licked her lips as she realized there may have been differences in the way the British played than how she was used to, but she wasn’t about to betray her own ignorance by asking what exactly the rules were.

Instead, with a deceptively bored-sounding self assurance asked, “So am I stripes or solids?”

He considered her for a moment. “Stripes.” Motioned to the table. “Ladies first.”

She scoffed, cooly rolling her eyes at his false chivalry as she leaned over to break the rack. Spared a glance at John, his arms folded across his chest, watching her with an intensity that nearly sent a shiver down her spine. She hit the cue ball, sending stripes and solids across the felted table.

Standing up straight, she followed the striped ten as it rolled into a corner pocket. Missed the next one, but so did the pilot, and it was her turn again. She made up for her sloppy performance with nine and twelve in another corner pocket. 

Woody stalked around the table and leaned over in front of John, making a bit more of a show than was necessary in shifting her hips to make the hit. Fourteen in the middle pocket. Looked over at him, the slightest smile on her face when they locked eyes. Everything else faded into the background, white noise and static compared to the way he was looking at her. 

Acutely aware of his attention, drinking in the sight of her as she leaned over every so often, deliberately biting her lip or sticking her tongue between her teeth just to see his reaction, playing a different game entirely by the time she hit all of the stripes into the pockets, finally finishing off the eight ball.

Darla laughed. “Goddamn Woody, I didn’t know you could play like that.”

“She must’ve cheated somehow,” the pilot said dismissively to his friends, as if she weren’t even there.

“Jesus Christ, these guys,” Hambone muttered.

“There’s no way she could have cheated,” John said. “Be a man and pay up.”

“Or what?”

Woody shot him a glare, leaning against the cue. ��Or I’ll shove this up your—”

It happened so fast. Too fast. Before she could even blink, a wad of spit landed on her face. 

John grabbed Woody’s shoulder, pushing her behind him. Scraping chairs and mangled shouts drowned out the music playing from the jukebox. She wiped the spit off of her cheek with the back of her hand, cringing as she shook it out. Her stomach sank. Why the fuck did she say that? Lost herself for just a minute, let herself be the person she tried to leave behind in San Francisco, and it all went to shit, like everything Kate touched tended to do at some point.

Her eyes frantically searched for John in the fight that erupted. The sinking feeling in her stomach warped into something else entirely at the sight of him, taking a punch to his jaw before throwing a solid one in return. Always found guys who fought for their girls teeming with unearned bravado, something to prove. But John’s bravado had been wholly earned. Proved himself with his promotion to Captain, which he was putting in jeopardy on her behalf. More than that, it looked good on him.

Still, she wouldn't let him bear the brunt of her mistake if she could help it. She shuffled forward, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face as she grabbed his arm.

“John, come on! He’s an idiot!”

She practically had to wrestle him away from the chaos and into the bathroom. A cramped space with peeling paint and a naked lightbulb that almost didn’t let her close the door behind them until she forced it shut.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

Water poured freely from the faucet. She watched as he splashed some in his mouth, swishing it between puffed up cheeks. 

“People might think we’re in love or something.”

He spit into the sink. Water pink with blood pooled at the rusty drain. It dripped from his chin as he stared her down with blown out pupils, reflecting her own unspoken desire. “We are.”

She reached out and wiped his chin with the pad of her thumb. Glanced at the glistening residue on her finger before sticking it in her mouth, letting the faint coppery taste settle sweetly on her tongue. 

“Yeah. We are.” 

And all at once she was consumed by it, the fiery desolation of being loved and loving in return. Made her skin burn, feel more alive than she had in months. No wonder it made people go crazy. Like him, her calm and collected pilot who suddenly didn’t hesitate to throw punches over a woman with no honor to defend except for the fact that he loved her. 

He loved her.

She kissed him with a ferocity that forced him to grip the sink to keep himself steady. The faint traces of blood still in his mouth sent an almost vampiric fervor through her. Brought her hand up to his neck and felt the way his Adam’s apple bobbed at her touch. Always privately lamented that she couldn’t mark up his throat the way she desperately wanted to, sink her teeth into him and let everyone know he was hers.

She wanted more of him. Always more. Lowered her hands to unbuckle his belt.

“Sweetheart, what are you—”

“Got that handsome face of yours roughed up over me,” she rasped, pressing her lips to his jaw as she unzipped his pants. “‘S the least I can do, Johnny.”

He uttered a low ‘fuck’ as he watched her drop to her knees in the tight space. Nuzzled her nose against his crotch, the dim lighting nearly concealing the playful smile that's spread across her lips. She pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees. He swallowed roughly, licking his lips in anticipation. 

She spit into her palm, then took his cock in her hand, wet and calloused as she pumped his length. Pressed a kiss to his head before wrapping her lips around it, her tongue warm and inviting. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his blunt nails scratching against her scalp. 

She watched him intently, his face contorting with pleasure as she took more of him in her mouth. Noticed with obsessive observation what made him moan louder or tug on her hair a little harder. All of the noises he made echoed in the cramped space, and only served to drive her wild, give her more motivation to bring him to climax. 

Her fingernails pressed crescent-shaped marks into his thighs when he thrust in her mouth. Didn’t matter that her jaw started to ache a little, lips were probably swollen and puffy. She wanted him to feel good, to know how much he meant to her, to use the memory of her on her knees in any fantasy he conjured up for himself in his private moments. She wanted to be it for him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he forced out, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m close.”

She choked a bit when he thrust harder, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat. It twitched against her tongue, pulsing and veiny, his length almost too much for her to handle when he came, her name falling from his lips like a prayer though she was the one on her knees.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised as she swallowed his cum, fondly stroking her messy blonde hair. “Such a good fucking girl.” Her body purred at his words, claiming her with a gentle ownership she keened at the thought of. 

She figured she loved him for much longer than just that night, except she hadn’t realized because it felt so different from the way other people described it. Not particularly soft or sweet, but it made her feel powerful, alive.  Like staring down everything she feared and finally feeling able to conquer it all instead of running—she was so damn tired of running.

He offered his hand, pulling her up from the floor. His lips brushed her cheek, adoration pouring from the simple gesture of affection. “I love you,” he whispered against her warm skin.

“I love you too.”

Woody leaned against the door, catching her breath as John pulled his pants back on. Took a look at himself in the mirror, straightening himself out to appear every bit of the no-nonsense Captain who had her wrapped around his finger. 

Turning around, he gave her a once over, taking in her ragged appearance in comparison.

“Your nylons—“

She looked down, finding a tear at the knee. “I don’t give a damn. Let’s just get outta here, Johnny.”

“You sure?”

“We can sneak out the back and spend the rest of the night alone. They all probably think we left already.”

“Sounds like you have somewhere in mind.”

Woody smiled, turning the knob to crack the door open, checking if anyone would notice the two of them slipping out together. Taking his hand in hers, she gently squeezed it. “I might.”

[wexhappyxfew]

crash landings and all

(a/n): to my annie x brady girlies, here is the piece i’ve since promised and since fallen in love with!!! featuring annie, brady, coffee cups and the rising sun + some heartfelt talks about reality. and of course all those emotions annie doesn’t really need but feels instead. enjoy!

It was 0600 and she couldn't sleep.

But this had been happening far too many times in the past few weeks for her to ignore it and call it nerves, or worry, or any other bothersome symptom that would have one of the girls nudging her and asking her if she was okay.

Which she was, alright?

Or she was at least trying to tell herself that.

When there were mornings without missions, that's usually when she would come and sit out, just outside of the mess hall, and stare out towards where the B-17s sat, silhouetted against the purple and pink skyline as the sun began to appear. She'd usually sit there for about an hour, before she started seeing people moving about, and then she'd disappear inside, grab herself a coffee, avoid one of Major Egan's horrible jokes in the morning, and then be on her way to her crew, or to Silver Bullets, or to anything really - to distract herself, get her mind active, get her brain focused on something other than the worry.

This morning was no different - beautiful as the early dawn was, it was also incredibly reflective. She'd sit in the silence, the only noise the breeze in the trees and past her ears, the birds beginning to wake up and sing. It was usually a lot of her convincing herself things were fine and that everything was okay. That she was okay. But usually that didn't last very long and she was off worrying about one of the girls, or that one damn engine on Silver Bullets, or better yet if Lemmons had screwed that one bolt in enough. It kind of ate her alive at the worst of times.

"Hey." Annie looked up and found, stepping down onto the step, and nestling in beside her was Brady, an outstretched hand with a steaming mug of coffee opposite her, and a tired smile on his face.

"Hey," Annie said, trying to hide her surprise and current spiral that she thought was normally drawn across her face, "you're up early. Thanks." She took the coffee and watched as he settled beside her with a sigh, sipping at his own cup of coffee and glanced her way.

"I could say the same about you." he said back, his voice still waking up it seemed from sleep, knocking her shoulder gently. Annie watched him, the first rays of the morning son painting his face a beautiful golden with his eyes and she nodded.

"Couldn't sleep." she told him honestly, "Haven't been sleeping too well anyway, so. What's not to lose with a sunrise, you know?" Brady watched her for a moment, his lanky knees bent up to his chest, the mug resting on his kneecap and his expression quiet.

"Something worrying you?" he asked her, seemingly the first assumption of many on this base - was something worrying her? The sun would shine and she'd be worried, she'd be sat at a table and someone would cough and she'd think she'd have to get the doctor, someone would come in with a headache and she'd assume the worst. So, yeah, maybe there was something wrong, but she wasn't about to spill that to Brady at 0600 in the morning.

"I just worry about the girls, you know how it is. Making sure people are sleeping, eating, feeling okay, not feeling too homesick they're bedridden. That their letters get sent, get read, they get comforted, listened to." Annie said, "Just making sure they're keeping what smiles they can on their faces." Brady caught her gaze as she glanced his way and she found a small smile lingering on her lips.

"It's just what I have to do. Make sure things work like a well-oiled machine." she told him honestly, sipping at the coffee, "I must say, you know how to make a coffee taste good." Brady smirked slightly, a bit of a laugh escaping his mouth, before he looked at her.

