#thorpe cloud

[wouldiweresteadfastasthouart]

Thorpe Cloud, The Peak District

[liminalbeam]

Jim Thorpe, PA

[crabsandbeer]

Stone Row on Race Street. Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania. by Kevin B. Moore

[kulturado]

The Story: Oppenheimer and the resurgence of Blu-ray and DVDs: How to stop your films and music from disappearing

The Writer: Clare Thorp

(Oppenheimer movie still: Universal Pictures)

[cigardaddylover]

"In the Company of Titans: The Ritual of Power"

Reginald stood tall and imperious, his portly frame wrapped in a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit. His bald head gleamed faintly in the firelight, his thick white mustache a defining feature of his stern, commanding visage. Between his fingers rested a large cigar, the dark wrapper glistening with oils, its ember a glowing reminder of the power he held in every aspect of his life. The smoke curled lazily around him, filling the room with a rich, earthy aroma, an invisible crown marking him as the undisputed master of this space.

Before him, on his knees, was Edward—a young man whose ambition and hunger for approval were palpable. Edward’s lean form contrasted sharply with Reginald’s broad silhouette. His fine suit, though well-fitted, lacked the weight of history and command that Thorpe’s carried. He was here to prove himself, to submit to the authority of the man who had made and broken others with nothing more than his words and his will.

Reginald took a long, deliberate drag from his cigar, cheeks hollowing as he inhaled deeply. The ember flared, illuminating his face in a fiery glow. He let the smoke linger in his lungs before exhaling slowly, a cloud of rich tobacco wafting down toward Edward. The younger man inhaled it reflexively, his throat tightening as the scent wrapped around him. He didn’t just smell it—he felt it, a physical manifestation of the older man’s dominance.

“You understand why you’re here, don’t you, boy?” Reginald’s voice was low, gravelly, carrying the weight of decades of command. It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.

Edward nodded, his gaze flicking upward to meet the Commodore’s piercing eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves roiling in his chest.

Reginald’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his mustache twitching. “Good. Then you know this isn’t about you. It’s about me. About your place beneath me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Edward repeated, his voice quieter now, weighted with the understanding of what was to come.

“Show me,” Reginald said, his tone firm, final. He tapped ash from the cigar into a crystal tray and gestured downward. “Let’s see if you’re worthy.”

Edward shifted forward on his knees, his pulse hammering in his ears. The soft carpet cushioned his movements, but it was the weight of Reginald’s gaze that made him feel the most exposed. The Commodore took another drag from the cigar, blowing smoke directly down at the young man as he undid the buttons of his trousers with measured precision. The sound of the zipper echoed in the quiet room, and Edward’s breath caught as the older man freed himself.

Reginald’s cock was massive, thick and uncut, the foreskin still partially covering the broad, flushed head. It hung heavy, veined, exuding an aura of authority that matched its owner. Edward stared, his mouth dry and his body trembling with anticipation and a hint of fear. He’d never seen anything like it. This wasn’t just a cock; it was a symbol of power, something to be revered and obeyed.

“Open your mouth,” Reginald commanded, his voice a deep rumble. Edward obeyed without hesitation, his lips parting, his tongue flicking out to meet the head of the older man’s cock. The taste of salt and musk hit his senses, overwhelming and intoxicating. He moaned softly, closing his lips around the tip.

Reginald let out a quiet grunt, his free hand settling heavily on the back of Edward’s head. “That’s it,” he murmured, cigar still balanced between his fingers. “Take it in, boy. Feel the weight of it. Learn your place.”

Edward’s jaw stretched as he worked to take more of the thick shaft, his tongue pressing against the underside, tracing every ridge and vein. He gagged slightly as the head brushed the back of his throat, but Reginald held him firm, his fingers tightening in Edward’s hair.

“Relax,” the Commodore instructed, his voice calm but commanding. “Breathe through your nose. You’re mine now, boy. Your throat belongs to me.”

Edward did as he was told, inhaling through his nose, the scent of cigar smoke mingling with the earthy musk of the older man’s arousal. It filled him, surrounded him, claimed him. Reginald began to move his hips, slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of Edward’s mouth in long, deliberate strokes. Each thrust pushed deeper, testing the limits of the younger man’s throat.

“You’re doing well,” Reginald murmured, smoke curling from his lips as he spoke. “But I’m not here to coddle you. Open wider. Let me in.”

Edward moaned around the cock filling his mouth, his eyes watering as Reginald began to thrust harder, faster. The wet sounds of saliva and flesh filled the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the steady exhale of cigar smoke. The older man’s belly pressed against Edward’s nose with each deep thrust, the weight and heat of him overwhelming.

“You feel that?” Reginald growled, his voice thick with lust. “That’s power. That’s what you crave, isn’t it? To be used. To serve.”

Edward couldn’t respond, couldn’t nod, but his moans and the way he sucked, eager and desperate, were answer enough. His throat burned, his jaw ached, but he wanted more. He wanted all of it.

Reginald’s hand tightened in Edward’s hair, holding him in place as he fucked his face with growing intensity. The cigar bobbed between his lips, the ember flaring with each inhale. “Good boy,” he groaned. “Take it all. Let me hear you choke on it.”

Tears streamed down Edward’s face as the thick shaft drove deeper, filling his throat completely. He gagged, his body fighting the intrusion, but he didn’t pull away. He surrendered, letting Reginald take everything he wanted.

The Commodore’s breathing grew heavier, his thrusts erratic. “I’m close, boy,” he rumbled. “And you’re going to swallow every fucking drop. Understand?”

Edward moaned, his throat constricting around the cock buried in it. Reginald groaned, his hips jerking forward as he came, hot spurts of cum flooding Edward’s mouth and throat. Edward swallowed reflexively, the salty warmth coating his tongue, filling him. The older man held him there, his cock throbbing as the last pulses of release spilled into the young man’s eager mouth.

Finally, Reginald pulled back, his cock sliding free with a wet pop. Edward gasped for air, his lips swollen and his face flushed. The Commodore stroked himself once more, letting a final bead of cum fall onto Edward’s tongue.

“Good boy,” he said, his voice softening but no less commanding. He tucked himself away, adjusting his trousers with the same precision he brought to everything. Edward remained on his knees, chest heaving, the taste of Reginald still heavy on his tongue.

“You’ve proven yourself,” the older man said, taking one last draw from his cigar before stubbing it out in a nearby tray. “Now get up. We’ve only just begun.”

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

You want my jacket?

John Egan X W.A.C! Reader

Summary: Y/n wants Bucky's jacket, but they have a little competition before...

Warning: Swearing/ sport inaccuracies (Wikipedia stats)/ use of Y/n/ flirting/ mention of erection/ kiss/ sexism (little bit)

Word count: 1.1k

The music was loud, Y/n and her friends made their way through the room, it was a party in their honor, and someone’s 25th mission. The W.A.C division Y/n was in just got transferred to Thorpe Abbotts. Y/n was a weather broadcaster, she was going to brief the men on the conditions they were going to fly. She liked her job, sure it was boring sometimes, but she got the insight on big mission and her job was important. She felt like she was truly having an impact on the war, not a big one, but still.

When John Egan learned that W.A.C were coming on the base, he was like every man on the base; excited. Unlike Buck, he didn’t have anyone to write to at home, he was single and loved woman! When his eyes stopped on Y/n, he knew that he needed to talk to her. Her uniform fitted her so good; her curves were highlighted, and he always loved woman with curves. So, when he walked up to her, he was a little nervous, but he tried to hide it.

‘’Hello ladies’’ he said, looking at all the woman, then he looked at the one he wanted. ‘’Hi, I’m Major John Egan, but please call me Bucky, what’s your name, gorgeous?’’ he flirted. Y/n blushed and hid a giggle. ‘’I’m Y/n, nice to meet you’’ she extends her hand for him to take. The other girls were a giggling mess. When Bucky took her hand, she felt something pass through them, maybe she was just nervous, but it felt weird. They went to sit at a table and Bucky ordered drinks. ‘’So, Y/n, what are you doing here?’’ he asked, looking at her. ‘’I’m the new weather broadcaster, so we’re going to see each other a lot’’ she flirted. Words of his reputation had got to Y/n’s ears, when the Colonel briefed them on the attitude of the men at the base, the woman were warned about Major Egan. Y/n was curious to see if his reputation was true. ‘’You’ll be Miss Sunshine?’’ he asked, with a grin on his face. ‘’Exactly, but with this English weather, I’ll be Miss Cloud, Rain and Fog’’ she joked. He laughed at her joke, he always thought English weather was shit. ‘’Maybe your presence will bring more sun over the base’’ he took a sip of his drink. Y/n tilted her head, before taking a sip of her drink.

‘’I highly doubt that, but hey I’ll probably die of cold, you on the other hand, you’re going to be okay with that beautiful jacket’’ she smiled. He looked at his jacket, then looked at her. ‘’You like my jacket?’’ he asked, with a crooked eyebrow. She nodded as she finished her drink. ‘’Yeah, they didn’t give us any jacket, they didn’t have the money for us’’ she chuckles. A wicked idea came to her mind, she was a fan of baseball, so was he… ‘’Okay, what about a quiz, on the subject of your choice, if I win, I get your jacket, if you win, what do you want if you win?’’ she says. ‘’I want a kiss’’ he grins. ‘’Then if you win, you’ll get your kiss. You in?’’ she asked. He nodded and called Curt, he was a fan of baseball and knew the Yankees. ‘’I’m on, and by the way, I hope your baseball knowledge is good, you know the Yankees, sunshine?’’ he teased. He was 100% sure he was going to win; nobody knew baseball as good as him, but that’s what he thought. Y/n was grinning like a devil, she was getting that jacket!

‘’Ok, last question since you’re both equal in points, Spud Chandler broke the record for what this season?’’ Curt asked. Y/n thought for a second and then took the apple, it was their buzzer. ‘’Y/n?’’ the room went silent; money was changing hands around the bar. Their little competition was the main entertainement right now, soldiers couldn’t believe that someone knew baseball better than Bucky. ‘’ Lowest earned run average in a season’’ she said, smiling. Curt pushed his tongue on his cheek before looking at other guys. ‘’That’s right, you officially win!’’ He exclaimed, making the woman and some guy’s cheer for her. Bucky’s jaw was on the floor, that woman knew baseball, was supporting the Yankees and she just beat him. Now he had to give her his jacket! Bucky looked at the woman, she was smiling proudly. He smiled as he shook his head. He went closer to her. ‘’Let’s get out of here, sunshine’’ he said, she nodded, and they went outside.

‘’How come you know that much about baseball?’’ he asked. They started to walk around the base. ‘’Weather girl wasn’t my original plan, I wanted to be a sport reporter, but because I’m a woman, it’s impossible, but I know a lot about sports’’ she explained. He thought he was dreaming; this woman was surreal. ‘’That was really impressive, even though you beat me, it was amazing’’ he said, he truly meant it, he was in awe before her. ‘’Thank you, but I think you owe me something’’ she grins. Bucky rolls his eyes before taking his precious jacket off. ‘’Take care of it’’ he said, before giving it to her. ‘’Can you help me put it on?’’ she asked. Her back was facing him, he helped her put the jacket on, smelling her perfume properly for the first time. She smelled good, too good, it was going to be stuck in his mind now. Seeing her in his jacket kina turned him on, he didn’t know why, but it was a problem. ‘’Thank you, Major’’ she smiled proudly. ‘’I wish I could say it's my pleasure, but that would be a lie’’ he said, laughing to hide his pain. Y/n giggled as they continued their walk.

