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honeyskywitch · 22 days

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prettier than a peach (john "bucky" egan x reader)

In which you're his favorite nurse, and John Egan tries his hardest to win your heart.

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Bucky Egan is a warning all on his own. Fluffy, fluffy fluff.

Disclosure: Please do not copy my work on any other sites. I will be posting this here & on ao3 shortly. This fic is based on the characters brought to life in the Apple TV series Masters of the Air, not the real people the characters were based on.

Note: Peach!Reader is going to make many appearances, I'm going to make this a series. Without further adieu, enjoy.

It all started on a Saturday morning. It was early—really early. You hadn't really expected to have anyone walking around near the infirmary, but at half past 0300, you heard the sounds of heavy footfalls, with slurred speech and another low voice arguing.

You get up to look out the window, and not a second goes by before the door swings open. You recognize the two men instantly: Major Gale "Buck" Cleven is half dragging Major John "Bucky" Egan into the infirmary.

"Morning, ma'am." Major Cleven's blue eyes zero in on you immediately, and he offers you a kind (and apologetic) smile. "My buddy here had a bit too much to drink and got himself into a scuffle with some guys at the bar."

Your gaze flickers to Major Egan, studying him with a calculating gaze. He's going to have a black eye, you notice, and he's holding onto the left side of his ribs. It's not the first time you've heard of the Major getting into a fight, but it's the first time it's happened on your shift.

"Alright, Major." You're addressing Egan now, coming to his side to support his left side. "Let's get you settled in bed so I can take a look at those ribs."

You are wholly unprepared for the absolute human hurricane that is Major John Egan.

"Tryin' to get me in bed already, doll?" His words are slurred from too much alcohol, but his voice is deep and husky, and you hate the way it makes you shiver. "I don't even know your name."

Major Cleven sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes. "John Clarence Egan." That accent drawls his friend's name, and his tone is very much annoyed. "You're in the presence of a lady—a nurse—for crying out loud. Behave."

"Oh, c'mon, she walked right into that one." He insists, "She thought it was funny. You thought it was funny, right, doll?"

Stormy blue eyes are suddenly fixed on your face. It's almost like time stops for you; of course you've seen him around before, but the moment you really look into his eyes, it's like you can see your whole life ahead of you. He's quiet now, just watching you, and he finds himself absolutely anamored with the delicate blush working its way onto your face.

"It was a little funny." You admit it, but you don't meet his eyes again. You're too afraid of what you'll see on his face, because while you're falling hard and fast at first sight, he's only flirting with a woman. That's all it is to him, you're sure of it.

His chest is warm when you open his jacket and roll up his shirt. You have to ignore how beautifully masculine he is on order to focus on your job. Your eyes flicker to his abdomen, and sure enough, there are wicked bruises starting to show on the skin that covers his ribs. You're pretty sure they're not broken, but you have to be sure.

"This may hurt." You warn him, your fingers prodding gently at his side, and he hisses quietly under his breath. You don't feel anything out of place, but he'll definitely need a few hours of rest and something to ease the pain.

"Your hands are freezing." He grumbles, and before you can say anything, he's got both of them in his much bigger, warmer hands. "There, that's better."

"You're unbelievable, John Egan." Major Cleven speaks up from behind you, his tone more exasperated than anything else.

You carefully extract your hands from Major Egan's, and you try to ignore the way he pouts when you're no longer touching him. "I'll keep him overnight for observation, Major Cleven. Make sure he rests and heals up a bit."

Major Cleven looks strangely relieved, but still, he frowns. "Are you sure? I can handle Bucky; I don't want him causing you any trouble."

His gentle demeanor makes you smile. "I appreciate that, Major, but I've dealt with far rowdier men than Major Egan here. You go on and get some rest; I'll handle this."

Major Egan looks irritated that you and his best friend were talking about him like he wasn't even there. "Just call me Bucky. Or I'll take John." He tells you, his tone demanding, his lips pulled into yet another pout.

"You behave yourself." Major Cleven points a finger at him, his face stern. When he turns back to you, he offers another warm smile. "You might as well call me Buck, too, since you're saving me from trying to sleep in the same room as that one while he's drunk."

You offer your name in return, and you offer a comforting smile as you shoo Buck off to bed.

It's quiet for a moment after the other Major takes his leave. You wonder if the alcohol has made Major Egan fall asleep. You're surprised to see his eyes open and staring directly at you when you turn around.

