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softguarnere · 4 months

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I've never participated in the lovely @blind-dates-fest before, so we're actually trying two new things this weekend: a new writing challenge, and writing for The Pacific for the first time. This OC has been banging around in my head for months now, so this seemed like a good time to introduce her - especially since she'll be making a cameo or two in one of my ongoing BOB fics. Without further ado, I hope y'all will enjoy Samantha "Mandy" Majors ♥️

The Deception of Appearances

Realistically, Mandy is aware that these are the men who are fighting for their country. The heroes of Guadalcanal can do as they please. But as MacDonald pushes his way through the bar’s crowd of wild, drinking men and boisterous women, dragging her along behind him, only one thought runs through her mind: What the hell am I doing here?

She knows, of course. She’s making money. She’s carving out a little space in journalism because, as her publisher always so kindly reminds her, the market is always changing, and fantasy stories will not be in fashion forever.

With that pleasant reminder, she lifts her chin and continues her walk into the unknown.

MacDonald struts ahead of her, openly ogling the men as if they’re an attraction at the zoo. There’s something distinctly unprofessional about the wide-eyed look that he’s always giving his subjects, like he’s got them trapped under a microscope and is poking around in their thoughts. He doesn’t seem to realize that he has a habit of making other people feel utterly invaded. Which, if Mandy had to guess, is probably why the Metropolitan Express has had her acting as his assistant for so many months. Well, that and, if she’s being honest, the fact that Duncan MacDonald cannot write to save his life.

As if reading her mind, MacDonald grabs her arm and hisses loudly in her ear to be heard over the celebrations, “Look at them! We’re bound to get a good story out of them.” Then, quietly, more urgently, “And quickly, too, because I don’t like the looks of this place.”

For once, Mandy finds herself agreeing with him. But, as is the way of the world, these things are easier said than done.

They manage to find a small table that’s miraculously unoccupied to set up shop at. Despite the look that MacDonald gives her when she orders a drink, Mandy settles in. Her boss might not want to spend any longer in this place than he has to, but that’s only because he’s not a real writer, and he doesn’t understand that the best stories come to those who are patient. These things can’t be forced, no matter how intent he seems on bending them to his will.

Besides his writing – or lack thereof – there’s the small matter of MacDonald himself. He’s too forthright, strutting up to the men and asking them bold questions with no sense of boundaries. Most respond by giving him a blank stare instead of a quote, and those who are willing to share any thoughts only give them the kind that cannot be put into print.

“Well I never,” MacDonald splutters as dark haired man with a wide smile answers his question – a completely tone deaf What’s been your favorite part of the war so far? – with a curt Wouldn’t you like to know, jackass? and a wink thrown at Mandy. MacDonald uselessly swabs his face with his handkerchief before sighing, “I don’t think this place agrees with me.” He mutters, perhaps thinking Mandy can’t hear him over the noise of the bar. “I should have stuck to vaudeville.”

I’ll drink to that, she thinks to herself as she surveys the man who’s supposed to be a war correspondent.

“He seemed to like you, though,” MacDonald says. He gives Mandy a curious look that she’s all too familiar with – one that suggests that she do all the work while he rests his delicate little mind. “Maybe you should try talking to them, without me.”

He’s throwing her to the wolves – or, more accurately, the Marines. But strangely, she finds that she doesn’t mind this time. After all, she came here to write about the war. Write about it accurately, honestly. People back home need to know what’s being fought for. And if she can lend her pen, her camera, and her typewriter to the cause, then by golly, she will.

She nods. “Not such a bad idea.” And then she leaves him there, alone at the table, before he can change his mind.

Looking for a good story is not so different from hunting, if you think about it. At the edge of the room, Mandy surveys the scene before her. The Marines may be wild, but most of them are also intoxicated, which means their lips will be loose. She can use that to her advantage. Especially now that she’s free of MacDonald.

There. From across the bar, her eyes land on the dark-haired man who winked at her earlier. He’s one of the few men not entertaining one of the bar’s local Australian girls. An easy target.

As if to prove her point about patience, someone taps her on the shoulder just as she’s about to march through the fray to reach her intended target.

A different man, this one with blond hair, blushes slightly when she turns to him. “Um, excuse me, Miss,” he says, his thick accent taking her by surprise. For just a second, she mistakes him for one of the locals before she realizes that he’s wearing an American uniform with the name Phillips on his chest.

Maybe getting a quote will be easier than she thought it would be. “Yes?”

Phillips nods across the bar to the man that was her original target. “My friend over there said you were a reporter, looking for quotes?”

Mandy nods, smiles, trying to make herself as bright and warm and trustworthy as possible. “That I am.” She holds up her notepad and taps it with a red fingernail. “You don’t happen to have one for me, do you Phillips?”