‘’That’s me, I have to go to bed early. I’m waking up at 0500 tomorrow I have to do my job’’ she smiles. Bucky nods quickly, expecting her to walk to her building, but she stays in front of him. ‘’Since we were equal, it’s only fair that you get your part of the bet’’ she says. Before he could process what she meant she quickly kiss him on the lips. By the time he acknowledges what just happened, she’s already at the door. ‘’Good night, Bucky, thanks for the jacket’’ she says, his name sounding like a prayer on her lips. ‘’Good night sunshine’’ he said. She blew him a kiss before entering the building, with his jacket on her. Yep, his problem was definitely growing more…

[brotherwtf]

John having a wet dream about Gale guys imagine the repression

now it's easy when it's in flight school, he's young and he's horny and his new roommate looks like a fucking Hollywood actress, but imagine when he's older, he's air exec at Thorpe Abbotts and he wakes up ON MISSION DAY with come drying in his pants and the memory of his best friends petal pink lips parted in a beautiful moan

the level of anxiety and worry John must feel on that particular day, but also so much fucking shame for having dreamt of Gale like that, he sits next to him in the briefing with his cap in his lap and biting his lip because Gale's chewing on that damn toothpick like he always does and he's pouting in concentration and Johns trying really, REALLY hard to focus on Stormy talking about the cloud cover rather than Gale's lips wrapped around his cock

Jesus Christ John just being absolutely insufferable during the whole four odd hour mission, definitely one of their shorter ones for sure, freaking the fuck out because he just dreamt of Gale in a demeaning fashion and also freaking the fuck out that his best friend might die before he can come to terms with it

all he can do is sit around or pace the tower trying to ward off visions of Gale's trim waist, his always perfectly styled hair coming undone from the sweat of sex, and when he sees the first fort come back into Thorpe Abbotts air space he really shouldn't be thinking about how tight Gale must be

it really doesn't help when John's vision of Gale's sex mussed hair almost becomes a reality when he sees Gale jump from the fort, his hair pointing in every direction and sticking to his forehead with sweat. He's panting from the adrenaline, but all John can see is Gale panting from John's touches and he keeps his eyes firmly forward as he drives Gale to interrogation, fielding Gale's concerns about how tense he looks

all the while Gale has the biggest question mark over his head when cocky and brash John Egan goes bashful when he claps his hand on John's thigh like he always did to him... maybe he's just not feeling well (JOHNS HAVING A HOMOSEXUAL EXPERIENCE)

[mikavlcs]

Had Enough

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Xavier starts to get overzealous with you. Wednesday puts him in his place.

Warnings: mild Xavier slander (sorry bud), possessive-ish wednesday

Word count: 1.1k

Notes: another request. hope you guys enjoy<3

Masterlist

Despite Wednesday’s reputation, there were very few people she classified as true enemies.

Sure, she despised the general population of Nevermore, but since she and Bianca had cultivated something akin to a friendship, there wasn’t anyone specific that haunted her thoughts during the day. 

However, Xavier Thorpe was quickly shaping up to be the new target of her antagonism.

She and Xavier had a somewhat complicated relationship. Their issues from her first semester had been largely smoothed over since she took an arrow for him and he gifted her that dreaded iPhone in return. They weren’t exactly friends, but there was no animosity between them.

His feelings for her seemed to pass as well, something Wednesday was eternally grateful for. Unfortunately, it seemed that the new recipient of these romantic feelings was you. And that was completely unacceptable.

She despised the way he insisted on sitting near the both of you during classes to try and impress you with his abilities or tell you terrible jokes in the middle of lectures.

And there were few things that angered her more than seeing him put his arm around you during conversation or ghosting his hand on your back while walking in the hallways.

She wasn’t jealous. No, jealousy had nothing to do with it. In fact, she found the situation laughable, hilarious even. That Xavier, the blank canvas of a man that he was, thought he could take what was hers.

And sure, your relationship wasn’t exactly public. Neither of you was screaming from the rooftops about your feelings because you both preferred to keep your relations private, but it wasn’t as if you were actively hiding it either. Your immediate group of shared friends knew.

Enid, Wednesday had told personally. Only because she wanted the werewolf to know to give the two of you privacy whenever Wednesday brought you to her dorm.

Bianca pieced it together herself, a fact that irritated Wednesday almost as much as the smirk Bianca gave her whenever the two of you walked into fencing class together. Yoko and Divina figured your relationship out because they got, what Enid rather vaguely referred to as, a vibe. Ajax remained blissfully unaware but he was never a threat.

Even other students appeared to cautiously avoid flirting with you in any capacity once they noticed your closeness with Wednesday.

(This carefulness may have also been cultivated by the way Wednesday glared at anyone that got too close for her liking, but that was entirely beside the point.)

The entirety of Nevermore understood that you were spoken for, and she enjoyed that greatly.

But Xavier didn’t appear to comprehend that.

So she would have to take it upon herself to educate him.

-

The quad was quieter than usual.

It wasn’t completely silent. The chatter of a few dozen students melded together, casting a thin blanket of noise over the small space. But it was nowhere near as rambunctious as it normally was on a Friday afternoon. Which meant that it was easy for Wednesday to find you amongst the commotion.

You were sitting at one of the tables on the far side of the quad, pen in hand while you seemingly worked on homework. Your blazer was tied around your waist, fully exposing the vest underneath.

The sky had been covered by clouds all day, but the clouds were beginning to dissipate in places, allowing rays of light to shine through. One of these places happened to be right above your table, clouds parting to envelope you in a halo of light that could fool anyone into thinking you were an angel sent down from the heavens above.

You looked divine. And the only thing stopping Wednesday from stopping and fully appreciating the sight before her was the person seated beside you.

Xavier.

He looked to be helping you with your work. But Wednesday knew better. He was sitting close enough that your thighs were nearly touching, his lanky frame nearly swallowing you whole when he leaned over to look at your textbook. Every time you looked away to write something down, his eyes would trail down the side of your face in a way that absolutely enraged Wednesday.

What drove her over the edge was his decision to grab your hand.

She was marching over to your table within seconds, her gaze absolutely murderous. A few students in her path instantly fled when they saw her expression, but she paid them no mind, focusing solely on how Xavier’s face fell when you pulled your hand out of his grasp. The sight was just enough to stop her from attempting murder, but not enough to deter her entirely.

You were the first to notice her. The way your eyes lit up at the sight of her gave her an unpleasant fuzzy feeling that she loved despised.

“Hi, Wen,” you greeted, giving her one of the warm smiles reserved for her. Wednesday’s glare softened considerably as her eyes moved from Xavier to you.

“Hello, mon cher.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until later. Is everything ok?”

The concern in your voice was touching, a reminder of how sweet you were even in less-than-desirable circumstances. But she had other matters to attend to right now.

“Yes. What are you doing?” The question was directed towards you, but her eyes were on Xavier, her fiery gaze boring into him. He squirmed. You didn’t notice.

“Just English homework,” you sighed. Wednesday’s eyes flitted back to you, momentarily drifting to your lips before righting themselves.

“Bring it to my dorm. I can assist you with it myself.”

Xavier started to protest but another glare was enough to quiet him. You looked confused by the sudden change in plans but acquiesced.

“Oh, ok. Let me get my stuff.”

You stood and reached for your textbook only to be stopped by Wednesday.

“Allow me.”

Wednesday began gathering your things for you and in the process, she discreetly leaned over to Xavier and delivered her message, her voice a soft but petrifying whisper.

“Lay your hand on her again and I will remove it. Finger by finger.”

Xavier’s eyes widened with terror, his only response a harsh gulp. Wednesday nearly smiled.

Without another glance in his direction, she stood with your textbook and dragged you off to her dorm. You tried to ask what was going on several times, but she remained silent until she reached her destination.

Once inside her empty dorm, she dropped your things off on her desk and sauntered back to where you were, stopping just in front of you. Your faces were mere inches apart and her eyes wandered back downward against her will.

You began to ask her something, but she cut you off by leaning forward and connecting your lips. A noise of surprise escaped you before you reciprocated, hands instinctively cupping her cheeks. Wednesday tangled one hand into your vest and gripped your tie with the other, lightly tugging you closer. You stayed pressed against one another until you stepped back, slightly dazed.

“What about-“

“Your homework can wait,” Wednesday mumbled, silencing you with her lips once more. She kissed you once, feverish and rough, then again and again and again, until there wasn’t a coherent thought left in your head. Her movements were frenzied—desperate even, and you were helpless to do anything but follow her lead with the same fervor.

When you finally parted for air, she whispered something into the small space between you. Something you didn’t understand, but still wholeheartedly felt.

“Eres mia, mi amor.”

[storiesfromafan]

Untitled (Part One) - Buck x Reader

A/N: here is the first part of my Buck story. I am unsure of what to call it yet. If anyone has any sugestions, dont hesitate to let me know.

I might not get part two up for a while, as I am waiting on MOTA DVD's to show up. I don't want to pay for Apple TV 😅 Also, forgive me for reader's rank, as I don't know anything Military but I tried to research it. Along with the camera. Please be kind lol. Oh, and any grammer/spelling mistakes 😅

Summary: being the only woman on ground crew could have been a challenge, if you hadn't shown the men you work with how serious you were. But now that you have, it's time for the 100th to arrive at Thrope Abbott's. And with it the reality of the War. Not to mention friendships and inevitabily romance.

Tag list: @psychocitylights

(If you want to be tagged, let me know)

Part One

The sky was a bright blue, like a clear ocean, white clouds scattered across like the foam gracing the shore. Hardly a breeze. Perfect weather for the arrival of the 100th to Thorpe Abbott base in East Anglia, England. It’s runway a buzz with the awaiting arrivals of the B-17's. Ground crew prepping all tents at each space where a B-17 would call home.

Your group had finished unloading the crates of bits and pieces, and equipment to the tent, a few men unpacking the crates, placing everything in a space. The other few men had either gone off to help another group or were hanging around, waiting for the first sight of a plane.

You were one of the ones waiting around, and an uncomfortable crate being your chair. Your legs were stretch out in front of you as you retied the scarf housing your hair. It was the best way to keep your hair out of your way. Paired with the oversized jumpsuit and boots, you looked completely unladylike. Your mother would be appalled. She always did dislike your fondness for tinkering with machines. And, to her horror, your father’s involvement in teaching you all he knew. Along with getting you into the Military, and working on planes, just like him.

You noticed a figure out the corner of your eye heading your way, upon turning your head you spotted Ken Lemmon – ground crew chief – headed your way. You smiled as he approached you, a smile forming on his face before he took a seat on the grass beside you.

“Should be any time now" he said turning his gaze to the sky.

You followed him, casting your eyes to the sky. “Can’t wait to see them" you said with warmth.

All preparations the last few weeks was leading to today. And with it the reality of the War with it. The coming storm, and all the horrors. Sleepless nights, paired with tiring and hard work. Mentally you believe yourself to be prepared, but you knew no one is every truly prepared. Your father had talked to you after you got your assignment for England. Advising you as best on what could be coming your way. He wanted you to understand it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. It would be exhausting, you would see many horrific and heartbreaking things. Along with the high expectations with your job.