"Can't remember if I've ever seen you around before." He says, his words still slightly slurred as he speaks. You can't recall ever having heard a voice like his before. Gravely, warm and steady, even with alcohol in his system. "I'd remember that face; you're so pretty."

"And you're drunk." You answer, turning away before he can notice that you're blushing. You've dealt with flirty airmen before, but this is the first time it's really gotten to you. "Get some rest, Major."

He's quiet for a moment, and you're grateful for a reprieve from the flirting as you mark the log book with a pencil. The only noise for a few moments is the lead scratching against the paper as you write.

"I'm gonna call you Peach."

When you turn back, his lips tug into the most heart-stopping smirk you've ever seen. "You could just call me Nurse." You point out, and for some reason, that only seems to egg him on.

"Well, I like Peach. You're prettier than a peach. Sweet as one too; look at that blush." You're sure you've forgotten how to breathe.

"You're a menace." You answer after you've finally gotten a hold of your emotions. "And it's early; you need rest. Sleep."

"How about a goodnight kiss first?" You almost toss the log book at him. Almost. "Just one on the forehead, and then I'll sleep. Scout's honor, Peach."

You sigh, your eyes darting over his face for a moment. Sure, he's a flirt, but you've never heard of him ever harming a woman. So you walk over to his bedside and lean down.

His forehead is warm, an errant curl tickling your cheek as your lips press against his skin. You feel him shudder under the touch of your lips against him, but then his breathing evens back out as you lean away.

"Alright, Major, you got your kiss. Now sleep." He doesn't miss the way your eyes flicker to his lips and away again, but he does as he's told and rolls over onto his side.

After he falls asleep, the morning is quiet. Your shift at the infirmary ends at 0600 and the nurse who comes to relieve you doesn't seem surprised to see Bucky there. She rolls her eyes and huffs a laugh as you explain how he came to be in a bed in the infirmary.

He's shifting awake as you're leaving, and his blue eyes have just enough time to focus on your retreating form before you're gone. He was a little saddened; he'd been hoping for one more kiss.

Outside, the air is still cool, and the sun is just beginning to peek beyond the horizon. The inky blackness of the sky is lightening to a shade of blue that looks like Major Egan's eyes, and God, you have to stop thinking about him. You really didn't need to get attached.

You pass Buck on the way back to your quarters, and he waves at you with one of his dazzling smiles as he passes. He's wearing his uniform, and you know that means he'll be out in the sky soon enough. You return his smile and wave happily.

Exhaustion sweeps through you as you enter your quarters, and you make quick work of taking your hair pins out and wiping your makeup off. By the time your head hits the pillow, sleep pulls you under. The only things on your mind as you fall asleep are dark curls and blue eyes.

***

Hours later, you blink awake. There's still sunlight flittering in through the curtains over your window, and you sit up to stretch your arms and shoulders. It had to be close to dinnertime, and your stomach rumbles as you slip out of bed and dress in your uniform. Sometimes you missed your dresses back home, but you always felt a sense of pride in your olive drab skirt and jacket. You make sure to swipe on your Victory Red lipstick before you leave.

Placing your cover under your arm, you slip out of your barracks just to come face-to-face with a man. Not just any man, either.

"Peach!" He's still loud, his face wide and warm and friendly. His breath smells like the peppermint gum he's chewing, and his eyes are clear. "Don't think I didn't see you slip out of the room before I could ask for my morning kiss."

He's smiling so brightly that it's like looking at the sun. He's all white teeth and dark curls and blue eyes, his cover tucked under his arm. He's got a single flower in his free hand. You've never seen someone look so devastatingly beautiful.

"Major." You greet him, and it's a good thing you didn't put on blush when refreshing your makeup because your face is hot now. Just from looking at him. "What brings you to the women's barracks?"

"I told you, Peach. Call me Bucky. Or John." His grin never falters. You want to kiss the corner of his mouth, nip at the jawline. He's got so much energy and vitality, and your heart beats so loudly that it's a wonder he can't hear. "Well, I came to offer you this gorgeous flower I found on my way over here and ask if you'd like to dance with me tonight."

You'd forgotten all about the party tonight. A crew completing their 25th mission—you hadn't really planned on attending, but you find yourself very tempted to go. "I'm not really the party type." You admit that, and that dims the light in his eyes a little. You regret the words immediately.

"Just one dance." He steps in closer, taking up more space. He's so tall and broad-shouldered; the man takes up so much room that it makes you feel small in the best way. "For your favorite patient? After all, you did give me a good-night kiss. That's gotta count for something."