"I'm glad you like it," he told her, his voice tender, "but don't try to worry yourself over your crew. They're a good group of ladies flying a B-17. And they've got a great pilot to lead 'em."

"Thanks, John."

"Just make sure you keep an eye on yourself, alright," Brady said, leaning into her side a bit, causing her to glance his way, "you're a part of that crew and just as important." He spoke with a gentle ease of tone, but equally just as serious, like he was coaxing someone to calm down.

"John Brady, you are full of compliments this morning." Annie said quietly, sipping her coffee and peering at him over the edge of coffee cup, just in time to watch his ears flame red a bit and he gulped and smiled at her.

"I don't lie." he told her and Annie grinned and held his gaze for a moment.

"Humor me then," Annie said and a brief moment of reflection passed over Brady's face, "Croz sort of let it out, about those 'mechanical failures' when he mistook France for England…..what was that about…..?" Annie watched him expectantly and Brady's ears flamed a deeper red to the point it spread to his cheeks.

"Supposedly you covered for Croz, real gentlemanly, too, I must admit." Annie said, "Lying to Major Egan of all people, John Brady, I wouldn't suspect such a thing." Brady chuckled at her words and shook his head.

"I was putting it how it was," Brady said, "God, it was embarrassing though. In front of both Buck and Bucky. Land the plane on its belly, Croz vomiting just below, the thing about to blow up but it doesn't, our first introduction to the base. You do what you gotta do for the crew. I was a bit of a shithead to Croz, but to be flying over France -Nazi-occupied France - it wasn't the most pleasant." Annie smiled, watching him as he spoke.

Knowing how he cared how he flew, how he coped. He was so fluent in what he thought and believed, right and truthful. Caring, gentle, but firm and purposeful in his speech.

"The worst was that belly-landing though," Brady said, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee, "that was horrible." Annie watched as Brady seemed to relive it for a moment. She bit back her lip and then reached a hand forward and placed it on the sleeve of his wrist, the touch warm and welcoming and causing their eyes to meet.

"I crashed an AT-6 when I was doing hours for my license." Annie said - she had never dared to tell a soul such a thing, she wanted to take that to the grave, bury it, hide the humiliation. She'd jumped out of it like she was losing her mind, a lunatic sprinting across the base, with her hair ends crispy and black, her blonde hair suffering from the smoldering smoke, looking more monster than woman in that moment. Not her finest, but it had taught her a whole lot of lessons. Brady watched her for a moment, surprised.

"You?" Brady said with a nod, "Crashed not only a plane, but an AT-6? No, I don't believe you." Annie could get his joking tone pretty solid by this point and instead laughed at his words, leaning back to wrap her slightly cold fingertips around the mug and nodded.

"I did in fact crash-land it. Crazed eyes, hair-on-fire and all." Annie said and Brady watched her as if amazed.

"I must admit, it's hard for me to picture that because you're one of the best pilots I've ever met." Brady said and if she were honest, they both looked surprised as that came out of his mouth, but he was quickly talking next and she took a moment to relive those words.

"I mean, you look so calm and collected….what…what happened to warrant that?" he said, leaning a bit closer, evidently interested in the tale that had her losing her mind for weeks after.

"Truth be told, me learning to fly was like telling a fish to live in a tree," Annie said watching as Brady chuckled, "I wasn't always….this." She pointed to her face and Brady smirked.

"Oh c'mon, you're a goddamn good pilot, Annie, really." Brady said, and then smiled, "Go on though." Annie sent him a look with a playful smirk.

"You, asshole." she said and nudged his shoulder, "Don't try to get back at me with that or something in the future."

"Never, my lips are sealed." Brady said, sending her a wink - why would he do that at six am when she's somewhat still fogged with sleep and brain exhaustion.

"Anyway," Annie said, catching his smile again, "all the engines crapped out on me as I was coming in for the landing, the tower was telling me to eject, ejector was jammed, and the wheels were stuck at 45 degrees. So, I did what I could, braced myself and the thing slid across about hundreds of feet of sand before tilting to the side, me pouring out like Ma's soup for dinner. It was so bad, and horrifically embarrassing. God."

"Hey," Brady said, leaning into her peripheral, "'least you can say you know how it's done." Annie let out a laugh at his words then and there, her heart feeling warm for one of the first mornings sat out here; usually alone and now in good company.

"I mean, it wasn't the first time I even crashed landed." Brady offered with a shoulder shrug. Annie stared at him, trying to keep the smile from her lips.

"You're joking."

"Wish I was, Annie," Brady said, "back in training, went down, Croz could tell you all about it. Became pretty well-known among the base and the training groups." He smiled.

"But," he said, "'least I can say I did it." Annie let out a laugh, clasping a hand over her mouth as she glanced at him and watched him chuckle, his eyes glowing in the morning sun that was slowly peaking its way over the horizon line.

"You should join me for mornings like this more often," Annie said quietly, looking out towards the sunlight, "get some things off your chest. It's why I do well….usually alone, but it helps me think. Through things like that." She looked over and met his gaze and smiled. His expressions in the early morning were so much gentler than at dinner, and it almost made her wish he could stay like that forever in some selfish way. All of them, truth be told.

"I think I will," Brady said, "I'm glad you like the coffee. I wasn't sure what you went for, but….you seemed like a cream type of person."

"You either are really good as guessing or someone snitched." Annie said, catching Brady smirking.

"Nah, Bessie was in there the other day getting coffee for you two. I know she drinks straight black and was wondering who the hell she'd be getting a coffee full of creamer for so…." Brady admitted, glancing her way, "I hope you enjoy it." Annie looked to the cup of coffee and took another lingering sip. She wanted to stay like this for a while, freeze time maybe. But that would never be such a thing in their lives.

"We should take a spin together some time," Annie said looking towards him, a smile growing on her lips, "if you ever wanted to be in Silver Bullets when she gets going in the air. You could be my co-pilot." Brady watched her, his face still for a moment, held in a graceful balance of seriousness and surprise and then the corner of his lips ticked upwards.

"I think Francis would drop-kick me from the cockpit." Brady whispered quietly to her and Annie chuckled.

"She'd be fine with it, I swear to you," Annie said, "maybe not anytime soon, as long as we're going up, dropping bombs and all. But maybe when this whole thing ends. And we just get to be. When we get to go home." Looking over, she found Brady already watching her. Home, seemed to echo in her mind the longer she held his gaze.

"Hey! That you Brady?" Annie watched Brady turn away from her face and glance behind her, her own gaze following to find Crank coming towards them, waving an arm, "Buck's been trying to get a-hold of you!" Brady nodded and then looked back at her, a sudden shift in whatever it was that existed between them. He slowly got to his feet, brushed off his pants and then stopped to lean down towards her ear.

"I'd love to be your co-pilot," Brady whispered, sending chills up her neck, "ma'am." Then, he was up and off, sending her cheeks flaming red, her eyes going over her shoulder, as he went and caught up to Crank, shaking his hand and nodding to him, exchanging all the pleasantries. Annie caught his eyes one final time as he glanced back at her. He winked.

[blixabargelds]

superstar track 10 and b-side 10.5

[blakelysco-pilot]

The Way I Am

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

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

The realities of war begin to dig their way under the skin of the men and women at Thorpe Abbotts, leaving some with more on their shoulders than they'd care to carry. New and existing friendships help to brighten a dark day, while Val and Everett admit truth's they can only say to each other. Featuring @winniemaywebber's Olive Lewis from the Honeysuckle Rose series.

Part Two Follow along with the Eight To The Bar Playlist

Non-mision days were, naturally, a favorite of those who lived on Thorpe Abbotts airbase. A lot of the boys would still go up for practice missions, but it would leave a lot less what-if’s and nerves on the ground because the Luftwaffe was nowhere to be found, and the only thing they needed to worry about was taking off and landing safely. Those days, the Red Cross girls would still set up the Clubmobile for the boys, greeting them with coffee and donuts and a friendly smile as they trekked out to the hardstand. Today, almost all of the boys were going up on a practice run. They had already seen Brady and the  M’lle Zig Zig crew, Bucky and the crew of Mugwump, followed directly by Buck Cleven and Our Baby. Benny DeMarco had lingered at the truck, the pilot infatuated with the newest Red Cross girl, Olive. Olive had seemingly come out of nowhere, according to Tattie, but the girls had wasted no time at all in taking her in, despite her accent and dry British humor, she fit in like a missing puzzle piece amongst them. 

When Benny had asked if the girls would be willing to keep an eye on Meatball while they went up for practice, Olive was first out of the truck to greet the husky. Val suspected it was so that he didn’t actually go inside of the truck and make a mess of things like he somehow tended to do. When he got restless, Olive had offered to take him for a walk, and since it had been quiet, Val had ushered Helen off as well to keep Olive company. Tattie had taken the jeep to go pick up supplies for the truck on the other side of the base, which left Val alone. 

“You running the show alone today?”

Val looked up from where she was reading her copy of Screen Romances to find Ev and Douglass standing in front of the Clubmobile. Dougie’s hands on his hips, a wide smile stretching across his mouth. 

“Is my favorite Flyboy and his bombardier bringing up the rear today?” She smiled upon seeing them, her gaze immediately finding Everett’s from behind his aviators. 

“Just coffee if you can spare it, Val.” Douglass requested, politely declining the donut she had pointed to. 

“Oh, it’s okay for me to make you coffee again? I don’t need to go find Olive for you? She teased, already moving to pour him coffee from the carafe. Benny DeMarco wasn’t the only one who had taken a shine to Olive. 

“I saw her on my way over,” He shook his head, but the smile remained. “She was with Helen and Meatball.”

“DeMarco asked us to keep an eye on him while you boys went up today, so the two of them took him for a walk.”

Val reached through the hatch with his coffee, the handoff seamless as he accepted the coffee, the cup immediately coming up to his lips. 

“You’ve got the magic touch, Val.” He hummed, eyes closed in satisfaction. 