Picking up the Kodak 35 RF camera from its spot on the grass by your side. This camera, your father gave you, was his pride and joy. Which made it hard for you to accept it. But he wanted you to have it, to have an outlet to channel when things got hard. You are going to see a lot over there, and it will take its toll on you. Taking photos will help you take time for yourself, you need to take time for yourself. You held it close, waiting for sight of the first B-17 to break through the clouds. Wanting to capture the moment. For yourself but also your father.

And like your prayer had been answered, there was movement and loud calls from men near the radio tower. Both you and Ken stood up, eyes to the sky. Then you saw it, the nose of a B-17 come forth from behind some clouds. Men were cheering in excitement. You moved quickly, bringing the camera up. Looking through the viewfinder you waited for the moment, and then pressed the button, capturing the plane in the heavens.

You continued to take snaps as the plane came in to land. Then as it rolled across the small tarmac. You even resorted to sitting on the grass to get a lower shot as it rolled by, in the background was another B-17 coming in to land. Ken had gone back and forth, watching the sky and you taking photos, asking did you get that? Or bet that one will be a beauty. You just smiled and laughed at how you both were like children on Christmas day.

Finally having taken enough photos, and not wanting to waste film, you placed the camera on the grass. Before resting back on your hands behind you on the grass, and just watching another B-17 come in to land. “I can’t wait to develop these photos. My dad is going to be over the moon with some of them" and you laughed happily.

A few more minutes past before Ken softly kicked your foot. “Come on. Time to assess the planes. Do doubt they’ve had to combat the weather on their trip".

You nodded before rising to your feet, grabbing your camera, before following behind him. It was time to get to some serious work. All the ground crew came over to Ken, and he delegated different groups to different B-17's. You were paired with four other men – Bobby, Patrick, Henry and Andy. They were alright, all the men you work with were now. When you first showed up it was only Ken who gave you a chance. You worked long and hard, and demonstrated your skills, before finally being accepted into the fold by them all. Now they were all like brothers too you.

Your group was assigned the B-17 Oh Baby. Making your way over to the plane as it came into rest. As soon as it stopped, and the hatch was open with the first of the crew out, the five of you moved to inspect the craft. Two men on either side inspecting the wings, while you moved to the end of the craft, and checking the belly and sides of the beautiful beast. Making your way along the metal, all the way to the nose, you couldn’t see any major damage to the plane.

About to check on the other men, it was the sound of an approaching Jeep that caught your attention. And its driver was none other then Major John Egan, or Bucky as everyone called him. He parked the vehicle before getting out with amused smile, as one of the B-17's crew helped a dog from the plane.

Who in their right mind would have a dog up in the air? You thought shaking your head.

“DeMarco!” Bucky called.

“Hey Major" the man with the dog called, as he walked toward Bucky.

“Where did you get that dog, Benny?” Bucky questioned in amusement.

Benny chuckled, “I won’t him at craps". He said it off handily, like it happened all the time.

The dark haired Major leant down and scratched the dogs head while saying, “you took this baby above ten thousand feet".

“He's got a mask. It cost me three bucks" Benny stated, before smiling brightly. “But boy, he loves to fly".

You noticed as the two talked, a third had exited the plane and headed towards them. You couldn’t make out much about the new man, other then his tall frame and blonde hair sticking out from his cap. But there was something about, an air to him that seemed to draw you in. He glanced to you, only briefly, before focusing back on Bucky and Benny.

“He wouldn’t stop howling" the new man said, voice like music to your ears.

“That’s because he’s part wolf" Benny said seriously, as if it was obvious.

Blonde removed his aviators as he spoke, “that wolf is part dog".

You chuckled at his words, moving to join Bobby and Patrick with the wing. Thinking it was best to get back to work.

Back with Bucky, Benny and blondie, they kept talking about the dog. “Got a name?” Questioned Bucky.

“Meatball" Benny replied with pride.

With as much pride, hands on his waist, Buck welcomed Meatball to the 100th. To the amusement of blonde. Benny took that as his cue for him and his dog to move on. Leaving the other two to greet the other. Warmly Bucky shook the man’s hand, smile set on his face. They exchanged pleasantries, as good friends do, before turning back to the plane behind them. And for the blonde, he watched the ground crew looking over it. He took in one in particular; you.

You were engaged in conversation with another man from the crew, you were smiling while pointing out something under the wing. The man nodded his head before laughing. It surprised him how at ease you were, and how accepted you were. For women usually held office or nurse jobs.

“Who’s that?” The blonde asked, gesturing his head to you.

Bucky removed his aviators and followed his friends gaze. A chuckle escaped his lips, which were smiling fondly. “That would be Corporal (Y/N) (L/N), Buck” the brunette offered. “She’s on ground crew, under Sgt Ken Lemmons. And a good friend".

Buck looked back to his friend with a quizzical expression. “Good friend, huh?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Surprisingly not like that. Not that I didn’t try the old charm, but she-"

“Shot you down" Buck deeply chuckled at the idea of his friend being rejected. As it doesn’t happen often.

“It happens Buck" the Major said with a sour tone. “But from it I gained a friend".

“Does she think that? That you’re friends?” He couldn’t help but tease.

Bucky glared. “I’ll prove it" he stated before turning towards you again. “Hey, (L/N)!” He called.

Hearing your last name, you looked up and around until you saw Bucky and the blonde looking at you. Bucky waved you over. You apologized to Bobby, before moving over to both men. Coming to stand before them, you placed your hands on your hips, a confused looked upon your face.

“Yes Major Egan?” You asked, a slight bored tone to your voice.

Said man smiled. “I told you, call me Bucky".

“ As I said, yes Major Egan”. This time it was all sass, and it made Buck laugh and Bucky softly glare.

“We’re friend’s (Y/N), just call me Bucky, alright?”

You rolled your eyes. “When did we become friends?”

Buck was enjoying this all too much. Most women were falling at Bucky's feet, while others were scorned after being with him. And here you were having none of him. Buck liked your moxi. No doubt he could see himself getting along just fine with you. Seeing his friend in a loosing battle, Buck stepped in to save the man.

“Major Gale Cleven" Buck inserted himself into the conversation, offering you his hand. “But most call me Buck".

For the first time you noticed the blonde, and took a good look at him now that you were so close. And boy was he gorgeous. The way his eyes pierced yours, and the smile upon his lips. You felt your breath catch in your throat.

Reluctantly you grasped Buck’s hand with yours, noticing the warmth coming from it. “Corporal (Y/N) (L/N)” you managed to get out after clearing your throat. “Nice to meet you Buck".

Bucky made an annoyed sound, hands firm on his hips. “What? You call him by Buck, but won’t call me Bucky!?”

You rolled your eyes to Buck, who smirked at your actions, before you let go of his hand and turned back to the brunette. “Sure. Because he seems like a decent guy. And you" – you shrugged – “are too much. Bucky is a bit of a pompous nickname".

“Oh? And Buck isn’t?” Questioned Bucky with a pout.

You smiled, knowing this was getting under the Major’s skin. “No, it’s an acceptable nickname".

Another, more loud, noise came from Bucky. Both you and Buck laughing at the man. He glared at you, though not entirely in a way of dislike, a touch playful. “Haha. Very funny. Now get back to work" he jested, pointing back to the plane. But then he laughed.

You smirked, mock saluting the Major before taking off without another word. Both men watching you walk away. Buck turned to his friend with a bright smile. “I like her".

Bucky rolled his eyes before putting his aviators back on. “Yeah, yeah".

With that, Bucky began to walk back to the Jeep. And changed the subject, telling his friend about the bike he got him. Buck – holding his bag – moved to the Jeep. They continued to exchange words before finally getting into the Jeep.

You hadn’t long been back with your group when you noticed the last B-17 in the sky. The men around you had heard one of the planes was uncounted for. So seeing it coming closer, there was excitement in the air. Unfortunately it was short lived when you noticed the lack of landing gears being deployed. And then the alarms went off, followed by people shouting crash landing.

That’s not good you told yourself. You and the four men working with you moved toward the runway. Eyes locked to the plane, all eyes locked to the B-17. An approaching Jeep caught your attention and it was Ken. He had told you and the men to get in, and you didn’t need to be asked twice. The fast, bumpy drive got you there after the plane had came down and sliding on its belly.

The crew of the crashed B-17 stood by vehicles that had arrived before you. All looked to the smoking craft. Some with confusion, other in sadness. Standing up in the passenger seat, you took in the sight. Grateful to see all crew accounted for.

“We will have to wait till any fires are put out before inspecting the damage" stated Ken.

You nodded, fully understanding safety first.

After given the all clear; Ken, you and a bunch of men from the crew went in. You all walked around, noting what was damaged and what would needed to be done. It looked worse then it was, and that’s what Ken told both Major’s when they came to the scene. While Ken’s men worked on getting transport to bring the plane back to the base.

Once hooked up and on its way back to base, you joined Ken in a Jeep, following the plane and its transport back. You relaxed in the passenger seat, enjoying the ride back. Ken talked about what would be tackled first on the B-17. And you agreed with him. Then you felt something being pushed into your hands, your camera. Ken said it wouldn’t be a bad idea to document this moment, a moment that could have been worse then it had been. The crew of men walking away while their craft not so lucky.

Ken slowed down a bit, allowing you to stand up without the likeliness of falling from the moving vehicle. Lifting your camera, you looked through the viewfinder. Shakily you looked to the plane and tow before you. And then pressed the button, capturing the first plane that would need extensive work to get her back into flying, fighting shape.

[wayrad]

Find the word

i was tagged by @survivedthenight & @onyxsboxes thank you! i decided to mix n match, hehe

All excerpts from my WIP #the wrath of the lamb

my words: set, pink, quite, card

bright:

John hoots, yelling open-mouthed up at the night sky. The moon’s out, not a cloud in sight, washing John’s face in its pale blue. He shines out here. Catches Gale looking, smiles, and he shines even brighter. “Getting sappy on us, Buck?”

pink:

Gale nods quick, fingers pressing him back into the mattress. John lays back like that, spreading his knees, inviting Gale between them. Gale leans back on his hands and spreads his legs, cunt spreading all pink and shiny with slick. His thighs tremble, skin flushed. 

quite:

It isn’t long at all before Gale wakes back up, keening for it. It goes like that, for the rest of the day and most of the next; Gale’s time being split between sleeping, fucking, and little periods of consciousness when they’re able to talk like real human beings. John gets a chance to collect Gale in his arms and hold him the way he never quite could in Thorpe Abbotts. The barrack is falling apart and it’s dark and dirty but it’s theirs, all theirs.

card:

Gale watches his hands on his lap. Worries his cuticles under his nails until they itch and bleed. He thinks, at least he might see a familiar face. Maybe his copilot. Maybe Curt got out after all, and he’s waiting there with a deck of cards and a dimpled grin. Maybe it’ll even be okay. 

your words: blue, play, excite, kiss

no presh tagging: @alienoresimagines @london-cowboy @brotherwtf @soliloquy-dawn @c-goldthorn @blixabargelds

[hbowarbabes]

Living to See Another Day

John “Bucky” Egan x Reader

Summary: As the 100th bomb group get ready to fly their next mission, Bucky is uncertain of his fate or his relationship.

This is based off the scenes in episode 5 of MOTA

Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak

Words: 2k

Next

• • •

Thorpe Abbotts Airbase,

Norfolk, England

October 10, 1943

The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the air force base as Bucky stood on the tarmac, his heart heavy with worry. The supposed "disappearance" of his friend Buck and his crew on the mission to Bremen had shaken him to the core.