Your mind rewinds to that moment, when he was fever-warm and shivering under your lips, when you'd wanted so badly to let him kiss you all over. If you weren't blushing before, you sure are now. "Alright, Bucky," You have to ignore the way he lights up when you use his nickname. "One dance."

#bucky egan x reader #bucky egan #john egan x reader #john bucky egan x reader #mota fic #snow writes.

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blurredcolour · 17 days

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The Only Truth... | Part Three

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x POW Flight Nurse!Female Reader

There are all sorts of hazards inside a Prisoner of War camp - guards, disease, injury, infection. One that none of you were banking on was the weather itself. Despite it all, and a severe lack of time to linger in one another's presence, you still find yourself growing ever closer to a certain Major.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Death, Blood, Disease, Reader Scars, Hospital Setting, POW Camp Setting, Kissing, SS Officers, Depictions of Nazi Atrocities Against Russian Soldiers, Threats, Fear, Mental Health Struggles, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - 18+ ONLY.

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

Word Count: 6337

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April 21, 1945

Despite heeding your request and allowing others to bear the body of the late Freddy Simms, the boy whose name he learned only after his death, from the hospital to the corner of the camp where other bodies were also awaiting transport to the graveyard, Bucky still found himself tremendously sore the next morning. If not for roll call, he would have much preferred to remain on his makeshift sleeping palette tucked beneath the eaves of a fully occupied tent only half-protected from the elements. As it was, the resident goons needed him upright and counted, and so, with no shortage of grunting and grimacing, he had forced himself up and into line.

Considering the overwhelming population present, it was a wonder the guards did not just spend all day counting the prisoners to satisfy their twice daily checks. A few mouthfuls of broth later and Bucky had just lain back down to rest before it seemed like he was having to repeat the arduous process all over again. It had taken another day of rest to recover from his overexertion, but when he awoke this morning, things seemed a little less torturous. The warmth in the sunshine certainly helped, and he felt energized enough to accompany the delivery of the hot loaves of dense, black bread to the hospital. As his eyes scanned the rows of cots in the tent and then the clapboard building, he barely concealed his frown as you seemed nowhere to be found.

“Major, would you mind taking this pail of bandages out back for me? The Nurse seemed to miss them when she collected the laundry this morning.” There was a knowing tone to Chalmers’ request that made him swallow sheepishly, his ears heating up slightly, but he quickly nodded.

Grabbing the rather light pail with the hand of his uninjured side, he walked down the hallway to drop off a loaf of bread in your sparse quarters, brows furrowing at the lack of windows therein, before continuing out the back door. The sight of you crouched beside a basin, sleeves rolled up as you scrubbed at the sudsy rags with a large pot of bandages boiling away on a small fire nearby was so utterly domestic, Bucky could not help but let his mind wander. To imagine you in a kinder place doing something so very mundane without the fear of being shot or starved to death. That was where you ought to be – not here trying to scrub blood and other filth out of tattered cotton under the thumb of SS goons.

Bucky swallowed painfully as you paused a moment to smooth some errant strands of hair from your face and he was able to fully see the painful scars on your left arm. Scars that he had previously caught small glimpses of, despite your best efforts to hide them from him, but the full extent of them made his skin ache in sympathy. That explained why your nightmares featured fire.

Your sharp inhale, swiftly following by the sound of your boot impacting the pail behind you, pulled him from his reverie. Sent his eyes flying back up to see your horrified expression. You were frantically tugging down the rolls of your sleeve as you backed away from him, gait horribly off balance due to the obstacle you had encountered, and he was both afraid you would fall over and that he had offended you. Dropping his own pail, Bucky once again found himself chasing after you across the small, mud-filled yard behind the hospital, sliding his arms around you to haul you tight against his chest.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It just looks like it hurt a lot.” He murmured into your hair, hating the way your entire body was rigid and stiff against him.

There was an agonizing, drawn-out silence where the ambient sounds of the camp bled into the intimate moment until finally some of the tension melted from you.

Sniffing indignantly, you muttered against his chest, “it did. Well not at first, I was too busy trying to get out of the damn plane and take my surgical tech with me. But after…” He felt your head bob in a nod against him and he pressed a reassuring hand between your shoulder blades.

“He make it?” Bucky whispered, immediately feeling guilty for prying, but he could not take back the words now.

“Fitz? Yeah, he’s here – helps out at the hospital once a week…” You leaned back in his arms to look at him with dewy eyes, that wicked grin tugging at your lips and the depth of his longing to kiss you took his breath away. “Don’t see him quite as often as certain prisoners, though.” You teased, making him grin warmly in response.