“I won't tell Olive you said that.” She rolled her eyes with a shake of her head as he gave her a half hearted salute and cheeky smile, before turning and heading towards the hardstands.  

Everett remained by the truck, flight gear and sheepskin jacket making him look every bit the pilot that she knew him to be. He was squinting up at her in the early morning sun, sunglasses now hanging from the pocket of his jacket. Even with his crush cap on, the sun was in his eyes. He looked like a little boy when he did that, and Val couldn’t help but find him utterly adorable. 

“Coffee for the road, handsome?” She grinned, holding a cup up, nodding her head towards the back of the truck where the doors were open. 

He smiled and moved around, meeting her at the back and stepping up on the first step, as she came to stand in front of him. 

“Hmm did you make it the way I like it?” 

“You mean, did I leave it black? Yes, Everett, I did.” 

“Someone woke up on the sassy side of the bed this morning.” He watched as she pulled her hand back, holding the coffee away from him. 

“This is going to cost you, Captain.”  She grinned. 

“Oh yeah? How much then, Miss Val?”

“Hmmm I’m thinking it’s at least worth a good morning kiss.” 

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I refused payment?” 

Stepping up one more step, he came as close as he could so she wouldn’t have to lean down, and gently, carefully, dropped a hand to her waist to steady her before planting his lips on hers. The kiss was quick, but not without feeling. The pair were very much aware that they were on working hours when he was flying and she was at the truck, so they tried not to get too carried away. But, still, he hated to go up if only for practice, without giving her a proper goodbye. 

“Payment accepted.” Val grinned as they parted, her hand falling to rest over his that remained on her waist, the other handing over his coffee before she spilled it. 

“Thank you,” His smile was wide as he took the cup from her hand, taking a sip and sighing as the liquid warmed him. “Perfect.”

“I don’t see how, there’s nothing in it!” She eyed his coffee skeptically. 

“I wasn’t talking about the coffee, sweetheart.”

“Oh, well, in that case I’m inclined to agree with you.”

He was about to reply when Douglass appeared around the back of the truck, head sticking out from behind where the doors were open, just over Everett’s shoulder. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying getting to drink my coffee but, we can’t get moving without the pilot, pal.”

“Dougie, you have the worst timing.” Ev sighed, shaking his head as Val laughed at the pair. Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if they were the couple and she was just third wheeling. 

“Go on,” She urged him, stepping down from the truck to guide him towards where he needed to be. “You have to fly and I need to clean up here.”

“I’ll see you later, yea?” He dropped a quick kiss to her cheek just to see her smile again.

“Yes, either after you get back or at the club later with the girls. Now, be safe up there, okay?”

“You have my word.” He nodded. 

“You have mine, too!” Douglass joined in.

“Christ sake,” She shook her head. “Both of you get a move on, I don’t want to hear Harding bellowing about how I held you up.” 

At that, both boys turned, coffee in hand, and made their way to the hardstand to prep for their practice mission. 

Climbing back into the Clubmobile, she began to clean up what she could; covering the donuts with a towel, and wiping down the counter so that it was free of any spilled milk or sugar. Once she was satisfied, and knew Tattie would be too, she promptly parked herself back in front of her magazine to pick up where she left off. 

“Jeez, Val, don’t look so busy!”

Looking up she found Jack Kidd and Chick Harding, the taller of the men giving her his signature sarcastic scowl, which she was always happy to return. Ever since Bucky had been demoted from Air Exec, Jack seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face with most of the men. He had tried, once, to use it on her when he caught her and Ev saying goodbye at the truck, but Val had turned and given it back as good as she got. Jack had very quickly learned that while Tattie was in charge of the Red Cross girls, Val was the muscle, and if she was mad at you, heaven help the poor soul. Helen was starting to think Val and Jack just made faces at each other to see who could look meaner at this point, because it never lasted long before one of them broke and cracked a real smile.

“Wake up with a bug up your ass again, Jack?” She smirked, closing the magazine and leaning on her elbows out the hatch. 

“I’m here and not home so, yea.”

“Aww, well, loosen up and I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Harding stood, amused, watching the two seemingly square off, before Val broke first, offering a genuine smile that Jack returned. At that, Chick stepped up to the hatch to get her attention. 

“Valencia…”

“Chicky…”

“Jesus,” he huffed around his cigar, smoke billowing around him at her use of his unauthorized nickname. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Chicky.”

Behind him, Kidd snickered, but quickly covered it with a cough. 

“Valencia…” Harding warned. 

“Fine…” It was long and drawn out. “You boys want coffee? I’ve got a few donuts left too.”

“Please,” Harding spoke, the words muffled around his cigar. “Why are you out here by yourself?”

“Helen and Olive took Meatball for a walk, and Tattie should be back any minute now. She took the jeep for supplies.”

“That damn dog get near the donuts again?” Harding tried to lift the towel she had placed over them, eyeing up the treats. 

“No, he did not get near them.”

“Good, I’ll take one then.”

Shaking her head, she handed him his coffee and donut before she turned her attention to Jack. Before she could ask him what he wanted the sound of Tattie on the jeep filled the air. 

“You two playing nice?” Tattie looked between Jack and Val. 

“Yes, Tattie, don’t worry,” Kidd chuckled. “I know when I’m beat.”

Grinning, the brunette stepped off the jeep, the back loaded with supplies for the Clubmobile. 

“Give me a second Tat and I’ll come help ya!” Val called out to her. 

Nodding, Tattie grabbed the small box that had been resting on the front seat next to her and made her way into the Clubmobile, while Val finished up with the boys. 

“Jack? Coffee?”

“Sure, Val, thanks.”

“Remind me again…”

“Just black.”

Nodding with a smile, Val poured him a cup, leaving it black. Plucking a donut from the tray, she handed him both, waving him off when he tried to protest at the donut. 

“Go on, I can’t let them go to waste.”

“Appreciate it,” Kidd nodded. “You taking the rest out to the ground crew?”

“That’s the plan.” 

“Good, those boys are working hard.”

With that, Chick and Jack gave her a wave before walking off back towards the control tower, where she had assumed Red was waiting for them. Watching them go, she quickly exited the truck and made her way to the jeep to help Tattie unload the boxes she had picked up. Helen and Olive should have been back, but knowing they had Meatball, it might have been a small blessing that they could unload the jeep without the husky getting under their feet for a bit. 

“Red Cross sent more rations. Coffee and fixings to make more donuts for us,” Tattie groaned, lifting a box and walking it to the truck. “Looks like we’ve got enough sugar to get us through the next month or two at least.”

“That’ll keep the fellas happy.” She agreed. 

“Nicked a few sweets for us girls, too.” Tattie winked as she stopped by the truck. 

“Your last name does have its advantages.” Val laughed, giving the scarf tied around her head a quick fix. 

“Mhmm, and you wouldn’t have been able to sweet talk the supply officer into a few Hershey bars?”

Before Val could reply, the sound of an engine far too close to where it should have been sounded above them, followed by a crash. The sound of the Land Girls screaming, and flames igniting in the trees out by the perimeter of the base caught their attention immediately, their faces turning to panic. 

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” 

“Did you see what tail number it was?”

“No, I can’t see anything except smoke.”

“Get in the Jeep, come on.”

Tattie wasted no time jumping back behind the wheel, Val practically throwing herself into the seat beside her as they sped off to the hardstand. The fear was rising deep within her chest the closer they got, and she had to will herself to believe that Everett and his crew were not the ones ignited in flames somewhere in the trees. As if someone had their hand around her throat with no intention of letting up, she drew in ragged and uneven breaths. 

“Val… deep breath doll, come on…” Tattie’s voice sounded far away, like she was underwater and couldn’t break through the surface. 

“You girls shouldn’t be out here!” Ken Lemmons yelled as soon as Tattie parked the jeep by the Ground Crew. 

“Kenny…” Val turned to him with wide eyes, and the nineteen year old had never seen someone he considered a spitfire, look so terrified. 

“It’s Baynard and his crew.” He sighed, knowing her question before she had even asked it. 

“Jesus…” The relief she felt melded with the sadness that slammed into her as she remembered handing Baynard and his Navigator their coffee that morning. He was one of the newer kids- anyone younger than her was a kid in her eyes- and hadn’t even flown a first mission yet. 

“Took a turn too early and went into a dive, couldn’t pull himself out of it.”

“He was just a kid…” Val shook her head, trying to understand just how the world could be so cruel. 

Tattie’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, and when Val turned to look at her friend, she noticed that she looked just as upset as she felt. The boys liked to joke that the girls could be the last pretty face they ever saw, and the reality of it seemed to hit the pair on them with the force of a thousand B-17’s. 

“Tattie, let’s uh, let’s get back to the truck and let the boys uhm…”

“Yea, yea alright.” She put the jeep back into gear, and the two women sped off back towards the Clubmobile. 

When they returned, the boxes they hadn’t finished unloading remained on the grass, Helen and Olive standing amongst them with Meatball eagerly sniffing at them. 

“What the hell happened out there!” Olive yelled over the engine of the jeep. 

“Baynard, he uh… him and his crew they…”

“Fuck sake! That was them?”

“Yea, it was them.” Val stepped out of the jeep with a sigh, immediately letting it support her body weight. 

“We just saw them this morning…” Helen sighed, body slumped back against the Clubmobile. 

Val could only nod, the fear that had her in a chokehold slowly beginning to subside. To think it could have been Everett, or Curt, had made her blood run cold. The idea of losing either of them was a reality she prayed to god she never had to face. 

“Val? You alright?” Helen was suddenly in front of her, Val’s hand in her own, the woman trying to meet her eyes. 

“Yea… just, scared shitless if I’m being honest.”

“Oh honey, I know…”

“Could have been either of them, Helen. And I’m not keen on being alone.”

“Oh chicken, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got us.” Olive joined them, taking Val’s other hand in her own, a soft smile on her face. 

“I need to get used to being called chicken as a term of endearment.” Val laughed, dropping her head to Olive’s shoulder. 