The unease in the air was palpable, a sense of foreboding hanging over the base like a dark cloud.

In front of him, Y/n’s crew were making their way to the jeep which would take them to one of the replacement aircrafts. That didn’t soothe Bucky’s nerves one bit.

There weren’t enough aircrafts to make the mission over the English Channel. And once they’d reached enemy territory, the rest would be left undetermined.

Bucky watched the squadrons getting in vehicles that would take them to their planes and possibly their last destination. His mind kept drifting to Y/n, the pilot who stole his heart all because of her sheer determination to prove that she could fly a mission even as others looked down on her. And that she did.

But no matter how talented one was, there was no guarantee of survival. You had to expect the worst.

The thought of something happening to Y/n or himself filled him with a deep sense of dread. He couldn't shake the feeling that he or anyone else could be next. No one knew.

As Y/n walked past him, her face a portrait of determination, Bucky felt a sudden surge of panic. He knew he had to do something, anything, to protect her from whatever invisible threat loomed on the horizon that could harm the future of their relationship.

Without thinking, he reached out and pulled Y/n aside, away from the prying eyes of their fellow pilots. Of course, they all noticed and whispered amongst themselves. Y/n, embarrassed and a bit confused, followed Bucky as he kept a soft grip on her arm.

Hiding behind a building, Bucky scanned the area for any wandering eyes, making sure no one else was listening.

Y/n stood there dumbfounded. This behavior was very unusual. She knew something was wrong just by the look of desperation in his face.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” Bucky said, his voice low and urgent. Confusion flickered in Y/n's eyes, her brows furrowing in concern.

“What's wrong? Why are you acting so strange?”

Bucky hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He knew what he had to do, even if it tore his heart to pieces. “Y/n, we can't do this anymore. We need to end things between us.”

The girl's eyes widened in shock.

“What? What’s going on? Why are you leaving me all of a sudden?” Y/n struggled to keep her voice at a low whisper, but she didn’t pay any mind to the men staring at her.

Bucky's heart ached at the hurt in her voice, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her the real reason behind his sudden decision. She would see him as a coward if he even bothered to bring up his motive for wanting to leave her. Instead, he shook his head, his jaw clenched in frustration. “I can't explain it, Y/n. But please, just understand that it's for the best.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she scoffed, looking around in disbelief.

The man who she’d always trusted had dropped this news on her right before their biggest mission. Could the timing have been any worse?

“Fine. Then consider all of this,” Y/n circled her index finger, motioning towards Bucky as she got in his face, unable to hide her tears any longer. “over.” She turned on her foot, not wanting to hear another word out of Bucky’s mouth. He just stood there in silence, watching as he had let go of the one person in his life who he had loved so dearly.

As Y/n walked away, she quickly wiped away her tears, trying to act as if she hadn’t had the most unexpected news dropped on her.

Bucky felt a pang of guilt stab at his heart. He wished he never met Y/n like this. In a time of war.

If he could have it another way, he would’ve, but with all the men disappearing and planes going down more frequently, what was there for him? Because if anything, he wouldn’t be seeing home anytime soon.

And Y/n?

If he had to witness her go down, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fuck.” Bucky muttered, mentally kicking himself for picking a time like this to end things with Y/n. The damage was done now.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

• • •

The fleet of 17 aircrafts soared through the sky, cutting through the clouds like silver arrows as they headed for Münster. The tension in the cockpit was palpable, the pilot's grip on the controls white-knuckled as they braced themselves for whatever lay ahead.

Only flying 2 aircrafts behind Bucky’s, Y/n still felt as if she wanted to rip the Major’s head off. She kept her calm composure even through the many questions and assumptions she had heard upon getting in the aircraft. The crew could see her tear-stained face and they had already guessed that there had been a dispute between her and the major.

Y/n didn’t explain the whole ordeal, but instead sold them a lie that the Major had only warned her of her flying abilities.

Part of the crew bought it, but the rest knew better. Y/n was just covering Bucky’s ass so no one would find out the two were dating. It would do more damage to her career than anything else.

“Don’t try to get us killed, sweetheart!” A crew member yelled with humor, all aware of Y/n’s lack of patience at the moment. She was much too focused on keeping watch for enemy aircraft.

She had been lucky enough to survive the missions she'd been on. They all came with their complications, but in the end had resulted in her and her squadron getting to live a little longer.

But today's mission felt different. There wasn't a feeling of security, and it all had to do with the shortage of inventory of aircrafts. they could easily be taken out. They were sitting ducks.

And then it happened.

German aircrafts descended upon them like a swarm of angry bees, outnumbering them with ruthless precision.

Chaos erupted in the sky as the metallic glint of gunfire filled the air, the deafening roar of explosions drowning out all other sounds. There was no escape.

In one direction, German planes would be firing at you, and in another, one of the fleet's aircraft would be seen going down on fire or blowing up before it even hit the ground.

Even with her many attempts to keep the plane in the air, Y/n's aircraft was hit, a burst of flames erupting from its engines as it spiraled out of control.

“Our engines been hit!”

Y/n’s voice echoed through the radio of the remaining aircraft’s. This is exactly what Bucky had been worried about. His heart clenched in terror as he watched her plane slowing falling out of the sky and closer to the earth below, a trail of smoke marking its descent.

In a state of panic, Y/n hit the bailout bail, urging everyone to get out while she tried to keep the plane up a little longer.

“Y/n, we’ve gotta get out!” Her co-pilot shouted as the remaining crew members jumped out into the sky.

Pushing herself out of her seat, Y/n rushed out of the cockpit right behind her co-pilot. The plane was descending quicker as each second went by.

Once her co-pilot got out, she jumped into the open skies, the bullets continuing to cut to through the air like flies.

Looking down at the land underneath her feet, the world seemed so large. She had never seen it this close before.

Y/n opened her parachute, the thick fabric billowing out behind her like a white flag of surrender.

What waited for her after had worried her more than anything.

Bucky held his breath for what felt like an eternity. He had no way of knowing if Y/n had gotten out of the plane.

On their aircraft, Bucky and his crew faced their own battle for survival, the enemy bullets raining down on their engines, not giving them much time to think of a backup plan.

With a high-pitched whine, their aircraft shuddered and lurched. It was then that Bucky urged the pilot to hit the bailout bell, giving the rest of the crew enough time to get out.

Once they were out, the pilot, along with Bucky would be the last to leave. Unable to decide who should jump out first, Bucky eventually jumped out into the open skies.

As he plummeted towards the earth, the wind whipping past his ears, Bucky braced himself for the impact, his mind a whirlwind of chaos. Was Y/n alive? Did she land?

Miraculously, he landed safely in a rural area of Westphalia, the soft earth cushioning his fall. As he picked himself up, he quickly gathered up his parachute, rolling it up so no one could see it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure in the distance, a familiar silhouette standing amidst the rolling fields.

Heart pounding in his chest, Bucky stumbled towards the figure, his legs shaky with exhaustion. And there, under the vast expanse of the open sky, he saw Y/n, her parachute deflated at her feet, her eyes wide with shock.

For a moment, they simply stood there, the world around them silent, the only sounds of the rustle of the wind through the trees.

And then, with a rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, Bucky rushed over to Y/n and pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if afraid she might disappear.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as tears streamed down her face. "I thought I lost you,” he whispered, his voice filled with relief.

Bucky held her tightly, feeling the weight of his words from earlier. "Y/n, I'm sorry." he said, his voice filled with distress.

“I didn’t mean a word that I said,” Bucky whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “I was a fool to let you go like that.”

Y/n gazed up at him with a small, sad smile played on her lips. “Bucky, you’re an idiot. Do you know that?”

“I know- and I’m so sor-”

Y/n brought her finger to Bucky’s lips as soon as she heard the sound of voices. He quickly closed his mouth, and moved up next to Y/n. Both of them dropped to the ground, peeking through the tall pile of hay, only to see people occupying the farm nearby.

They listened closely to the words being spoken by the occupants, only to realize none of them were in english. They were in German.

“Oh, shit.” Bucky muttered in a low voice, receiving an annoyed glance from Y/n.

“We need to get out of here before they find us,” Y/n continued to keep a close eye on the man walking around the farm. If they stayed there for too long, there would be a higher likelihood of them getting caught.

“Maybe we can escape through those trees. It’ll give us some cover so no one can see us.” Y/n motioned her head in the direction of the dense forest in front of them.

“No. It's too dangerous. Someone might’ve found out that our plane crashed in this area. They'll be looking for us. We have to lay low for a little.” Bucky shook his head in refusal as he knew this territory was unfamiliar to them and too risky to wander around.

Never in a million years would he have imagined that he and Y/n would go down together. Their lives were still in danger regardless of each others’ company, but at least they wouldn’t be going through it alone for the time being.

The specter of the missing crew still loomed in the shadows, and they both silently prayed that their crew made it out alive.

Now all Bucky and Y/n had to worry about was getting out of Germany. Alive.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Snow & Fire (Buck Cleven x reader)

Summary: What began as admiring the first snowfall turns into something much more as Buck joins her outside, threatening to melt the surrounding snow with the growing heat between them. 

a/n: reader is female and from Georgia, USA. those are the only defining factors.

This was inspired by the prompt 'snowfall' for @creators-club 24 Days of Christmas Writing Challenge.

Warnings: none really, couple swear words and mild spicy

Words: 2500

Even through the despair and suffering, through the biting cold and the empty stomach, she was helpless but to stare in wonder. 

While everyone else hid away inside the mediocre warmth provided by their bunkhouse inside Stalag Luft III, she sat on the step outside. It was dangerous and foolish. It was asking for trouble. Nazi soldiers patrolled the compound, guns and dogs by their side, itching for a fight to break up the monotony of the days. The temperature dropped as winter descended and with the Red Cross packages delayed in getting to the prisoners of war, or confiscated by the Germans, winter clothing was lacking amongst the prisoners. All excellent reasons for her to remain in the bunkhouse with the airmen. Safety. Warmth. Survival. 

Yet she stayed on that step, staring up at the gloomy, gray sky, the sun hidden by thick clouds, unable to drag herself away. 

The snowfall was beautiful. 

Little, delicate snowflakes drifted down to the ground like glistening sugar or feathers from angel's wings. So slowly they fell, as if gravity held no meaning. A graceful dance to the hard, cold ground. 

What surprised her the most was how silent it was. An almost sacred hush hung over the compound as the snow fell, as if this was a holy occurrence. Perhaps it was in a way. For as time passed, those delicate snowflakes, easily melted if caught on a finger or tongue, gathered on the ground and buildings. What used to be a compacted, dirt ground transformed into a gleaming field of white. The dull buildings glistened with the coating of snow on them, giving them a cheer never meant for them. Even the trees surrounding the compound, sentries guarding the otherside of the fence, appeared less menacing. Those that lost their leaves within the past months now appeared less like skeletons standing watch over those who dared to oppose the Third Reich. The evergreens seemed to embrace the snow, just missing the candles and bobbles to create a holiday cheer. Something certainly lacking in the Stalag Luft. 

Unaware of the eyes watching her, she held her hand out, marveling as the snowflakes fell on her skin. The pinprick of iciness was no longer noticeable with how cold her hands were. 

“What're you doing out here?”