“Maybe I’m still a patient in a way, angelfish. Maybe you’re still healing me.” He had meant to parry your jest with one of his own, but instead all that had come out was a vulnerable truth, and you both stood there, eyeing one another intensely before Bucky felt your arms, previously trapped against his chest, slide around him properly.

The way you pulled him closer should have felt comforting, reassuring, but instead all it resulted in was a lightning bolt of pain ripping through his back and he was barely able to smother the resulting hiss. You pulled back quickly, fairly ripping yourself from his arms as you frowned at him with your hands on your hips.

“John Egan you are still very injured.” You chided, gripping his shoulders to maneuver and guide him back to the stairs before forcing him down to sit on the edge of them.

“Like it when you say my full name, angelfish. Middle name’s Clarence if you want to really give it all you got.” He smirked up at you incorrigibly and you huffed in what he hoped was a mix of fondness with that obvious infuriation.

“Don’t think I won’t add that to my arsenal Major. Now you stay right there, that way I know you’re not off getting yourself into more trouble.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He grinned, loathe to admit it aloud, but it really did feel better to be sitting down.

Nodding sharply, you grabbed his abandoned pail of bandages to add them to the pot of water, fanning the flames of your small fire until they burned hotter to boil off anything infectious, before returning to your bucket of rags. You continued to scrub at them, casting scrutinizing glances his way every so often before transferring them to a rinse bucket.

“Did you really meet the Pope?” Bucky suddenly asked the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since he had heard you speak the words to the Simms boy.

“Yes, I did.” You nodded, wringing out the clean rags one at a time before draping them across your ersatz clothesline. “The whole squadron did.”

“You were in Italy then…” He mused quietly and you nodded with a quiet hum of agreement, the pair of you swapping information without giving too much away to anyone who might be listening in. “Well I definitely did not meet the King.”

Your sudden peal of laughter had him both grinning and bristling defensively.

“That far-fetched an idea, hmm, angelfish?” He raised an eyebrow demandingly and your hand pressed against your lips, trying to smother giggles you seemed to be unable to stop. “Alright, alright… If I wasn’t stuck on these steps on your orders.” He threatened playfully, basking in the way that only made you throw your head back and laugh harder.

God, you did not belong in this place.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You apologized as he huffed, coming over to tousle his hair fondly.

It took all his willpower not to press up into your touch like some demanding housecat. Slinging an arm around your waist, he pulled you down to sit on his broad thigh.

“Think all this hard work is making you hysterical, angelfish, take a load off.”

“Bucky…” You murmured, reluctantly holding your full weight off him until he forced your hips down fully.

“Rest dammit, isn’t that what you’re always tell me to do?”

“But you’re actually injured…”

“So were you. They let you rest when this was fresh?” He asked softly, fingertips trailing across the abnormally smooth yet ridged surface of your burned and healed flesh.

Bucky could feel you twitching slightly in his arms, obviously not entirely certain how you felt about his touch on your scar and so he shifted to lace his fingers through yours instead.

“There were too many people to help.” You sighed. “Still are, I–”

“Just sit another minute. Can’t save ‘em all if you’re too tired to stand up.”

Your fingers closed around his as you exhaled shakily, head coming to rest on his shoulder. “I do want to save them all…and it’s never enough.”

“I know.” He whispered squeezing your side, lips brushing against your forehead.

The sound of voices caught his attention then – voices growing louder, growing closer. You leapt from his lap, and he reluctantly released you, assuming a casual posture as you grabbed a long stick to pull sterilized bandages from the pot and dump them into the sudsy water for scrubbing. Two guards rounded the corner, immediately barking at him.

“What are you doing back here?!”

“Hospital staff only, get out of here now.”

“Major Chalmers asked me to assist the Nurse, you can confirm it with him.” Bucky replied with a shrug, watching your eyes widen with curiosity.

“We will go confirm with him together, up.” The first guard spoke again, and Bucky rose stiffly, nodding to you before they led him inside.

------------

As you awoke the next morning to the sound of rain hammering against the roof, you were filled with relief that you had managed to wash and dry all of the laundry yesterday. It was still waiting in its baskets to be folded, but it would hold until your next free moment. Forcing yourself to feel satisfied with a few slices of the loaf of that black bread that had appeared in your room – you held your suspicions that Bucky may have played a role in its arrival – you dressed and emerged as your door was unlocked, blinking in surprise as Fitzgibbons entered the hospital along with Chalmers and Menzies.