“There we go,” Olive grinned. “Feeling better?”

Nodding, Val pushed off from the jeep, moving to help with the rest of the boxes so that they could close up the truck and head off to the mess for lunch. 

“Meatball! No!!” 

The three girls looked over to where Tattie was standing, hands on her hips, as Meatball ripped into one of the boxes with his teeth. 

“I’m going to kill DeMarco…” she sighed. 

——————————————————————————————————

Exiting the Red Cross hut, Val and Olive were surprised to see Curt waiting outside for them. The pilot was dressed sharp, grinning from ear to ear as the girls spotted him. 

“Can I walk ya to the club, Val?”

“You can; I’m hard pressed to ask what you want, Curt.”

“Honest to God, just wanna walk ya.”

“Curt?”

“Helen told me you were a bit rattled after today, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright…”

Val stopped walking, turning to face Curt with a soft smile. 

“Olive, I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” She nodded. “I’ll save your seat.”

“Thanks.” Val turned to her friend, watching as she walked across to the club, immediately intercepted by Benny who had been waiting outside with Meatball. 

Turning back to Curt, she saw him fidgeting with his sleeves before finding her gaze again. 

“Curt, I’m alright. Honest…”

“Nah, I know you’re alright but, I wanted to just, double check, ya know?”

“Curt, are you alright?” His fidgeting was so unlike him that it had her worried. 

“Oh sure, yea I’m just fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I gotta be alright for my crew, ya know? And for you and my Ma back home.  But, sometimes, it all just feels… well, I feel it.”

“Well, it’s okay to feel it. You can admit that to me, Curt. I wouldn’t think anything less of you.”

“You’d better not, you’re my best friend.”

“Curt…” She sighed. This was usually when she’d begin to get exasperated with him. As usual.

“B’Sides… if anything happens-“

“Curt…”

“If anything happens, you gotta write to my Ma, alright?”

“Curt, how can you ask me to do that?” She whispered. 

“No one knows me better than you, Val. It’s gotta be you, alright?”

“How can you put that on me, huh?”

“Just promise, would ya, ya stubborn woman!” He threw his hands up at her. “I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon, for fuck sake.”

“Fine! I promise, okay?” 

“Thank you,” He grinned, but she could tell it didn’t reach his eyes. “Now come on, I think we both need a drink.”

“After what you just asked me, I need more than one.” She groaned, allowing him to toss his arm over her shoulder and guide them both to the club. 

“Well I’m only buying ya one,” He looked up with a smirk. “You got Blakely now, he can buy you the second one.”

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“Nah, I’m very believable.” 

Pulling the door open, he walked Val to the table where the girls were already sitting, promising to be back with her drink. It left her shaking her head as she sat, baffled still at the conversation they’d had outside, and how he had turned on a dime from sarcastic Curt, to a scared boy right in front of her.

Turning to the girls, she noticed that Olive wasn’t with them, and knowing Benny had caught her on her way in, she wondered if him and Douglass were already vying for her attention. 

“Where’s Olive? With Benny or Dougie?”

“Ladies room.”

“Okay so which one is probably waiting outside the door for her?” Val chuckled, trying to bring herself back. 

“Dougie.” They replied in unison, laughing at the image of him hanging out outside the ladies bathroom. 

Helen gestured behind her, and before she could ask her what she was looking at, the one voice she had been yearning to hear all day since that crash, had finally eased the anxiety gnawing at her from the inside out. 

“I was starting to wonder where you were.” 

“Ev…” His name came on a breath, and she turned in her seat to see him standing behind her, dapper as ever. 

“I didn’t see you come in with the girls,” He rounded the table and perched himself against the arm of the chair next to her, casually bringing his drink to his lips. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, everything’s fine. Curt caught me as I was leaving the hut with Olive and wanted to talk.”

He nodded, slipping into the seat next to her with ease, his arm coming to rest around the back of her chair. His fingers gently moved over her shoulder, causing her to shiver and slide just a bit closer to him. 

“You okay sweetheart?” 

Shaking her head as if he had to ask why she had moved closer, she was about to give him the what for, when the other man in her life suddenly reappeared. 

“Course she’s okay! She’s got a drink now!”

He carefully slid a martini glass in front of her, and she couldn’t help but notice it was missing some off the top. 

“Thank you, Curt. And would you look at that, he taste tested it for me too.”

“What a guy, I know I am!” Curt beamed, not even caring that she had caught him. 

“You didn’t bring one for the rest of us, Biddick?” Tattie baited him, knowing it would get a rise out of the pilot and take the heat off Val. 

“My mistake, Tattie. What are you and Helen drinking this evening?”

“Rum and cola,” She replied, bringing a cigarette to her lips. “And they’re not to be taste tested.”

“Well then, I’ll be back with those.”

“Curt, why don’t you join us when you come back, yea?” Val looked over at him, and then at Ev, who nodded over at his fellow pilot in agreement. 

“Yea, Biddick, you can’t leave me outnumbered here…” Ev offered, the two men sharing a silent conversation. 

“Well, alright then. I'll be right back.”

Once Curt had reached the bar, Val pressed a chaste kiss to Ev’s cheek. 

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“You know what for.” She grinned. 

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome.”

“You two just going to gaze into each other's eyes all night, or are one of you going to go and save poor Olive, who’s been cornered at the bar.” Helen gestured to where Olive was now at the bar, Douglass, Benny and Curt, all trying to buy her a drink. 

“Jesus Christ almighty, Everett, you need to keep him on a leash.” Val sighed, pushing her chair back, standing to go rescue her friend. 

“Maybe we can ask Benny if he’ll lend us Meatball’s.” He called after her as she went, the two girls at the table with him laughing. 

“Okay boys, that’s enough,” Val pushed through them, just enough to get to Olive’s side. “Curt, I have two very thirsty friends waiting on you at the table.”

“I was just-“

“Helen and Tattie are waiting.” She fixed him with a look, and he quickly turned back to the bar to order two drinks for the girls and a whiskey for himself. 

“You two,” She turned on Douglass and DeMarco. “If you’d like to talk to Olive, come and sit with us.”

“Oh uh…”

“The table, Dougie,” Val grinned, a saccharine sweet smile stretching across her lips. “Benny, you and Meatball are welcome to join us.”

With that, she linked arms with Olive and marched her back towards the table that Everett and the girls were still occupying. 

“You could rule the world, Valencia DiRosano.” Olive shook her head with a laugh. 

“No, but I could certainly whip these fellas into shape.”

Neither girl had to turn around to know that all three boys were following dutifully behind them, looking more like lost puppy’s than the actual dog that was part of their little hodgepodge group. 

Four Red Cross gals, three pilots, a bombardier and a husky all crowded around a table as the band played on around them. Val had slid into Everett’s lap at one point, and Meatball had dutifully taken up her empty seat for himself, paws on the table like the good boy he was, simply enjoying the people around him. If she had to admit it, he was the best behaved fella at the table. Curt was currently telling a -very animated- story from back home that included Val, and a blonde that hadn’t gotten the hint that he was uninterested. 

“I ain’t never seen anything like it,” His arms flailed wildly around him, almost knocking the glass from Benny’s hand. “One minute she’s across the room, and the next, she’s got this girl by the elbow, hauling her out like-“

“Like trash, Curt. Because she was trash.” Val sniggered, pointing across the table at him while Everett held her in his lap. 

“So we know who to call when we need a quick exit then, is that it?” Benny chuckled. 

“Call Tattie, she’s just as good as I am.”

“Oh please! You’re the muscle, you managed to tame Kidd of that god awful scowl he’s been wearing for weeks.”

“That’s Egan’s fault,” Helen groaned. “Went and got himself demoted.”

“How exactly do you get demoted from Air Exec?” Dougie pondered, lighting himself a cigarette before it was quickly proffered by Olive, who plucked it from his fingers with a grin. “Hey!”

When she handed it back to him after taking the first inhale, no one at the table missed the slightly put out look on Benny’s face. Thankfully, they were saved by the Hundredths regimental photographer coming over to their table, camera in hand.

“You lot up for a group shot?”

“Absolutely!” Tattie grinned, maneuvering everyone so that they were all crowded together, Meatball front and center, tongue wagging in delight at all the attention. Val remained perched in Ev’s lap, her right arm wound around his neck, the left holding his that was firmly on her waist. Across from her, Dougie had pulled Olive into his lap, the blue eyed man looking rather pleased with himself. Curt had squeezed himself between Helen and Tattie, sitting on their laps, as Benny squeezed in between Val and Tattie, with Meatball. 

“Alright you guys,” Joe, the photographer hollered over the band. “On three…”

He counted off, and the flash captured the moment perfectly. He took a second, just to be sure, before the group untangled themselves. 

“How about you two,” He turned to Val and Everett. “Captain Blakely? Miss Val?”

“Oh! Thank you Joe!” She beamed, standing from Everett’s lap so that they could take a proper photo.

Adjusting his jacket, Everett wrapped both arms around her, holding her close as she rested one hand on his back, the other against his chest. They barely registered their friends watching, or that Joe had snapped the first photo of them simply looking at each other. When he had them turn to smile, Val felt as though she might burst; wrapped up in Everett’s arms, everything felt as it should. Her friends, the man she adored, the music around them and even Meatball. It didn’t escape her that this was the first photo they’d taken together, and she’d cherish it for the rest of her days.  

“I’ll get those to you all soon as I can.” Joe had bid them farewell after taking a few more of their group. Curt was especially excited to send the picture of him and Val home to his Ma. Proof they were both alright, he had said. Val suspected he just wanted to prove she hadn’t strangled him. Yet. 

“Thanks Joe!”

As he made his way to the next table, Curt stood from his spot at the table, holding his hand out to Helen, cheeky smile on his face. 

“Humor a poor sap with a dance?”

“Well; you’ve been surprisingly well behaved tonight, Curt, so why not.���

She allowed him to take her hand and guide her from her chair to the dance floor, where they began to sway to the tune of the band. 