He’s not blushing anymore. He only smiles and shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. I don’t think I’m good enough with words for that kind of thing. But my friend is,” he adds before she can lose interest.

“Oh?” Mandy raises an eyebrow. “Do you think he would give me an interview?”

“I’m sure he would,” Phillips replies. “In fact, he was writing the entire time we were on Guadalcanal. He’ll probably give you some of his original notes.”

Mandy has to take a breath, remind herself not to get her hopes up. This could all be a rouse, after all, by some stranger.

But then again, even though she doesn’t know this Phillips, he doesn’t give off the energy of someone trying to pull a fast one on her. Maybe it’s just his southern charm, but she’s tempted to trust him right away.

“That would be great. Mind taking me to him?”

“Sure thing.” Phillips starts to weave through the crowd, leading her through the bar. He looks back and extends a hand part of the way through their walk. “I’m Sid Phillips, by the way.”

She accepts his hand. He’s got a firm shake. More of that southern charm, perhaps. “Samantha Majors. But my friends call me Mandy.”

As they push deeper into the bar, several men call out greetings to Phillips, slapping him on the back and palling around as they pass. Phillips returns their handshakes and smiles, only stopping to ask if anyone has seen the Professor. Most men shrug off the question, but one man finally points toward the farthest part of the bar and announces over all the noise, “Lucky is over there! Guess he needed a place to think.”

Lucky. The Professor. She’ll have to remember to ask about these nicknames during their interview. No doubt there’s a good story behind them both.

She slips her notebook out of her pocket as they walk, readies her pen as she turns to Phillips, ideas already churning in her head. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“There he is!” Phillips nods to a table in the bar’s far corner, where a small group of men sit drinking, partly obscured by shadow. “That’s him in the middle, with the curly hair. Robert Leckie.”

At the same moment that Phillips says his name, the man in question leans forward, throwing his face into light so that Mandy catches a glimpse of him for the first time. The sight makes her heart drop, and she freezes as if she’s just been caught red-handed.

“No,” she whispers. Then, in her head. It can’t be.

For a split second, she thinks that maybe her luck will be good, that she’s changed so much since their school days that he won’t recognize her. They’re not kids anymore. Maybe he’s forgotten her.

But the second that his eyes land on her, she knows that it’s no good. His expression changes quickly as he drops the thread of conversation with his friends to stare at her in confusion, then recognition. A small smile crosses his face and he stands, not frozen the way that she is.

“Sammy Majors?!” He calls, voice slightly too loud with the excitement of someone who has been drinking.

Phillips’ brow furrows as he glances between them. “You two know each other?”

“Yes,” Mandy whispers at the same time that Leckie announces, “We grew up down the street from each other!”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Phillips turns to her when he asks. “No awkward introductions to hold back your interview.”

Mandy has to force the words out of her mouth; they feel like they’re stuck to her tongue with paste. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Leckie, as usual, seems undaunted by everything before him. He shoves the man sitting next to him over and uses a grand gesture to indicate the vacated seat to Mandy. “Come join us!”

The confident demeanor that she’s worked so hard to build up all these years is slipping. With every step she takes towards him, Mandy feels like she’s clinging to it for dear life. She has to remind herself that she’s no longer Sammy Majors, the little girl who sits by the window writing fairytales because she couldn’t go out to play. She’s no longer Sammy Majors, who entered every writing competition their school hosted in vain, always losing out to lucky Robert Leckie, whose stories and poems were always so much better than hers. Robert Leckie, who had a job at the local newspaper before they had even finished high school.

As she takes the seat he offers her, one of the other men at the table laughs when he asks, “Hey, Lucky, does Vera know about this?”

Robert Leckie, who always so obviously had a crush on Vera Keller from across the street. Robert Leckie, who never seemed to realize that she existed . . . but who recognized her at first sight after all these years, and on the other side of the world, to boot.

Leckie smiles at her, so warm and open, as if his success in writing didn’t come so easily to him that it always crushed Mandy’s heart, her hopes, and her dreams. “What are you doing here?”

In response, Mandy raises her notepad and purses her lips, resetting her usual, casual demeanor that she has spent so many years working on. “I’m with the Metro Express, and my source tells me that you might be good for a quote.”

Several of his friends ooh and aah like a Greek chorus, jostling him as they laugh.

“He’s got more than just a quote for you!” One of them hoots.

“Yeah,” another man adds. “Try a whole novel!”

Mandy raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” When Leckie shrugs in response, she allows herself to smile, to be friendly, even though it goes against her better instincts. “Robert Leckie, ever the writer.”

“Fight by day, write by night.”

She makes a small scribble on her notepad to make sure her pen still works. “Well, Private Leckie. Do you have time for a quick interview?”

Leckie leans back in his seat and takes a drag off his cigarette. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as he exhales the smoke, nods. “Fire when ready, Miss Majors.”