That smooth, gravelly voice was easily recognizable, particularly from those in the 101st Bomb Group. Tipping her head to the side, she could see the man standing in the doorway. “Afternoon, Major.”

Buck Cleven hesitated for a moment before stepping outside and closed the door behind him. To her surprise, he sat down on the step next to her, their thighs almost touching due to the short width of their perch. His sharp gaze scanned the area around them, eyes lingering on the security tower with its Nazi occupants as he adjusted his signature blue scarf around his neck. 

“It's not safe for you to be out here alone.”

“Yeah…I know.” She could feel his gaze, feel the unasked question. Needing to occupy her hands suddenly, she tugged her coat closer around her body. The coat was about two sizes too big for her, meant for a man and not a female navigator. She was lucky to have it. 

She was even more lucky to have miraculously earned the friendship of Buck Cleven. When others argued and fought that a female navigator was an abomination, he stood resolutely by her side. That simple act was enough for many of the airmen at Thorpe Abbotts to eat their words. They may have grumbled amongst one another but as time passed and she showed her exceptional capabilities as a navigator, those remarks lessened. Another element that cemented their friendship was their sobriety amd thus their shared trials of corralling their other friends after a night of drinking. 

Never would she breathe a word of the crush she had developed as time passed. It was almost impossible not to fall for him, with his dashing good looks, charming and kind personality and his aura that seemed to draw people in. She was helpless against it, yet that truth never dared touch her lips. 

“I've never seen snow before.” She murmured, breaking the silence. 

“Really?” He asked in response to her quiet admission. 

She hummed, sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake on it. 

“How have you never seen snow?”

“I grew up in Georgia on the coast. I've lived through hurricanes and blisterin’ summer heat…” she shrugged, “but it's never snowed.”

“Huh. I guess I didn't think about that.”

“Well, not all of us can grow up with snow capped mountains in our backyard.” She teased. 

He huffed a laugh and knocked his shoulder into hers.

“It's beautiful though. Like… I don't know…. Reminds me of that powdered sugar my Ma’d use to make frostin’ for Christmas cookies.”

He hummed in agreement. “I can see that…guess I never thought of it that way. It's always just been snow to me, even as a kid. Always cold and wet.”

“That's a shame. I'd have loved to build a snowman as a kid.”

“I did once…behind a bar.” He hesitantly said, as if dragging the words from the depths of his memories, his blue eyes clouded with the dark memory. “My father lost his bet. He came out mad…and drunk. He kicked it over and said I was too old to make childish things like that.”

“I'm sorry. That's…” Words failed her, unable to decide on a word strong enough to show how terrible his experience sounded. Her heart broke for a young Gale, his innocent joy destroyed by the anger of a parent.  Silently, she reached over and squeezed his hand, hoping he understood what her voice failed to convey. 

“Christ, your hand is freezing.” He quietly scolded. Immediately, he folded his hand over hers and reached for the other one in her lap. With both of her hands clasped between his larger hands, he tried to rub heat back into them. “You'll likely lose fingers if we don't warm you up.”

“Sorry.” 

“You need to take care of yourself. We'll see about finding some gloves for you. I will ask around.”

“That's not–you don't need to do that.”

“We can't have you losing your fingers. I heard they are vital for our navigators.”

She snickered. “Yes, sir.”

A small, intimate smile blossomed on his face as he brought her hands to his mouth and began to blow warm air on them. 

As his breath touched her skin, sparks zipped up her arms to her heart, making it flutter and dance like a startled bird caught in a cage. A near silent gasp slipped from her lips at the sensation. She stared wide-eyed at him, spellbound by the man next to her. Even if she had any inkling of pulling away, she would have been unable to with the sheer intensity of his blue eyes, pinning her in place even more than his hands around hers. 

It was overwhelming and thrilling. 

What possessed her next, she would never know. Perhaps the cold had addled her brain or it was his intense gaze, making her feel like they were the only two people in the world, that made her lose her inhibitions. Perhaps it was the sparks dancing along her nerves endings, making her want to draw closer, to give into the sensation completely. For she allowed her finger to reach out and gingerly trace his bottom lip. 

She remembered how some of the women back at Thorpe Abbotts would gossip and guess about what kissing Major Buck Cleven would be like, since he was quite chaste with his attention even though he was single. He was friendly enough with the women but never sought certain…affections, like others did. 

Although now, she could rationally say that even slightly chapped, his bottom lip was still pillowy soft and probably would be spectacular to kiss. Even the new scars on his cheeks only enhanced his features, appearing like lines on a runway, directing towards his plush lips that were begging to be worshipped. 

He stilled at her movement, neither pulling away or drawing closer. Yet with that single action, the air surrounding them shifted, like a heavy fog curled around them. His eyes…their intensity doubled. His gaze transformed to heavy-lidded and piercing in the blink of an eye. 

Feeling emboldened, her thumb slowly traced his upper lip. His eyelids fluttered shut as her thumb moved to trace the seam of his lips. She could feel his shaky exhale, feel the faint tremble in his hands under her touch. 

Thinking she had taken it too far, she gently started to tug her hands back but his grip only tightened, refusing her escape. Instead, his eyes snapped open, a heated gleam in his gaze, a naked want unmasked as he stared unabashed at her. 

Eyes pinning her in place, he kissed the finger still in place to caress his lips, then slid down her knuckles. Somehow the simple action, those gentle kisses held an edge of indecency to them, of temptation, that stole the very air from her lungs and made her core clench. 

“Buck?” She breathed out, unsure what she was actually asking for, just needing to say his name, to somehow ground herself instead of floating away in the heady moment. 

With a faint groan, he turned her hands over and placed a tender kiss on each of her palms, making the skin tingle. As if that was not enough, as if each touch of his lips to her skin loosened what chains of propriety held him back, he surrendered, diving in for more. Those perfect lips followed a trail from the palm of left hand down to the inside of her wrist, pushing back the edge of her coat with his nose. At its destination, he placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss there, branding her with his lips. 

Her breath hitched in her throat, liquid fire pouring into her veins with each press of his lips to her sensitive skin. Unable to move away, unwilling to remove her gaze from this fantasy before her. Even with the thin winter coat covering her, she felt laid bare before him. 

Without pause, his mouth moved to her right palm, repeating the action. Those delectable lips caressing her skin to press an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of her wrist. 

“Buck.” This time his name came out in a needy whine. A desperation for him. An exquisite need for more. For him to quiet the burning fire he began or allow it to build until it consumed them both. She wanted to taste his lips, to feel them pressed against hers and become drunk on him alone. 

Yet somehow the utterance of his name broke the spell surrounding them.   

A sudden tension caused his body to stiffen before he slowly sat up ramrod straight. His beautiful eyes focused on her hands clasped between his but now on his thigh instead of against his mouth, where she would much rather them to be. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…” He softly spoke, his voice almost hoarse like it pained him to speak. 

“S'alright, I–” she gulped audibly, throat dry and mind reeling from the desire still causing her body to ache for him, “I didn't mind.”

“We're too exposed out here. Anyone could walk by and see.”

“Oh…right.” 

“Not that I don't…” He paused, as if reevaluating his words. “When I kiss you for the first time, I'd rather it not be somewhere where a Nazi could walk up and interrupt.”

She slowly blinked, his statement bouncing around within her head. “When?”

“Yeah, when. I've been thinking about it for some time now.”

“Oh, ah, yeah…that's…probably a good idea. I'd be upset if we were interrupted.”

He smiled with such sweet adoration yet laced through with undeniable hunger, it threatened whatever was left of her resolve to melt away like snow. 

They sat outside together for several more minutes, stealing shy and longing glances at each other and holding hands. The heady fog lifted from around them, allowing her to breathe again and not feel like her heart was beating out of her chest. An air of anticipation replaced it, planting a sense of yearning that bound them. An almost tangible desire for a shared kiss. To cement whatever this was between them, this newfound fire they both wished to drink from. 

Delicate snowflakes continued to drift down around them, causing the Stalag Luft to look like a snow globe. 

“Hey, what are you two dodos doing out in this damn cold?” Major Bucky Egan asked, leaning against the doorframe behind them. 

“Aren't you from Wisconsin?” Buck teased, glancing back at his best friend. 

“Yeah, and it's damn cold. Why aren't ya inside?”

“Just watching the snowfall.”

“Uh huh, is holding hands helping you see the snow better?”

She felt a flush heat her cheeks at Egan's comment, but spoke up, hoping it would distract the other major. “D’ya think there'll be enough snow to make a snowman tomorrow?”

“Uh…” Bucky squinted up at the gray sky. “I guess if it keeps falling at this rate. Are you planning on making one?”

“I've never made one before.”

“So a prisoner camp is the best choice?”

She shrugged, undeterred, especially when Buck squeezed her hands in his. 

“Well, if you don't want frostbite, I'd say you two should come inside, crazy idiots.” Bucky murmured the last two words. He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, staring at the two before stepping back inside the bunkhouse. 

In silent agreement, Buck and her stood up to return inside, but not before he stole a quick kiss to the inside of her right wrist once again, making her insides turn to jello. He held the door open for her, allowing her to retreat from the cold, then followed her into the long hallway which divided the many rooms overcrowded with bunk beds for the downed airmen. 

With the click of the door closing behind them, she reached out and snatched his hand before he could move away. Tangling her fingers with his, her heart hammered in her chest as she whispered her request. 

“Want to help me build a snowman tomorrow?” 

“Sure.” He replied without hesitation, a beaming smile on his lips and delight in his eyes. “It's a date.” 

With a cheeky wink and squeeze of their fingers, he slipped into his room, which was closest to the door. 

Attempting to smother the silly smile she could feel on her face, she took a deep breath and walked past Buck's room, only to lose the battle against her smile as she overheard Bucky giving him shit about being outside in the cold and asking if Buck was finally admitting to his pining for her and if that was why they were holding hands. 

With a heat warming her inside and out, she walked further along to the room she shared with the surviving men from her plane. She could not wait to play in the snow tomorrow for their date…and perhaps she could orchestrate something for that desired kiss. Neither snow nor Nazis were going to keep her from kissing Buck Cleven if she could help it. 

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 9

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |-| Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while! Please enjoy some filler fluff as a reward for your patience

The January cold was a biting, painful thing, with the uncanny ability to burrow its way deep beneath any clothing, regardless of the layers everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had desperately piled on for protection. Thick, wool socks and scarves were always in order, and a few of the elderly women in the village had begun to make a pretty penny by selling them on to disgruntled pilots who had never before experienced winter outside of California.

Major Kidd had given her Egan's sheepskin jacket. Well, he less gave it to her than he did leave it in the mechanics' hut for her, but she appreciated the gesture nevertheless. The sleeves were too long, but she made do, as it was loose enough on her to fit comfortably over her work overalls. Combined with the wool tights she'd stolen from George, and the fingerless gloves she'd found at the bottom of a drawer somewhere, the weather was almost bearable. Almost.

It had snowed overnight. There was too much ice on the roads to cycle without endangering life and limb, so Frankie had been forced to commandeer a phone and summon Lemmons in one of the jeeps. The man had looked so miserable upon his arrival, that it had been impossible not to laugh. Hat tugged down past his eyebrows, scarf pulled up over his chin, his face was only half visible, and what sliver she could see was contorted in a frown. His gloves were made of bright orange wool, and she suspected the women in the village had run out of the more appealing colours by the time he sought them out. Grinning to herself, she clambered into the jeep, stomping snow off of her boots as she sat down.