Val and Tattie watched as both Dougie and Benny seemed to have the same idea, and sensing that DeMarco had sat and watched Olive with Douglass, Tattie stood from her seat, and tugged Dougie with her towards the dance floor. 

“Come on, you. Let’s stretch our legs, hmm?”

“Sure, Tattie…” Dougie followed her towards the center, eyes just barely catching Benny leading Olive to the dance floor as well. 

“May I?” Everett held his hand out for Val, who accepted without hesitation. Joining their friends on the dance floor, the band kept the tunes slow and romantic for a bit longer than normal. Val didn’t miss Dougie and Benny swap partners after the second song finished, the two of them remaining well behaved, lest ruin the mood of the evening for everyone. 

“The pair of them are lovesick.” Everett shook his head, watching as Olive joined Dougie, and Tattie moved into Benny’s hold. 

“Olive is definitely overwhelmed by it all,” Val looked up at him. “But between you and me, I think it’s Dougie who’s stolen her heart.”

“You think so?”

“She looks at him a certain way that she doesn’t when Benny comes around. I think she loves Benny but she may be falling in love with Doug.”

“Love, huh? That’s a big admission.” 

“Well, when you know, you know.” Val shrugged, tucking herself back against his chest. 

“Ain’t that the fuckin truth…” Ev whispered to himself, glancing down at the woman in his arms. 

He’d had a feeling when he first saw her in the club that night that something had been irking her, and when she had mentioned Curt wanting to talk, he thought it had been something he had done. The two of them were constantly arguing like siblings, the occasional real disagreement popping up, but they had seemed fine at the table, so maybe it really was nothing. 

“How did it go up there today?” She peeked up at him, and that’s when he saw it. The worry behind her eyes. 

“That’s what’s bothering you…”

“Nothing's bothering me.”

“Please, don’t lie to me…” 

“I don’t want to do this here,” Val eyed the room cautiously, before nodding towards the doors. “Take a walk with me?”

“Of course honey. Come on.”

He led her from the club, now outside in the dewy, English air. They walked hand in hand, silently, until they found a suitable place to talk without anyone hearing them. 

“It’s not like me to get scared but, today…”

“You heard about Baynard.” He guessed. 

“Tattie and I saw it happen.”

He hadn’t expected that she’d seen it. Hearing about these things was never easy, and the girls were all so friendly with the fellas that they began to grow attached to some of them. You remember how they take their coffee, or to ask about their sweetheart back home. Anything to bring a smile to their faces. 

“Jesus…”

“We were unloading the boxes into the truck, and the next thing we saw was the tail of a fort in the trees, black smoke and fire. Fire like I’ve never seen in my life.”

“Honey…”

“I just thought…” She sucked in a deep breath, trying to focus on something, anything. Anything except for the way her chest was seizing up and her eyes were watering. “What if it had been you, or Curt. I just don’t know what I’d have done.”

“I’m so sorry that you spent all day worried.”

“Kenny told us it wasn’t you… it shouldn’t be that grief comes with relief, Ev.”

“I know,” He sighed, taking her hands in his. “I wasn’t even off the ground yet when it happened. Yet… yet I felt this odd sense of thank god. Thank god it wasn’t my crew, my friends…”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything honey.”

“Are you ever scared? Scared that you might go up one day and, and-“

“Every day,” He admitted. “Scared we’ll live the rest of our lives stuck in East Anglia, fighting this goddamn war. Scared I’ll go up and it’ll be the last time. Scared I’ll end up stuck in the Stalag while you’re here alone. Scared to break your heart most of all.”

“Everett, no…no don’t say that.”

“We could be scared together. No one else has to know.” 

“Yea…yea let’s do that,” She huffed out a laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

“You weren’t supposed to see me cry.”

“No? But then I don’t get to do this.”

Carefully, he took her face in his hands, kissing away the tears that stained her cheeks. Slowly, carefully, his lips blazed a trail down her left cheek, stopping to place a kiss at the corner of her mouth before repeating the process on the right side. Once he had kissed her tears dry, and only then, did he allow his lips to find hers. Under the cover of night, he did his damndest to kiss away her fear and anything that scared her. He harbored enough fear for the two of them, and if he could ease hers just a bit, he’d do what he could. 

The sound of footsteps rounding the corner, crunching against the gravel pulled them apart. They found Dougie and Benny standing there, both wearing the disappointment on their faces with no attempt to hide it. 

“Ev,.” Doug sighed. “We gotta go. The light’s on.”

Part Four

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

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

[johnslittlespoon]

decided to break my own heart today i guess

[noneedtoamputate]

A radio tech! I love this idea. 👕19. If your character had to get a tattoo, what would it be? 📦11. What might an acquaintance think is a good gift for your character? (And bonus - who is that acquaintance?) 🤝7. Who is your character most honest with?

Thanks, Merc.

👕I'm the last person to ask about tattoos because I am a wimp and will never get one, and I never think about my characters getting one, either. Carrie is from Quincy, Illinois, right on the MIssissippi River, so I think something related to a river or water. Or maybe 10.10.43 for the date of the Munster raid.

📦 Carrie is a baseball fan and always wears her St. Louis Cardinals cap while working in the repair hut,

Does it mention in the show where DeMarco is from? I just know the 100th Bomb Group Foundation states his hometown in Winnetka, Illinois, firmly in Chicago Cubs territory. When his nephew sends him a pack of baseball cards, he gives the Stan Musial card to Carrie, and a peace offering for their (playful) bickering during the 1943 season. She keeps the card on her workbench after he is shot down,

🤝Carrie loves the women she serves with at Thorpe Abbotts, but she is very close to Ken Lemmings.

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - John Egan x OC

happy 1st november. here's a christmassy chapter to celebrate. masterlist is hereeee <3

21. A Unicorn Indeed

The war didn’t stop for Christmas. In Stella’s experience, the war didn’t stop for anything. Flights for both 138 and 161 went out the same as they always did. Stella’s first flight with 161, in fact, was set for the 27th. She would be leaving Tempsford for Tangmere on Boxing Day.

Barely anyone had gotten leave to go home for Christmas. Guy had, after his nightmare time in occupied territory, and he left on Christmas Eve for a whole three days back at home in London. Most everyone else, though, including the air exec and the wireless operators and the medics and the nurses and the cooks and the ground crew, were stuck in Tempsford, where even letters from home would take months to get to them; all correspondence had to be addressed to the RAF head office in London to be picked up by a special courrier. No one was allowed to know where they all were, even family.

On Christmas Eve, all four girls in Hut 6 sat on Lucky’s bed in their pyjamas, talking about home. Lucky had given Stella her childhood stuffed bunny to hold onto and, in return, Stella had given Lucky Ralph. She sat fiddling with his paws as she spoke of the home and the family she’d left behind in Poland.

“On Christmas Eve, as you say - Wigilia is how we call it - we are busy all day to make sure everything is ready before the first star appears in the sky,” she was saying. “All of the food is cooked and all of the dishes are washed and the tree is decorated. We do not want to be doing any work after the first star is in the sky. And then we sit down to dinner with twelve different dishes and everyone must try some of all of them, but before we eat we must break the opłatek - this, I think, you call wafers. And we wish each other good luck for the next year. And then we eat.”

“You eat your Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve?” Houds asked.

“Yes,” Lucky answered, quirking an eyebrow. “We also exchange presents.”

“In England we do all of that on Christmas Day,” Houds said.

Lucky scoffed. “I know this. I have been living in England for three years by now.” She shook her head, pulling a face. “Strange traditions you have.”

“What about you, Babs?” Donny asked with an amused grin, turning to Stella. “How do you usually celebrate Christmas?”

Stella shrugged. She burrowed further into John’s jacket, zipped up over the top of her pyjamas in what she’d claimed was a bid to stay warm but was actually a bid to feel close to him. She set her eyes on Lucky’s stuffed bunny, currently sitting perched on the side of one of her calves as she sat cross-legged on the bed. “I haven’t celebrated since before the war,” she replied, “but back home my brothers and I used to pull names out of a hat and that would be who we would buy a present for. Then on Christmas Day we would have dinner the same as every other night but we would give each other our presents afterwards.”

Houds’ eyebrows were furrowed when Stella glanced up. “Did your parents not get you any presents?”

In an attempt to be subtle, Donny elbowed her in the ribs, but Houds complained so loudly about it that the effect was lost.

Stella chuckled under her breath. “No,” she answered simply. “My parents…” She trailed off. She hadn’t ever gotten so far as to tell John about her parents. If she told the other girls then they’d know more about her than John did, and she didn’t want anyone to know her better than John did. But then Lucky leaned her head on Stella’s bicep and peered up at her with her wide eyes and Stella forced the thought out of her head; she still didn’t even know if John was alive. He wouldn’t want her guarding herself from people in his name.

“My dad left when I was young,” she said, and now her eyes were on her sleeves, her hands having retreated into them. She ducked her head, trying to be subtle as she inhaled John’s lingering scent on his jacket, and then went on, “My parents didn’t want so many children but I suppose my mum was super fertile. They were both angry when they found out she was pregnant with me. From what my brothers tell me, they tried to hold it together and my dad managed just about long enough for me to be born but it went downhill afterwards. When I turned nine he decided I was old enough to go without a father and he left one morning, very casually, just walked past all of us out of the house and never came back.

“My mum,” she continued, “didn’t want nine children either, much less to have to try to raise us all and keep us all alive with no husband bringing home any money. So my brothers had to go to work and my mum started working as a maid, but we never had any money regardless of how much they were all trying to work. So, no, my mum didn’t get us presents. She worked as hard as she could just to put food on the table. So my siblings took care of it and we got gifts for each other and, when all of us had started working, we started trying to get her a gift, too.”

The other girls had been quiet whilst Stella was speaking, watching her closely, drinking it all in. They couldn’t comprehend, really, how this girl who had grown up so differently from them had landed herself in the same place. There were many men who had come from similar backgrounds to Stella in the RAF, yes, because the RAF was actively recruiting; it didn’t matter if you were a man who had never flown a plane before because they wanted to train you anyway. The RAF was full to the brim with working class men and boys, in fact, who had learnt to fly during the war and were now being promoted up to the brass.