#blind dates fest #my writing #the pacific #robert leckie #bob leckie x ofc #oc mandy majors #hbo war fanfic

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mads-nixon · 8 months

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i LOVED those chuckler headcanons - he's my absolute fave in the pacific and there's so little writing about him! could i request some more, maybe chuckler with a medic reader during wartime?

Chuckler Dating a Medic

Chuckler Juergens x Medic!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Hi anon! Thanks for the request!! Love this gif (peep my baby hoosier 🫶) this is about the fictional portrayal of the H company boys on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Being assigned to H company, you meet the boys on the ship over.

The first time Lew sees you, he has to do a complete double-take.

At first he's like, "That's a woman," and then he takes a good look at you..." Wow. that's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," type vibes.

He immediately gets a crush on you, and by the time y'all deploy to Guadalcanal, the poor fella is hopelessly in love, despite not knowing you for long.

Bill and Leckie's teasing is unending, and it's the only time you see Lew clam up and get embarrassed.

When the company first encounters the Japs at Tenaru, Lew's heart is in his throat every time he sees you dart from foxhole to foxhole, responding to the call for a corpsman.

He tried to keep tabs on you, but amongst the smoke and bullets in the air, he lost you. Even though he wanted to go searching for you, Lew knew you were good at your job and that he had his own to do, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

When morning came and the dust settled, he saw you sitting in a hole, staring off into space, your dungarees covered in blood (it's not yours). He freaks out and slides next to you, asking you a million questions.

Lew cups your cheeks gently to get you to look at him, and instinctually, you lean forward and connect your lips. It was s short kiss (really like a peck), but it shut Chuckler up, and he stared at you dumbfounded.

"You just kissed me," he says, his eyes wide.

You smile, your teeth a contrast to the dirt and blood on your face. "I did."

Then...boom, he asks you to be his girlfriend, and you ofc say yes. You've gotta keep it on the DL, but the boys know and joke about it constantly, but you also know they would take the secret to the grave if they had to.

Any time Lew would get even the slightest bit hurt, and I mean like a tiny cut on his finger or something, you'd go in full medic mode.

"I need to disinfect it," and "Let me see, hon."

Deep down, you're absolutely terrified of losing him, so you kind of go crazy making sure you do everything in your power to keep him healthy.

You're probably the mom friend of the group and always make sure they're all doing okay. In turn, Chuckler is always there for you if you want to talk about anything.

Being a medic is draining, and there are some days that you just lay in his arms at night, trying to forget the blood and death you'd witnessed that day.

By the time you got to Melbourne, you were almost to your breaking point. Seeing boys blown to bits and crying for their mothers day after day became too much.

Instead of going out and exploring, you stayed in the stadium and slept like Hoosier. You told Chuckler to go have fun, but he insisted on staying with you. He sat propped against the legs of your cot, rubbing your hand gently, trying to coax you to sleep.

As the months went on in the Australian city, everything seemed to get better, and you took advantage of the time you had with Lew.

You went to the beach, learned how to play cricket, and went on a million picnic dates.

When your orders came that you were going to ship out again, Lew went out, bought a ring, and proposed.

You say yes, and he puts the ring on a chain for you to wear.

On Cape Gloucester, you were often caught up in the medic tent treating infections and other illnesses like the enuresis that Bob ended up developing.

Pavuvu was even worse when it came to sickness. Runner was badly sick with malaria, and you and Lew were tending to him the best you could, but there wasn't much you could do.

You'd stay up all night beside his bedside, keeping tabs on his fever and making sure he didn't need anything. After a few days of this, you were dead on your feet, and Chuckler had to step in.

He'd gently urge you to bed and sit beside your cot, running his hand through your hair. Within seconds, soft snores escaped your mouth and you were out like a light.

From Pavuvu, you went to Peleliu, and nothing could ever prepare you for what you saw there. It was the bloodiest, most horrifying thing you'd witnessed so far. By the time the Marines took the airfield, Leckie, Bill, and Runner had been hit, and you had no idea where Lew was.

When you found him, you almost cried, and he engulfed you in a HUGE hug, lifting you off your feet for a moment.

The pair of you stick side by side through the campaign on Peleliu until he gets hit, and when he does, you patch him up as you try not to fall apart.

Finally, you're called back off the line, and you're by Lew's side the whole time as he's carried on the stretcher to the medical ship. You couldn't go with him, no matter how much you wanted to, so you said a tearful goodbye and kissed him softly, promising you'd see him soon.

You wrote him as you made your way through Okinawa, and you burst into tears when the news of the war's end reached you.

Lew was waiting for you when you finally got to come home. The first thing y'all do is go to the courthouse and get married!

The two of you spend the rest of your lives living outside Chicago in a small town that was quiet and peaceful, except for the trouble your kids caused when became teenagers!

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