"I don't like this country anymore, Frankie," Ken complained, voice muffled by his scarf.

She laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is bad..."

He was stricken with a look of complete and utter fear, and Frankie let out a snort. "It gets worse?"

"Probably!"

This information put him in a foul mood for the rest of the drive, muttering and grumbling to himself about 'goddamn snow' and 'goddamn ice' as they pulled up to the runway, tyres gouging fresh marks into the undisturbed blanket of white. They were both left sorely wishing they had finished their work the night before when the weather had been more palatable, but there was no getting around what they had to do now.

The metal of the planes' exteriors was frozen to the touch, bare fingertips left raw and red as they worked away at replacing and tightening various bolts and rivets, breath blooming in frozen clouds in front of their faces. Every five minutes they would have to step away from whatever they were doing and run a few laps around the place just to warm themselves up, aware of what a ridiculous sight they must have made.

"Think they'll go up again tomorrow?" Ken asked, panting as he jogged on the spot behind Frankie, occasionally pausing to throw in a few star jumps.

"Not if the weather doesn't clear up - they'll need better skies than this if the navigators want to get anywhere," She shrugged, pausing halfway through tightening another bolt to jump up and down, attempting to restore feeling to her legs.

"Everyone else is in bed right now," He complained.

"Lucky bastards."

The pair must have appeared entirely absurd, chatting away with stony, irritated expressions as they stomped and jumped around entirely out of synch, and they counted themselves lucky that there wasn't a single other soul out there that morning to bear witness. A lit cigarette hung from between Frankie's lips, the embers only just succeeding in warming her face. Their cheeks and noses had both turned red after only an hour out in the cold, and by the end of their second, neither could justify staying outside any longer.

Kicking the snow off their boots, they shut themselves in the mechanics' hut, the light that hung from the ceiling swaying in the drafty breeze - the result of a ceiling gap that they were unable to locate. Turning on the gas stove that was usually only used to make terrible coffee, the pair pulled up their chairs beside it, holding their frozen hands above the small flame until feeling returned to their fingers.

"I forgot to ask you about your Christmas," Frankie huffed, rubbing her palms together, creating heat from the friction.

"That was nearly a month ago," He pointed out.

"I know. Just felt a bit bad about not asking."

"It was good, yeah. Sammy's folks had a goose, I dunno where they got it from," Lemmons chuckled, pausing for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a glimmer of something in his eye. "How was your Christmas?"

She frowned at him. "I told you before. Good."

"...Mhm."

A sudden knock at the door took them both by surprise, heads snapping towards the unexpected sound. Brows furrowed, they glanced at one another, neither one wanting to get up from their spot beside the stove. "Door's open!" Ken called.

They could hear the sound of someone awkwardly fumbling with the door handle, and Frankie was about to get up when it finally opened. Rosie had to use his foot to pry his way inside, a steaming cup of Red Cross coffee in each hand as he shuffled through, flakes of snow still resting unmelted in his hair. His face was flushed pink, and he wasn't wearing anywhere near enough clothes to protect him from the cold, snow encrusting the soles of his boots.

"Hey!" Frankie beamed, pulling up another chair for him between her and Lemmons. "Jesus, were you trying to get hypothermia?"

"Brought coffee," He said simply, voice still slightly shaky as he sat down, holding the tin mugs out to the mechanics. "And uh-" Reaching into his pocket, Rosie produced a crumpled paper bag containing a couple of doughnuts. "Don't tell Helen. Was only supposed to take one."

"Gee, thanks, Cap," Lemmons nodded gratefully, shooting Frankie a pointed stare that she pretended not to have noticed. She nodded in agreement, both hands wrapped around her cup, feeling the heat seep through the metal. The Red Cross coffee always tasted so much better than the crap they had in the mechanics' hut, and she resisted the urge to grin at the gesture, especially as she realised he had brought nothing for himself.

They drank in silence for a while, the only sound the jagged, laboured breathing of one trying to wear off a chill. "...So, uh..." Rosie began, hands folded in his lap as he looked between the others. "...Work going well?"

"Y'know, I can go somewhere else if you guys want," Ken pointed out, peering at them over the rim of his mug.

"No!" "No!" Frankie and Rosie blurted simultaneously, assuring him hurriedly. "You need to keep warm, Ken," She told him.

He had slurped down his coffee quickly, the winter cold cooling it down so that it wouldn't burn his throat. Shaking his head, he pushed his chair backwards out of the little semi-circle they had created, scraping loudly across the floor. "The fuel cans we asked for arrived yesterday, I should go pick them up before I forget."

"You sure?" Frankie asked, getting up to trail after him as he made his way to the door. "The snow'll probably start melting soon, you should wait until it's not so icy."

"No, no. Now's good," Lemmons nodded determinedly, smirking at her as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind blowing its way inside. "Thanks again for the coffee, Rosie!"

"No problem, Ken," He nodded, tipping an imaginary cap at him as the mechanic disappeared outside.

Frankie paused a moment to process what had happened before letting out a huff of laughter. Rosie was still sat beside the stove, watching with a smile as she crossed the room towards him. She leant down, and he craned his head up to meet her, their lips meeting in a quick kiss, as casual and comfortable as a long-married couple.

"He definitely knows," She pointed out, lowering herself back into her seat and propping her legs up across his lap, his elbows resting gently on them.

"Oh yeah," Rosie nodded in agreement. "Have you properly told anyone yet? Only, I haven't - I was waiting until you wanted to."

"Oh, I've only told George, she won't tell anyone. But I tell her literally everything, so y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, I expected that," He continued nodding, pausing after a moment as a stricken look of realisation crossed his face. "Wait, does that mean you told her about when we-"

"No! No, not about that, Jesus," Frankie giggled, nose creasing as she took another sip of her coffee. A smile spread across Rosie's expression as he took a moment to actually take in her appearance, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the hem of her trousers.

"... Is that Egan's jacket?"

"Mhm," She hummed, wiping her top lip as she put down her mug. "Kidd left it for me. It doesn't fit-" Frankie flapped the ends of her sleeves to illustrate the point, making him chuckle. "-but the thought was nice."

"God, I absolutely humiliated myself the first time I met Egan," Rosie shook his head slightly, his cheeks reddening. "Kept talking about flying in my goddamn skivvies, I was pretty sure he only brought me to meet you so that you two could both laugh at the weird new Captain."

She laughed, taking one of his hands in hers, absent-mindedly twiddling his fingers as she spoke. "I'm sorry, you flew in your what?"

"Jesus, I'm doing it again, this is like a recurring nightmare. It gets real hot in Texas, right, so we practised flying in our underwear to stop us from over-heating - but of course I decided that was the best possible story to introduce myself to the Majors with. I mean, Christ, I still don't know what I was thinkin'."

"Well, the first time I met him I absolutely destroyed him in a drinking contest, so he's been offered his fair share of public humiliation."

"That... does help, actually," He admitted, and she grinned, running a hand through his hair and messing up his curls as she rose to her feet. His gaze followed her, tilting his head upwards, a few loose curls hanging in his face. "Where are you going?"

"Funny thing is, I actually have this thing called a job," Frankie teased, zipping up Egan's jacket as she headed for the door. "I have to, like, do it, and everything."

"Wow, that sounds really hard, I'm so impressed," Rosie replied flatly, a smirk curling his lip.

A gust of wind blew a cloud of snowflakes in through the door as she opened it, flipping her collar up to her chin against the breeze as she stepped outside. Lemmons was waiting there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and his unexpected presence startled her, snow crunching beneath her feet as she jumped, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ken shrugged. "Thought I oughta give you a minute - didn't wanna interrupt anything private."

Frankie's eyes narrowed, glaring at him as they made their way back towards the hardstand. "Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong?"

Turning on her heel, she stared at him, their gazes locked for a long, awkward moment of silence. She gnawed at her lip, saying nothing, until suddenly she broke, scoffing as she stomped away. "Fuck you, Ken."

"Told you!"

Before he could move, she had slung an arm around his neck, forcing him into a playful headlock. Lemmons squawked, wrestling against her unrelenting grip until he dug his fingers into her side, and she released him with a yelp, their hair both dusted white with snow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It took three days for the weather to subside - three days of icy roads, relentless snowfall, and trying not to freeze on the hardstand. Every day like clockwork Rosie had brought the mechanics fresh, hot coffee, filling flasks with the stuff to satisfy more and more of the ground crews, who were growing steadily more irritable with each inch of snowfall. The pilots were grounded for the duration, but even the pub seemed too great of a trek under such circumstances. The only sanctuary was the small, cylindrical heaters inside the Nissen huts, and in the evenings many took to sitting around them to keep warm.

Early morning birdsong came as an unwelcome sound as Frankie's eyes peeled open, adjusting to consciousness as sunlight streamed in through the window above her bed. A gust of air hit her face as her bedsheets were ripped off of her, and she flinched as she waited for the sudden chill to grip her. But it didn't.

"George. What the fuck," She grumbled, pressing her palms against her eyelids as she sat up, hair knotted and sticking out at random angles on one side of her head.

"Get up. Snow's thawed, they'll be flying today."

The woman had a disturbing knack for always looking immaculate - golden hair falling in perfect curls, red lipstick that never smudged, and clothes that always fitted perfectly. George always told her that it was just that she put in the effort, but Frankie tended to suspect some sort of witchcraft.

"Well fuck me, in that case, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She huffed, her hairbrush getting stuck halfway through a knotted patch. For a moment, she couldn't quite bear to deal with it, and just let it hang there, weighing down her scalp on one side.

"Thought you should get some beauty sleep before you see off your darling pilot," She teased, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Although admittedly, I wasn't expecting you to wake up looking like you'd been dragged sideways through a thornbush," George added, and Frankie let out a cry as she yanked on the hairbrush, dragging it forcefully through her hair until it fell straight.

"I'll drag you sideways through a bush in a minute," She muttered, rubbing at the sore spot on her scalp with one hand as she pulled on her coveralls with the other.

"I just think it took you long enough to finally snog him, you might as well try not to look like a dying cat whenever you see him."

"Oh, piss off!"

Huge meltwater puddles lined the roads on both sides, the grass reduced to muddy swampland, sodden with what remained of the snowfall. Frankie pedalled slowly, careful not to slip, calling out in greeting to the men who passed by in their jeeps, tyres kicking up water, spraying her legs and staining her trousers.

Her breaks screeched loudly to a halt as she stopped in front of a half-melted snowman on the side of the road, the last remaining evidence of the village children's play. Their laughter had filled the air since the first snowfall, the only remedy to the constant, freezing misery. The snowman's head was close to toppling off, its carrot nose drooping pathetically. She couldn't help but chuckle as one of the pebbles they had used for eyes slipped from its perch, landing with a thumb in the damp grass. She wondered if it had snowed back home, if Alice and Jill had made a snowman of their own. As a child, she'd used her mother's old scarf and gloves, the scent of perfume still lingering on them after so many years.

Another jeep rolled past, cutting it too close and too fast, a spray of puddle water splashing all the way up her back, the cold soaking through to her spine. Frankie let out a yelp, her train of thought lost as she flipped off the driver in his side mirror and began to pedal again, resuming her steady, cautious pace as the airstrip came into view.