But women? No. No one was elbowing anyone out of the way to train women to fly planes. There was ancestral money associated with female pilots because they had to have their fair share of civilian flight hours to even apply for the ATA.

Yes, Stella Finley was a unicorn indeed, a working class girl who had learned to fly against all odds and now found herself one of only four women who flew for the RAF. And now she was about to fly for Squadron 161, the most secret of them all.

It was Houds who spoke first. “So that’s why no birthday cakes,” she said simply.

In spite of herself, Stella laughed. “Right,” she confirmed. “And my birthday’s in November, so everyone would be saving up for Christmas presents anyway. No birthday cake for me.”

“What about birthday presents?”

“From my oldest brother,” Stella confirmed with a soft smile. “Will. He always got me a birthday present. And one year, when money was good and all of my brothers had started work, they scrounged up enough money to get me this.” She pulled down the zip of John’s jacket a few inches, then tugged down the neckline of her pyjama top and withdrew the chain around her neck, held up the end to showcase the charm hanging from it. A tiny little silver bird caught and glinted in the overhead lights. A hummingbird.

Lucky reached out to touch it and smiled. “Pretty,” she said.

Stella grinned. “Thanks.” She let all three of them have a look at it, then promptly tucked it back into her pyjamas and zipped John’s jacket all the way back up, burying her chin in it momentarily to restore the warmth she’d lost. “Anyway,” she said after a couple of moments, “Donny, how do you and Daisy usually celebrate Christmas?”

They carried on talking about Christmas traditions for a while and then they got to talking about life in general; how Donny had met Daisy and how long it had taken him to propose, what it was like being married and whether or not any of the other girls thought they might get married eventually. Houds declared that she would only get married if she found a man who would let her have her own bedroom and sleep in her own bed, and wouldn’t force babies upon her. She didn’t see herself as a mother. Lucky said she had always thought she’d marry one of the boys who had grown up on the same street as her, but that he’d been killed during the Nazi invasion of Poland.

“Now?” she said. “I do not know. If I fall in love I will get married. I am not worried if I do not.” She was sly as she turned her eyes on Stella. “But Babs will marry the man who owns the jacket, will you not, Babs?”

Stella sputtered a scoff. “I don’t even know if he’s alive!” she exclaimed when she found her voice, sitting bolt upright on the bed. “I’ve never even kissed him!”

“Did you ever want to?” Houds asked curiously.

Stella’s cheeks were on fire. She picked up Lucky’s stuffed bunny and held it in front of her face, shaking her head from behind it. “I’m not talking about this. For all I know he’s been dead for two months by now.”

“But you don’t really believe that,” Donny deduced. “It’s unlikely that it was the pilot who didn’t get out when there were so many parachutes from his plane.”

“He still might have been killed on the ground,” Stella pointed out. She wasn’t sure why she was trying to insist that John was dead - she’d spent many nights convincing herself he wasn’t, coming up with any and all arguments which would point to the fact that he had gotten safely out of the plane and had navigated himself to safety - but maybe she just wanted the others to come up with some new ones, to confirm to her what she hoped more than anything in the world: that John was still alive, was safe somewhere in Germany, a prisoner of war who was guaranteed to survive the fighting, as much as he would have hated to be locked up.

“If he’s a POW he’ll be fine,” Donny said, as she’d said many a time before. “The Nazis aren’t nice to them, from what I hear, but they honour the Geneva Convention. If your Yank gave himself up and went willingly he’ll survive the war. Will you kiss him then?”

Stella peeked out from behind the bunny to find Houds looking at her with raised eyebrows, Lucky wiggling hers, and Donny smiling wildly.

Throwing herself forward on the bed, Stella buried her face in Lucky’s duvet. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Have you ever kissed a man?” Lucky asked. She was audibly grinning.

“Yes!” Stella cried. She sat up only momentarily to throw a pillow at her, then flopped back over again at once.

“Who?” Lucky challenged, unphased as she set her pillow back down in its rightful place.

“I briefly had a boyfriend when I was a teenager,” Stella said, turning her face to speak more clearly, rolling her eyes. “I’m not completely innocent.”

“But you’re a virgin,” Houds surmised.

Stella scoffed. “Not that it’s any of your business but yes, I am.”

“Does John know?”

Lucky got the same pillow thrown back in her face for that one. “Yes,” Stella all but growled. “But I’m not at all sure why it’s relevant.”

Lucky was cackling by now. “I bet he is lying in his POW bed somewhere in Germany dreaming up all of the things he would like to do -”

“Shut up, Lucky!” Stella cried. Her cheeks were in flames. “I don’t want to talk about this! You might be making innuendos about a dead man!”

“He’s not dead, Babs,” Donny cut in, laughing. “I can almost guarantee it. And I can’t wait to meet him once this is all finished.” She was smiling widely when she reached over to pat Stella’s leg encouragingly. “Tell us about him,” she said.

Sitting up straight, Stella busied her hands with smoothing down her hair, fighting to calm the blush in her cheeks. Once she had collected as much composure as she was likely to get, she set to fiddling with Lucky’s rabbit’s ears as she ventured, “He’s very tall.”

“How tall?” Houds challenged.

Stella laughed. “I don’t know! Much taller than me. Maybe about a head taller than me.”

Donny nodded her approval. “Very tall for a pilot,” she acknowledged.

“Very,” Stella agreed. “And he’s broad, too. Wide shoulders and a strong chest. Big arms.” She flushed as she said it. She didn’t like to admit that she’d noticed his arms but she certainly had. She’d never seen them bare but she’d felt them when he’d carried her on his back. Even just the thought of them made her feel hot.

Lucky whistled. “Big arms,” she echoed. “Very attractive.”

Stella rolled her eyes jovially. “He has dark hair,” she went on. “I used to think it was black but it’s a very dark brown, you can tell when he stands in the sunshine. Curly hair. Long-ish at the front and short on the sides.” She was smiling as she spoke, now. “And he has blue eyes. Dark blue, but they shine brightly when the light hits them. And he’s always warm, even when it’s cold out. He hates to be cold but his hands are always warm.”

“What else?” Lucky demanded.

Stella nudged her affectionately. “He likes to sing, even though he’s terrible at it. And he likes to dance, too. He can be very opinionated but I can’t resent him for it because I’m exactly the same. One time we had a major falling out and we hated each other for weeks because of it, but even then he still sat with me in the infirmary after my plane got hit by flak, to make sure I wasn’t alone.” Stella sighed. Her eyes fell to the duvet, trying to make out imaginary patterns in its folds. “He’s funny and passionate and he cares so much about the people he loves. He always let me talk at him for hours on end about things he must not have cared about at all. He loves baseball - he supports a team in New York called the Yankees, even though he’s actually from Wisconsin - and he -”

She faltered, sniffling. She hadn’t even realised there were tears in her eyes until one had slipped out and fallen down her cheek.

Ruefully, sadly, Stella laughed at herself, hastily swiping away the tear. “He tried to tell me he loved me the last time I saw him, the night before his plane went down. And I wouldn’t let him.”

“Why?” Donny asked softly.

“Because I was afraid. I -” One more sad little laugh, one more shake of her head. “I didn’t think I deserved him. I wasn’t good enough for him. And I thought he’d figure it out eventually, so I didn’t want him to promise me things only to take them away later on.”

“Oh, Babs,” Donny sighed, giving her knee a squeeze.

Lucky flung her arms around Stella’s waist and burrowed into her side.

From the other end of the bed, Houds was smiling softly at Stella. “I bet he misses you an awful lot,” she said. “And I bet he loves you even more.”

Stella tried to smile back but she knew it fell flat. “I miss him so much,” she confessed. And I think I love him even more, too.

The pub was shut on Christmas Day, so everyone gathered in the mess hall to celebrate. The cooks had made a roast dinner and sat down to eat it with them, and Mouse had gone to the effort of securing Christmas crackers for them all to pull before they ate. 

Everyone had to wear their silly paper crown and many a petty argument arose over colours. Stella didn’t mind what colour hers was - she’d never had a Christmas cracker before, never had a silly paper crown to wear - so she traded with three different people until everyone was happy with what they’d gotten. In the end, her crown was yellow, and the joke in her cracker was so diabolical it was actually funny.

The celebrations were loud and joyful. Stella had never known a Christmas like this. Even at Thorpe Abbotts Christmas had been a quiet affair, though she wondered whether that was still the case now that the Americans were there.

But here, at Tempsford with the Moon Squadron, this wild group of fearless pilots who ferried people and supplies illegally in and out of occupied territory knew how to celebrate. They had lost a lot of pilots this year, after all; they knew to be grateful when the opportunity arose to revel in the joy of being alive.

They drank the alcohol supply on the airfield dry as evening pushed into night, and pushed all of the tables aside so they could dance to the music on the radio. With flushed cheeks and a sore throat from so much laughter, Stella was spun around the dance floor again and again and again, and whenever she got tired she remembered how she’d spent last Christmas alone and reading in her hut and she decided to dance some more.

She thought of John when Goose suggested they all take turns singing. They didn’t have the instrumental versions of any music, so whoever knew the song on the radio would just sing loud enough to cover the original singer.

And John would have loved it. All of it. The wild revelry, the celebration of being alive, the alcohol and the dancing and the singing and the stupid paper crowns and the terrible jokes and how everyone told everyone else how much they loved them every five seconds.

When ‘Blue Skies’ came on the radio, Stella volunteered herself to sing before anyone else could. Because this was John’s favourite song and she couldn’t give him a Christmas present, not the way she wanted to, so this would have to do.

She sang loudly and without self-consciousness, even though she’d never much enjoyed singing, and Lucky stood up to join her as soon as she held an arm out to her to ask. And so the two of them stood with their arms wrapped around each other, singing at the tops of their lungs to cover Irving Berlin’s crooning, swaying in time to the beat. And Stella thought about John, tried to imagine him celebrating Christmas with Buck and Curt and DeMarco and Brady and everyone else who had gone down, and hoped, more than anything, that he might be able to feel that she was thinking about him, hoped that he might be thinking about her too.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Okay, I have found a photo that feels right for Minnie, so here's the happy couple side by side.

[trashbag-baby666]

There’s a universe where this is his mom.

[alienoresimagines]

Bucky, to Brady, drunk out of his mind: Huglin thinks he knows everything but he has no idea I'm in love with Buck Brady: You're in love with Buck? Bucky: Oops, sorry, my bad Bucky, leaning over to Buck: Huglin thinks he knows everything but he has no idea I'm in love with Buck Buck: You're in love with me? Bucky: Bucky: Where the fuck is Curt when I'm talking to him?

[sagesolsticewrites]

Love’s Light Wings: Chapter 1 (“as boundless as the sea”)

John Brady x Juliet Thompson (OFC)

John Brady finally returns home, overjoyed to see his mother, and with a question to ask Juliet— who’s been waiting for him to come home to her for nearly two long years.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: none, I think? But please let me know if I missed anything!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Hugest of huge shoutouts to @winniemaywebber and @ginabaker1666 for reading this many many times before I posted it I love y’all 💕

Masterlist | read the prologue here!

“Juliet.”

At the sound of her name, Juliet jolts back to reality, pausing in her anxious thumbing through the pages of the book in her lap. She looks towards where the sound came from: her mother in the passenger seat in front of her.

She folds her hands together, trying to keep them still.

“Sorry, I—”

“I know you’re nervous, sweetheart,” her mother says, reaching back to pat her knee, “He may be a little different, after everything,” she acknowledges, “but he’s coming home. And that’s what matters.”

Juliet nods, turning to look out the window at the passing buildings on their way to the station.

“I know, Mama.”

The car is silent for the remainder of the drive as her father pulls up to the already crowded station, grumbling softly to himself about how they should’ve left earlier.

The little Thompson clan makes their way inside, Juliet keeping her eyes peeled for—

“Helen! Over here!”

Mrs. Alice Brady— John’s mother— stands near a pillar just on the outskirts of the platform where John’s train is meant to arrive, waving to get their attention.

They make their way over to greet her, making a halfhearted attempt at small talk— a near-impossible task when they all know John will be arriving any minute from his brief detour to Oklahoma. Sweet, wonderful, dedicated man that he was, his first priority stateside was to travel with his co-pilot to pay his respects to the family of one of his fallen crew members, and no one could fault him for making them wait a few extra days for that.

“Oh, he’ll be so excited to see you, sweetheart,” Mrs. Brady says with a watery smile, squeezing Juliet’s hand.

“Not nearly as excited as he’ll be to see you, Mrs. Brady,” Juliet assures her. John may be the love of her life, but he’s a mama’s boy through and through. “He always asks if I’ve been checking in on you in his letters, you know.”

“My sweet boy… I hope you told him not to worry about me too much, honey. I tell him myself as well, of course, but you know it’s no use.”

“I did my best,” Juliet jokes, Mrs. Brady’s responding laugh a spot of sunshine in her cloudy demeanor.

Then, there’s the faint sound of something rolling down the tracks. The hiss of steam. The high-pitched sound of a train whistle.

The entire platform goes silent for a moment, then joyful chaos erupts as the train comes into view, soldiers waving from windows in the distance.

It’s utter pandemonium as the train comes to a squealing stop, loved ones storming the train cars as soldiers search the immense crowd for family, friends, lovers.

Juliet instinctively grabs her mother’s and Mrs. Brady’s hands in an attempt to keep their group together as the crowd flows around them, scanning desperately for any glimpse of John.

“Ma!”

A familiar shout stops Mrs. Brady in her tracks, and Juliet turns to see John Brady fighting his way through the crowd towards his mother.

She flings herself into her son’s arms, tears streaming down her face. A sob of “you’re home” is all Juliet hears before she steps away to give them a bit of privacy. She can’t help the tears that spring to her own eyes watching him hug his mother tight, some part of her still refusing to believe that it’s real, that he’s finally back.

Her own mother squeezes her hand, her watery eyes a mirror of Juliet’s as she gives her a soft smile. Juliet focuses on the feeling of her mother’s hand in her own, that grip being the sole thing keeping her from floating out of her body at the moment, her mind a disbelieving loop of he’s here he’s here he’s here.

Then Mrs. Brady finally releases her son, and John turns to her with that shy, cheeky smile she first fell in love with, diverting her attention from his own eyes brimming with tears.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says in a tight voice.

Her feet carry her to him as if they have a mind of their own, and then she’s flinging her arms around him, her own tears streaming over her cheeks, his name escaping her in a sob. John holds her tight, pressing soft kisses to the crown of her head, her forehead, her temples, anywhere he can reach as she buries her face in his neck.

Though his hug is just as fierce as it’s always been, his uniform is doing little to hide how thin he’s become, and it makes her want to shatter on the floor and force him into bed so she can nurse him back to health simultaneously.

He moves to pull away, presumably to get a good look at her after so long, but Juliet is loath to let him out of her arms just yet. He relents, wrapping his arms around her for a few moments more before leaning down to whisper tenderly in her ear.

“I’m home, honey. I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon,” he whispers with a brush of his lips to her ear, “Let me look at you, hm? I wanna see my girl, my Jules.”

With a nervous, watery laugh, she pulls away to meet his eyes, hyperconscious of the tears and mascara streaming unattractively down her face.

John simply takes her in, a fond smile on his face as his thumb swipes under her eyes, whisking away her tears.

“There she is,” he murmurs, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, “How did you manage to get even more beautiful while I was gone, honey?”

She can’t even begin to think of a reply, but it doesn’t matter because soon his lips are on hers and nothing else matters but the fact that he’s here and safe and whole.

Eventually they pull apart, her arms around his neck, one of his hands tenderly cupping her cheek.

“I missed you so much, Johnny,” she breathes, pressing her forehead to his as her eyes close, trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

“I missed you more, Jules.” Comes his soft reply, brushing a kiss to her nose just to hear her delighted giggle, nose scrunching up adorably.

They both jump at the sound of her father clearing his throat behind them, separating sheepishly. John takes it in stride though, leaning forward to accept Mr. Thompson’s handshake.

“Welcome home, son.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” he says with a single firm shake that has her father nodding respectfully.

Then it’s Mrs. Thompson’s turn for a hug, almost as enthusiastic as his own mother’s, and Juliet can’t help but grin at the way she dotes on him like a son.

“We’d better leave now if we want to beat all this traffic back home,” Mrs. Brady says, glancing around at the other happily reunited families filing out to the parking lot, “Will you all be joining us for dinner?”

She turns to the Thompsons, an expectant smile on her face.

“We’d love to,” Mrs. Thompson answers, adding “As long as it’s not an imposition, of course—”

“Nonsense, you’re always welcome,” Alice assures her.

With some back and forth, the mothers figure out an arrangement to meet at the Brady home in an hour, giving John time to get settled in before dealing with guests.

The hour passes quickly, and soon the Thompsons are standing on the front step, Juliet’s mother holding a container of chocolate chip cookies she had frantically taken from the cookie jar— “We can’t go empty-handed, sweetheart,” she had reminded Juliet at the look on her face.

Mrs. Brady had greeted them happily, ushering them inside to a spread of what Juliet recognized as all of John’s favorite foods.

Speaking of John…

“Hello, everyone.”

He enters the dining room smiling, still in his uniform, and Juliet abandons all propriety to rush into his arms, John easily catching her with a laugh.

“I know it’s only been an hour, but I missed you too, honey,” he chuckles softly into her ear before releasing her to greet her parents.

They settle at the table for dinner, and retire to the sitting room for drinks after dessert, where John and Juliet curl up on a loveseat off to the side while the parents chatter.

“How have you been, Jules?” He asks softly, entwining his fingers with hers as he adds with a soft laugh, “I couldn’t exactly get updates on the boat over, so I want to hear everything.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, slightly confused even as she teases, “You didn’t get sick of all my rambling after all this time?”

“I could never get tired of your rambling, sweetheart,” he assures her, “And… I could use some normalcy right now after… everything.”

His eyes drift to the family picture sitting on the mantle: him as a teenager, flanked by his mother and his father, and Juliet recalls with a pang that his father never got to see him come home— how could she have forgotten?

“Well,” she begins, gently drawing his attention back to her, “We’re getting ready for final exams, and there’s one boy who— bless his heart— is nearly failing but he seems to think if he aces the final he’ll be fine—”

Her rambling is interrupted, however, by Mrs. Brady coming around to collect the remaining dishes.

“Oh let me help you—”

“I’ve got it sweetheart, you don’t have to—”

“I want to, please,” Juliet insists with a smile, and she follows John’s mother into the kitchen.

“So John,” Mrs. Thompson turns to him, “do you have any plans now that you’re back home?”

“I’m hoping to get back into teaching,” he says with a smile, “Hearing Jules talk about it made me realize how much I missed it.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs. Thompson beams.

“I also, uh…”

His eyes flick anxiously between Jules’s parents as he steels himself, his audience waiting patiently for him to continue.

“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I love your daughter very much. Juliet… she’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and I know that’s because of the wonderful parents she has. Your daughter means the world to me, and I’d…” His mouth goes dry, and he swallows nervously before continuing, “I’d be honored to have your blessing to ask her to marry me.”

Silence.

It stretched between them, and the longer they were silent the bigger the pit of dread in Brady’s stomach got until—

“Son,” Mr. Thompson says with a smile as he stands, reaching out for a handshake, “It would be an honor to have you as part of our family.”

He scrambles to his feet after a moment of stunned silence, returning the handshake eagerly.

“Thank you very, very much, sir.”

Juliet’s mother is beaming as she stands to give John a hug, glancing surreptitiously towards the kitchen before asking quietly, “When would you like to ask her? Do you have a ring yet?”