The Riveters were gathered around their B-17 when she arrived, packs slung over their shoulders as they readied to board. Letting out a huge yawn, Frankie dismounted her bike, letting it lie on the tarmac as she approached, the uncomfortable stick of damp fabric against skin making her squirm. The moment Pappy saw her, he frowned. "D'you just get up? They've run the checks on our bus already, right?"

"Your plane's been ready to fly for days, Pap - I was out here in the snow making sure of it while you lot were warming your feet by the fire," She rolled her eyes, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

Rosie was visibly fighting a grin as she approached, Bailey shooting him a confused look at his expression as he passed, clambering into the belly of the plane. One by one, the flight crew filed inside, hauling themselves up through the hatch in a series of grunts, until their Captain was the only one left standing on the tarmac. The moment they were alone, he let his smile show, a red tint flushing his cheeks. "Ma'am," He teased, tilting his cap at her as she approached.

Frankie smirked, stepping forward until their fronts were pressed together. "So... what number is this now?"

"Seventeenth mission," Rosie nodded.

"Hm. Not too shabby."

"Why thank you, dear," He grinned, leaning down to press his lips to hers. Just as Frankie began to reciprocate the kiss, a thought popped into his mind, and he pulled back, eliciting a tut of disappointment from her. "Y'know, I had this idea earlier that I'd bring you flowers, but it's too damn cold for 'em. Thought I'd let you know anyway, so you can appreciate the thought."

She hummed. "Duly noted," Grinning, she resumed the kiss, her teeth accidentally grazing his lip as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. Hands grasping at her back, his brow furrowed at the sudden dampness, but he figured she might send him away if he ruined the kiss again. He could smell the oil on her clothes, but the scent he had once found acrid now only succeeded in reminding him of her. Even miles up in the sky, hanging perilously over enemy territory, there was something calming in that smell, a constant tether to home.

The pair had been so engrossed in their embrace, that they had failed to notice Pappy reappearing through the hatch, sent to retrieve something they had forgotten in the jeep. But the moment his feet hit the tarmac, and he took in the scene before him, he froze, releasing a sort of strangled grunt that alerted them to his presence, springing away from each other, hands raised to wipe any evidence of the other from their mouths.

Wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and horror, he spoke in angry whispers, closing the hatch most of the way to muffle the sound. "Are you kidding me?!"

Rosie held up his hands as if begging for mercy. "Look, Pappy, I was gonna tell you, it's just-"

"I owe George so much money," Pappy huffed, running a hand across his brow.

Frankie frowned. "... You what?"

"We had drinks last week, we were betting on how long it'd take for... this to happen."

She resisted the urge to laugh, noticing how Rosie seemed to be suppressing a smile. "George already knew about this last week."

His expression was horror-stricken, face growing ever-redder with every second that passed. "... Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Rosie let out a chuckle. "I think you just got scammed, Pappy."

Brow furrowed, expression contorted in fury, Pappy muttered to himself in indecipherable fury as he marched over to the jeep, retrieved his forgotten cargo, and stomped back towards the plane, pausing briefly to interrupt his incensed murmuring. "Happy for you two. Or whatever," He sighed, waving a hand in their general direction as he failed to meet their eyes.

As soon as he was safely inside the plane and out of earshot, they collapsed into laughter, his utterly outraged frown seared into their minds. Rosie wheezed as he caught his breath, "I think George is using your friendship for evil," He pointed out, succumbing to laughter again as Frankie let out a cackle.

"I am not letting her collect on that debt," She shook her head, face flushed red, cheeks creased with a smile. Frankie looked up as she felt his hands against her face, palms cupping his cheeks as he brought her face to his, their foreheads simply resting against each other's as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"I will see you later," He spoke softly, the tip of his nose brushing against hers.

"Yeah, you better," She reached up, straightening his tie. "I'll be really pissed off otherwise."

"And we can't have that."

"Nope."

With one last smile, Rosie pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Frankie scoffed as he pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He smirked to himself as he climbed up into the plane, arms burning with the weight of his body as he hauled himself up through the hatch. Navigating his way through to the cockpit with ease, he slid into the pilot's seat, feeling Pappy's gaze burning into the side of his skull.

"...Yes Pappy?" He asked after a moment of silence, his co-pilot shaking his head side to side, never retracting his penetrating stare.

"I fuckin' knew it."

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 6

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, war.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

Weeks had passed since the Bremen raid and the subsequent mission that had greatly knocked down the number of original men at Thorpe Abbotts. With each passing day the letters from your secret admirer, including the final one that had been delivered to you the day before the mission, grew more wrinkled with each reading- though now you could picture his face clearly as his words pierced your soul so profoundly.

Each time you read that the final letter you were transported back to that day, the moment the breath was torn from your lungs as so many friends, so many brave souls failed to return to the safety of the English fields.

Your tendancy for isolation had been the main reason for a weekend pass to be handed to you on a days notice. You slipped a few of your belongings into a bag, the bag remaining light as there were very few items that you were allowed to own besides a spare uniform and simple compact.

You were driven to the closest train station, it would be your mode of transportation to London. You settled into a compartment with your unexpected travel companian, Major Egan. It was quiet as you both avoided speaking of the reasons why you were practically forced to leave Thorpe Abbotts for a few days. You glanced at John, finding him immersed in a tattered paperback before you dug through your bag for the letter that had been delivered that morning.

“Being in a plane had always provided me with a sense of freedom, it has began to feel like a cage, trapping brave men for their inevitable demise. It feels like it would be cruel to reveal myself to you now as each mission carries a sense of finality after we have lost so many. I hope that I can convince myself to walk up to you in my true form before I depart, no paper or ink between us to hide my cowardice. If not, farewell for now.”

After locating housing for your stay, which you and Egan would be neighbours, you went your separate ways. He moseyed into the pub across the street while you wandered the city, stopping in small shops to spend the little money you had on trinkets and sweets. When the bit of sun peaking through the clouds had begun to set you went back to the hotel, drawing a hot bath to ease the stress from deep within your bones. You settled into the water, a sigh escaping your bitten lips as the warmth overtook you for the first time since you had been home. You wondered what your author was doing now, would he be writing your next letter? Or were the men at base preparing themselves for a raid in the morning? You pictured a faceless man sitting on the floor beside the tub, convincing yourself that you could feel his fingers tenderly brush against your scalp. Maybe one day you would share a moment like this with him, a serene scape where war was merely a torid memory of the past. You were broken from your fantasy by an air raid siren before loud booming and panic filled the streets, a peak out the curtain revealed an attack just across the city.

Sleep evaded you in the large bed, you had gotten used to small, hard beds with scratchy sheets- it felt like a luxury you did not deserve. With the inconsiderately vulgar sounds emitting from your neighbour you tossed and turned until you came to the conclusion that you would not be falling asleep anytime soon with all the noise. You quickly dressed and hurried across the city, knowing that even if not at Thorpe Abbott you could still help someone in need.

The sun had risen long ago but you had yet to sleep. You ignored the stinging from the cuts and scrapes across your fingers and palms, you had been helping a weeping mother find her child burried among the rubble of a collapsed builiding. With the child being found meraculasly with only a few cuts and bruises, you spotted a man passing reading the recent paper. You quickly located a stand, using the very last of your pocket money to purchase a copy of the Daily Herald, the headline was clear about the destruction of the 100th. Eighth Air Force Smashes Bremen- 30 Bombers Lost.

You hurried to find the one other person you knew was also in London for the weekend.

“John!” You shouted, pushing your legs harder to catch up with the man in his all too familair dress greens. “Major Egan!”

He paused just in time to catch your hurtling body as you tripped on the curb. His hard look of determination told you he had already heard the news. “I’m going back.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You did not question where John had procured the jeep from or the speed at which you barrelled toward the countryside. Exhaustion from your lack of sleep was catching upto you but the worried hammering of your heart in your chest for those who had not returned kept you awake.

“You’re still bleeding.”

You glanced down, finding drops of blood and dirt covering your once clean blouse. You regretted not carrying a medical kit in your bag as you inspected the wounds on your hands, most were superficial but there were a few spots that would require proper tending. You shifted in your seat to remove the hoissery from under your skirt, “Keep your eyes on the road.” You teased the Major, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere as you wrapped the pantyhose around your bleeding hand.

“Blakely’s fort went down, with Dougie and Cros.”

You swallowed thickly to clear the emotion tightening your throat with the thought of the loss of your friends, “Buck?”

He nodded erratically, “Benny too.” He confirmed, pausing as he contemplated his next words. “Your writer… I think I know who it is. I think you should know too, now that he won’t be able to tell you himself.”

x x x

I appreciate everyone’s patience!! Reveal imminent in Part 7! ❤️❤️🫣

@jointherebellion215 @orchiidflwer @probabydeadbynow @claireelizabeth85

[bejeweledblondie]

Peggy, The Pin Up

-

A/N: I apologize for being MIA I’ve had a lot of very great but time consuming things take over my life! I’ve started a 1940s vintage clothing blog & I’m shocked at how successful it has become. On top of that I’ve got promotions at work & it’s opened so many doors for me. I’m hoping to write a bit more!

Warnings: classic 1940’s sexism, mentions of nudity, female pronouns

Summary: Y/N never expected for her pin up prints to be put out… it causes some disruption on Abbott-Thorpe & one dark curly haired aviator comes to her rescue

It all happened on a Thursday morning at breakfast. Y/N sat there in her crisp white uniform shoveling the chalky yellow substance the army called eggs in her mouth. A dark shadow appeared above her plate & a magazine was plopped down in front of her.

“Don’t even try to deny it, this is you isn’t it?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Speechless she looked away & noticed that the Army’s shipment of Esquire hit the shelves. “God who knew? We knew you were a tease, but this is just another level.” He started. “Do you know what everyone says about you?” She shook her head shamefully, lying to herself. She had heard rumblings in the sick bay from time to time. Sometimes while fixing a patients IV bag or a even helping move a patient a hemline might rise causing a stir.

Before the pilot could continue his chauvinistic teasing session she immediately grabbed her belongings & swiftly exited. Little did she know a dark curly haired pilot was watching the torment happen. Due to rank he couldn’t intervene but oh he so badly wanted to bury the man six feet under. He had grown fond of the nurse, she was always so kind with his men. Incredibly soft spoken & nurturing when it came to the care she provided. He had walked in on her reading a copy of John Steinbeck’s, “Of Mice & Men” to the wounded pilots one evening. She didn’t have to do that, she could’ve been out dancing at the Officer’s Club. But she voluntarily chose to stay after her shift to read to them. He could tell the men greatly appreciated it too, it gave them a small window of comfort during an incredibly traumatic moment in their lives.

Douglass, also watching the debacle rolled his eyes & sipped his coffee.

“These men act like they’ve never seen tits before it’s insane.” He scoffed. Rosie almost choked on the toast he was eating.

“I mean some are freshly turned eighteen.” Blakely reminded him.

“Still, this is going to cause a huge fucking problem.” He swore. “Rosenthal, you okay?” Rosie had been staring off into the space during the duration of the conversation.

“Go to her,” Douglass sighed. “She may be oblivious but I’m not. You’ll also want to scoop her before someone like Egan does.” With that Rosie excused himself & started to head towards the medical ward. The sterile white environment contrasted heavily from the drab olive green darkness of the mess hall. Injured pilots laid in beds reading the paper, being fed their morning breakfast, or having their vitals taken. Valerie, a nurse he knew was friendly with Y/N was checking the vitals on a young sergeant.

“Val!” He said getting her attention & started over to her. “Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah, she seemed a bit off,” She started. “She begged Major to allow her to just work in supply today. You might wanna try there.”

“Thank you.” Rosie replied & made his way to the supply room. There she stood sniffling & rolling gauze. Her eyes were clouded with a melancholy look as she completed the mundane task. He knocked on the door frame causing her to look up slightly startled.

“Oh Major Rosenthal it’s you,” She said with a slight tremble in her voice. “What can I do for you?” He cringed at her using his rank, usually it would make his blood pressure rise & heart race. But this circumstance was entirely different.

“I saw what happened in the chow hall,” He started. She’s started to wipe away tears. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He said wringing anxiously. She sighed deeply & looked away.

“I’ll be alright,” She stated. “I’m just going to lay low for a few weeks.” It broke his heart to see her this way. She was always a little jumpy & anxious to begin with. This situation just poured gasoline on a oil fire.

“No,” Rosie stated. “You shouldn’t let some asshole make you feel uncomfortable.” She stared him with big wide eyes. “If it makes you feel any better I’ll escort you places.” Her eyes softened as she listened to him. A small crimson warmth crept onto her cheeks at the mere mention of him escorting her.

After a few weeks, the heat died out about the pin up nurse. Rosie & Y/N had become closer over the weeks. His protection meant no one would even try to touch a hair on her head. From lingering touches, longing gazes, & of course Rosie sitting on her nightly readings to the wounded pilots. He (like every man on post who took a liking to her) did keep a copy of the pin up photo.

On missions he’d keep the folded piece of paper tucked into the pocket of his sheepskin. A reminder of what he was protecting & fighting for. His calloused thumb would graze over her innocent smile as he admired the image. Even in his bunk, he’d spend some alone time with it after everyone had fallen asleep. During one night after the pin up photo was brought up by a rookie pilot, & in turn making Y/N uncomfortable. Rosie knew he had to make her see what he saw in the photo. After some discussions with Ken Lemmons, he decided to really make sure he was reminded everyday was he was fighting for.

With hands covering her eyes he directed her to the airstrip.

“Rosie I can’t see!” Y/N giggled, tripping over her own feet. He chuckled at her natural clumsiness. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, you’re so impatient.” He said. He lead her right up the nose to his beloved bomber. “Okay now you can see.” With the removal of his hands & a adjustment to the sunlight she was staring at herself painted on the side of his bomber. The same pin up that graced Esquire months ago that brought them together. She gasped in pure shock at the artwork.

“Oh, Rosie.” She gasped unable to speak. “Did you paint this?”

“With a little help from Lemmons.” He replied. “I want you to see what I see. A beautiful woman. Do you like it?”

“I-wow,” She smiled. “I love it.” She turned around to face him. He was staring down her, admiring the way the sun light reflected off her hair. He brushed stray strands of hair behind her ear. His hand lightly danced across her cheek bone as he stared adoringly into her eyes. He leaned down & placed a tender kiss onto her lips. She reciprocated & kissed back. Her arms wrapped around his neck & his slowly gravitated to her waist pulling her in closer. After pulling a part they rested foreheads against one another.

“God you have no idea how long I’ve always wanted to do that,” He admitted.

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree 🌳 • Part 3

3/7

read previous chapter here

(gif by @basilone)

Rosie invites Y/N to London for the weekend.

warnings: none, except lots of fluff <3

thank you to my darling friends @sagesolsticewrites & @ginabaker1666 for reading this multiple times over the past week. so grateful for you both ily.

The sun has finally parted through the clouds and covered Thorpe Abbotts in a luscious golden warmth with a slight breeze underneath it, whooshing through the thick green leaves, leaving a feeling of refreshment as you walk through it. You're happy that the weather has chosen to behave itself for once and you're finally able to enjoy it, due to it being a Bank Holiday weekend.

Your lazy Friday morning consists of sitting in your favorite armchair, still in your pajamas, hair still in their curlers, sipping a warm cup of tea and flipping through the latest issue of your favorite magazine. You remain in this blissful daze, turning pages and sipping in this deliciously cozy cornucopia you've entwined yourself into, until you hear a sharp rap on your door. Expecting it to be Mrs Howell from next door, clutching her flour box in the hopes of stealing a scoop or two from your bag to make her famous rock cakes, you answer the door without a second thought to your appearance.

On your wonky slate doorstep is Rosie, looking extremely handsome - as usual - in his dress uniform, the green coloring of it perfectly suited to his brown hair, which in the glow of the sun, you can see shining, a few red hints coming through it. You feel your eyes widen as you look down at yourself, suddenly embarrassed.

“Hi, sweetheart,” He says enthusiastically. He steps over the threshold and plants a kiss on what it meant to be your cheek but is more towards the corner of your mouth. You don't mind. You, in fact, reciprocate, your mouth absentmindedly pouting near his ear, making a kissing sound but making no contact with his face. “My, don't you look wonderful this morning. Fresh as a daisy.” You giggle, feeling your cheeks reddening.

“Hi, Rosie,” you reply sweetly, pulling him into your living room. “Tea? The pot is still warm.”

“Yes, please.”

---

After you're both settled with warm mugs in your hands, sitting in opposite armchairs, you lean your head on your hand and stare at him with a soft look in your eyes, your elbow on the arm of the chair to keep balance. “This is a nice surprise,” you say sweetly. “What's it in aid of?”

“I got a weekend pass and I'm going to London. I'd like you to come with me.”

“Rosie, I–” you stutter, mulling over his offer.

“Come on, Y/N,” He urges. “I want to take you dancing, and show you good jazz music.” He smiles broadly, his eyes growing wider with each word. You bite your lip in pretend consideration, humming a little, his face suddenly bearing an expression of suspense. “Rosie, I'd love to,” you laugh. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Then you'd better go ahead and pack,” he laughs.

---

You keep up the coziness on the train. Sitting opposite one another, you both read companionably, exchanging passages every so often. Soon enough, Rosie stops reading his book altogether, his head resting on the back of his seat. “Will you read to me?” He sees your eyes light up at his request, and he smiles softly. “Of course,” you reply, clearing your throat. “How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't.”

As you keep reading, you find your legs draped over his, his big, lovely hand upon where your Bobby sock sits, peeking out of your patent shoe. You sit like that, his hand stroking your leg ever so delicately, his fingers dancing over your skin as you watch him drift off to sleep. Suddenly, the brave man you'd been spending time with is replaced by a vulnerable little boy who needed a bedtime story to fall asleep to. Feeling your heart melt a little, you close the book as silently as possible, and watch him sleep as the countryside zooms by the window.

---

Ever the gentleman, Rosie had escorted you to your hotel room before going upstairs to his own. The room was surprisingly spacious: a large queen bed, a couch and a small desk tucked in next to a large window. You could imagine that pre-wartime, that the view would have been something to sit and gaze at. However, the window only showed you crumbled buildings below, people sifting through pieces of what used to be their home, discarding whole bricks into wheelbarrows and continuing the search for their belongings, under a cloudless blue sky that doesn't seem to fit the melancholia below it. The place is eerily silent, the only noise breaking through being an occasional birdsong.

---

Rosie had told you to be ready for 7pm. You'd napped in the lovely big bed, taking a boiling hot shower right after. Your usual bath time at the cottage looked a lot different: warming up water in a large pot over the roaring fire to dump into your copper tub. Hair washing was done over the sink, your back aching to place your head under the taps. A shower was a luxury, and you definitely took advantage of being able to wash your hair and body in the same place.

You glance at the clock after finishing up your makeup: 6.55pm. You feel nerves bubbling up inside of you as you place a yellow swing dress over your head, fumbling with the buttons as you will your hands to stop shaking. The sharp rap of knuckles on the door shocks you out of your anxious daze, taking a deep breath as you open the door.

Rosie's mouth opens to say hello, but the words seem to get stuck in his throat. His baby blue eyes soften at the sight of you, his mouth slightly agape. “Woah, Y/N,” his voice just above a whisper. He shakes his head, awestruck, seemingly trying to find words.

“What? This old thing?” you smile demurely, feeling your cheeks turning pink at the way he's looking at you. He breathes out, puffing his cheeks a little.

“You look beautiful,” He says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your cheek. “What a privilege it is to have you on my arm.”

---

The buzz of music hits you the second you walk into the dark club, horns blaring so loudly that you have to shout in one another's ears. Placing his hat down on an empty table, he offers you his hand, and immediately spins you on to the dance floor.

Spectacularly unfit and feet aching, you sit and watch Rosie dance with as many pretty dames that can get their hands on him. Taking such pleasure in watching him spin these girls off their feet, you sit and watch him intently, heat rising through your body. Not totally sure what this sensation is, you try to push it aside - but you're done for the second you see him smile, his eyes wrinkling as he dances to the music, totally in his element.

Each girl finishes the dance by kissing him on the cheek, one even planting a smooch on his mouth that catches him by total surprise, his eyes widening. You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as he walks over from the bar, clutching a martini for him and an Old Fashioned for you.

“That sure was…something,” he says, his eyes darting nervously towards you. You laugh again, and cup his cheek to get him to look at you, then pulling his ear towards your mouth.

“I don't blame them one bit, Robert,” you smile into him, both hands now on his cheek. “Pretty dames like handsome men.” He pulls away, smiling sweetly at you, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the club. You both grin at each other like that for a moment, before he gestures for your ear.

“Maybe,” He pauses, swallowing. “But you're the only pretty dame I want kissing me.” Words caught in your throat, you lean over into the small space between you and kiss him on the cheek. A slower song starts, Rosie pulling you to your feet once again.

“Heaven, I'm in heaven,

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.

I seem to find the happiness I seek,

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”

You're not sure who moves first, but you don't seem to care. Noses touching as your faces move closer together, when, finally, his mouth is capturing yours. Your hand leaves his shoulder and gently toys with the curls on the back of his neck, his plush lips moving in sync with yours sends butterflies through your entire body. His hand falls to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his other hand cupping your cheek with his thumb stroking it softly. You both break apart with a sigh, noses rubbing slightly.

“Oh, Rosie,” you whisper as the song concludes, him unable to hear it but reading your lips. He takes your hand and kisses it, leading you out of the building.

---

There's a silence between you as you wander down the quiet street, hand in hand. You shiver slightly, the chill of the night air shocking you a little. Without missing a beat, Rosie peels off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, the warmth enveloping you straight away, his sweet floral scent emanating from it. He takes your hand once again, thumbs stroking at each other's hands. A small, sweet gesture that seems to say “I'm here. I'm safe. I'm happy.”

The mixture of the freezing night air, the alcohol and the feeling of Rosie's hand in yours sends your senses haywire. Before you can think, you pull him into a dark doorway and kiss him deeply. He reciprocates immediately, as if he'd had the same idea but was too nervous to follow through with it. Breaths mingling, you pull on his tie to get him impossibly closer, your bodies flush against one another's. His hands in your hair, yours on either side of his face…it's magical. Nothing has ever felt this good before, and you feel your toes curl as he moans into you, somehow trying to make the kiss even deeper.

“Oh, darling,” you murmur as you break apart. His pretty blue eyes lock on yours as he takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for just a second.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Anything, Rosie,” you reply, leaning in to kiss him once again. He kisses your mouth three times before having you look at him.

“Will you be my girl? I know it's a little quick but–” You silence him with another kiss, smiling as your lips touch again.

“Yes, darling. Yes a million times.”

chapter four

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