“I— well, I’m not quite sure about when, but I know I’d like to do it as soon as possible— properly, of course. And as for the ring…”

He takes the ring box his mother had given him out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a small emerald nestled between two even smaller diamonds, set in a delicate gold band.

“It was my grandmother’s,” he explains, unconsciously tilting it to catch the light so the emerald shines the same color as Juliet’s eyes, “I saw it one day and it just… made me think of her.”

“It’s lovely, John,” Mrs. Thompson breathes, “She’ll love it.”

“I hope so,” he replies sheepishly, tucking the box back in his pocket.

Juliet’s laughter drifts in from the kitchen, her and his mother’s voices getting louder as they return to the group.

“Is that the time already?” Mrs. Thompson says, saving John from scrambling to make up a topic of conversation as Juliet returns to his side, “Alice, this was lovely, thank you so much for having us, but we really should be going if we want to get to church on time tomorrow. We’ll see you there, yes?” she asks as they say their goodbyes in the foyer, beaming at Mrs. Brady’s confirmation that yes, they will, as well as the Thompson’s Sunday luncheon afterwards

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Helen,” Mrs. Brady grins, and with that the Thompsons begin to make their way back to the car.

“Well?” she turns to her son expectantly, the Thompsons long gone.

The smile on his face tells her everything she needs to know, even as he rambles in disbelief about how nervous he was, how accepting and even excited Juliet’s parents were, and how he can’t wait to ask her tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?” His mother says, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I—” John blinks, as if he’d even surprised himself with that, “Yeah, I… I’ve already gone too many years without her. I don’t wanna wait any longer than I have to.”

A tender smile spreads across her face seeing how John softens just thinking about Juliet.

“I’m so happy for you, Johnny.”

“Ma, I haven’t even asked her yet,” he reminds her sheepishly, “And she hasn’t said yes.”

“She will, honey. Trust me.”

Juliet can’t help the smile on her face when they walk into church the next morning, seeing John talking quietly next to his mother in their pew. 

Right where he should be, some small voice in the back of her mind supplies as they slide in next to the Bradys.

He turns to greet them, his gaze softening as it meets hers.

“Hi,” he says softly, a tender undertone filling the casual greeting with a warmth that spreads throughout Juliet’s body.

“Hi,” she replies in the same soft tone, wondering if she’ll ever really get used to hearing his voice again after so many years of nothing but letters.

The brief greeting is all they have time for before everyone stands as Mass begins.

John’s trying to pay attention-- it’s his first Mass back home, with his mother, at the church he grew up in, he truly is trying his best to pay attention.

But not only is Juliet driving him to distraction in that dress— does she truly have no idea how stunning she looks?— he can’t stop picturing her in this very church, in an entirely different dress, on an entirely different occasion.

He’d be standing at the end of the aisle, in his best suit. Flowers— gardenias, of course— would adorn the space, their friends and family filling the pews. A wedding march would start to play. He’d turn as the doors opened, revealing Juliet… his Juliet, looking utterly radiant in a white gown, a diaphanous veil covering her face, an emerald the same color of her eyes glittering on her left hand—

A gentle nudge to his left jolts him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see Juliet giving him a concerned look, eyebrow raised in a silent “Everything okay?”

He flushes— apparently he wasn’t as subtle in his daydreaming as he thought. All he can do is offer a sheepish smile, reaching over to squeeze her fingers for the briefest of moments before returning his attention— what remains of it, anyway— to the front for the rest of the service.

“We’ll see you in a bit!” Mrs. Thompson waves as the congregation files out to the parking lot, Mrs. Brady returning her farewell with a smile.

“See you later,” Juliet grins, brushing a chaste kiss to John’s cheek before following her parents to their car.

His mother gives him a knowing look as they slide into their own car, John putting on his most innocent expression.

“What?”

“You seemed a bit distracted today, that’s all,” Mrs. Brady says, “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine, Ma,” he assures her, absentmindedly running his thumb over the small velvet box resting in his pocket, “Just… missed being home.”

Her lips twitch up into a smile, watching her son fondly as they drive home— she’s got a potato salad sitting in the fridge for the church luncheon.

“She’s going to say yes, honey.”

John blinks.

“Wh—?”

“I’m your mother, you can’t hide anything from me John,” she says matter-of-factly, “I know exactly why your head was in the clouds today, and I know—” she turns to give him her full attention as they park in the driveway, “— that you and Juliet are going to have a beautiful life together.”

A tender smile spreads across John’s face as he looks down at his lap, eyes softening at the thought of a whole life with his girl.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Always, sweetheart. Now let’s go,” they step out of the car, “the faster we get you through this lunch, the faster I get a daughter-in-law.”

“Ma!”

To say sitting through a lunch with nearly everyone he knows when he just wants five minutes alone with Jules is torture is, well… he knows it’s not— he’s been through too much to say otherwise— but it’s the closest thing to it he’s experienced since arriving home not even 24 hours ago.

The ring box is burning a hole in his pocket even as he approaches the Thompsons— Juliet on the other side of the room caught up in a conversation with one of their neighbors— politely greeting people as he passes.

“John, there you are,” Mrs. Thompson grins before lowering her voice “Your mother was saying something about you wanting to ask Juliet today?”

He does his best to smother his grin— of course that was the first thing she talked to them about.

“Yes, ma’am. I was hoping I could get a moment to talk to her once everyone else is gone…”

“We’ll take care of it,” she assures him.

“Take care of what?”

Juliet pops up behind her mother, eyes flicking suspiciously between her parents and John.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” her father says, “Just catching up with John here. He was just telling us that he’s looking to go back into teaching, isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir,” John nods, unable to help the grin on his face as he sees Juliet light up.

“Oh that’s perfect, Johnny!” She beams, “I’ll ask around and see if there are any openings.”

“I appreciate it, honey.” He smiles, arm sliding easily around her shoulders as she sidles up next to him.

He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, steeling himself for more socializing as she pulls him along to yet another neighbor.

Finally, what feels like years later, the last few guests have said their goodbyes-- save for the Bradys, who have insisted on staying behind to help clean up.

“Juliet,” Mrs. Thompson says once every available surface in the kitchen is covered with dishes to be cleaned, “why don’t you show John the garden? Alice and I will take care of all this.”

She turns to her mother, a puzzled look on her face. “No, I’d be happy to help, mama—”

Mrs. Brady steps in, gently shooing them off, “You two take some time to catch up without us meddling parents,” she teases, “Let us mothers gossip, hm?”

“ As long as you’re not gossiping about us,” Juliet teases back, but turns and leads John out to the back garden, where an assortment of vegetables have replaced what used to be a thriving variety of flowers.

“With all the rationing, Mama figured it would be better if we grew our own food,” she explains, fingers entwined with his as they walk along the brick border separating the garden from the rest of the yard. A smile spreads across her face as she adds, “But I convinced her to save some of the flowers.”

She points to a small section of tilled soil just below her bedroom window, where a white-blooming gardenia grows.

“Of course you did,” he says fondly, grinning as he presses a kiss to her temple, “It’s almost as pretty as you.”

She tucks her face into his shoulder in an attempt to hide the growing smile on her face.

“Hush.”

“What?” Brady laughs, “I can’t give my girl a compliment? Especially after I was away for so long…”

Juliet’s smile fades slightly at that, pressing ever so slightly closer to him as if to remind herself that he’s really there.

“I missed you so much,” she murmurs, her voice barely a whisper.

His hand comes up to tuck a dark curl back behind her ear, thumb stroking along her cheek until she lifts her head to meet his eyes.

“I missed you too, honey. More than you know.” He says softly, taking a shaky inhale before continuing “You know what got me through being in… in that place?”

Juliet shakes her head, quietly waiting for him to continue.

“Your letters, sweetheart. Well, Ma’s too,” he adds with a soft laugh, “But getting to hear you just talk about the kids, your parents, keeping me updated on the tiniest things like it was nothing… I didn’t realize how badly I needed a reminder of what was waiting for me back here until you kept giving them. And I realized something while I was over there.”

He pauses, exhaling shakily, and Juliet waits patiently for him to continue. Eventually, his gaze meets hers as he says reverently, “I wanted that, every day for the rest of my life. I want to hear about your Shakespeare lectures, about which kids are trying to get out of the grammar quiz, about which person in your book club is getting on your nerves—”

There’s a pause, and Juliet’s heart skips a beat as she realizes what’s happening.

“Johnny…” she breathes, hand flying to her mouth as he sinks down onto one knee in front of her, removing a small box from his pocket.

“‘I would not wish any companion in the world but you’,” he says in that soft, hesitant way that tells her he worked tirelessly to make sure he got the quote right— and he did, she notes gladly, from Act 3 of Tempest, and that’s an extra layer of wonderful because Tempest isn’t one she talks about very often so he must have been paying very close attention— “I never want to be apart from you again, sweetheart. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, so…”

Tears are already streaming down her cheeks as he opens the box to reveal a delicate emerald ring, his own voice becoming thick as he continues, “Juliet, will you marry me?”

She nods furiously, the words fumbling in her mouth for a moment before she finally gasps “Yes, yes!”

A mix of relief and joy and utter adoration flashes across John’s face as he stands, reverently slipping the ring onto her left hand before dipping to capture her lips in a tender kiss.

A watery, joyful laugh escapes her as they break apart, so utterly happy she feels she might burst.

John’s gaze trails over her face almost in disbelief, thumb tracing over the ring nestled snugly on her finger. He opens his mouth to say… well, he’s not sure what to say. There aren’t words for the wondrous joy he’s feeling in this moment, so he settles for leaning in for another kiss--

A muffled shriek from inside causes them both to jump, Juliet’s forehead narrowly missing John’s nose, then there’s the sound of dishes being swept into the sink, followed by a:

“George! She said yes!”

Blue eyes meet sparkling green for the briefest moment before they collapse into giggles, and that is how the Thompsons and Mrs. Brady find them: laughing together in the garden, the emerald on Juliet’s hand shining in the sunlight.