You had honestly lost track of the days, a serious risk in the camp, and the fact that it was now Sunday, his shift and your day of rest, had completely slipped your mind. As a medically trained Sergeant, it was well within Chalmers’ rights to order Fitzgibbons to work in the hospital more often, but an early clash of personalities between Menzies and your surgical technician meant that his presence was only requested on a more limited basis.

“Morning Ma’am. Brought you a book to try and keep you off your feet.” He held out a battered paperback and you shook your head with a fond sigh as you accepted the copy of The Great Gatsby.

“Thank you, Fitz…sure you boys don’t need any help today?”

“You can help us by taking the day off as intended, Nurse.” Chalmers replied in a tone that brooked no argument and you nodded, retreating to your room to sit at the small table to crack open the book curiously.

The selection of reading material in the Red Cross library in camp was limited, dated. This book had been published twenty years ago, and you had a feeling you might have read it before, but it was hopefully going to keep you relaxed and your mind off the dozens of tasks you felt like you ought to be doing instead. Despite your predilection to turn inward and get caught up in an overwhelming sea of introspection, the story proved engaging enough to lose yourself in until a knock on the door jamb startled you.

“Mail call.” One of Bucky’s friends stood there, the blond with the gold teeth, grinning. He had a box tucked beneath his arm.

Confusion bloomed unabated across your face as you had not once received a piece of mail since you had been taken prisoner in January. No one had.

“I didn’t think that we were getting mail…” You slid a piece of scrap paper into the book to save your place.

“We’re not, Hambone, stop confusing angelfish.” Bucky appeared over his friend’s shoulder and snagged the box out from under his arm. “It’s those Red Cross boxes we thought we might get.”

“Man, I just wanted to say it once, still a kind of mail.” He grumbled as he strode back down the hall.

Bucky sighed, shaking his head as he set the box down on your table. “Sorry if he got your hopes up.”

Laughing dryly, you set your book down to pry open the already portioned box – each package meant for two servicemen. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned not to expect anything here.”

Spotting the can of powdered milk you held it out to him. “You take this.”

“Angelfish, why are you giving me your rations?” Bucky eyed you suspiciously and you raised an eyebrow in response.

“You’re healing bones and I’m not?”

“At least take half, put it in one of your old cans…”

Glaring at him a moment, you relented with a sigh, unable to deny the fact that it would be nice to have some to add to the bitter coffee. Digging through the remnants of your last box, you found the empty can from the allotment of powdered milk that had arrived in February and began decanting half of the fresh supply.

“You haven’t gotten a single letter? Not even your parents?” He asked quietly, leaning against the door frame.

Swallowing tightly, you slid the metal lid back into place on the cannister, shaking your head. “Figure things must be pretty bad if they can’t get the mail through. Not that I got a lot of mail before but…” You shrugged and held out the powdered milk to him. “Pretty sure it’s got a hole so use it quick.”

Stepping forward to take it carefully, Bucky’s eyes traced over your face curiously. “No handsome fella desperate for your scented stationery, angelfish? I find that hard to believe.”

You could not help but roll your eyes with a sarcastic noise. “Fellas don’t want girls like me, Bucky. They want some pretty thing waiting back home with the time to write pages long letters in looping cursive and those saucy acronyms and pretty spritzes of perfume. Not girls who spent so much time making a living they forgot to make a life.” Your eyes dropped to study the cans of corned beef, of ham, the fresh box of crackers, and small block of American cheese in your ration box. “I’m sure you’ve got a beautiful girl waiting stateside. Sweet and kind and not a whisp of a scar on her. Doesn’t know the sound of jackboots on floorboards or how to use a parachute or what it looks like when the life leaves someone’s eyes. That’s the kind of girl a man like you deserves, Bucky. To completely forget this nightmare even happened. Not this beat up, grungy, girl who wouldn’t even remember which fork to use at the dinner table–”

You barely registered the press of his lips against yours at first, mouth fumbling against his as you continued your litany of reasons why you were utterly unsuitable for him until at last you became fully aware of his warm palms cupping your cheeks, his kiss growing firmer until you stilled against him. An exhale sighed its way through your nose as the tension seeped from your bones, melting against his tantalizingly firm and broad chest. With a noise of deep reluctance, you forced yourself back, licking your lips slightly.

“You could get yourself in serious trouble doing things like that John…”

“Long as it’s not in trouble with you, angelfish.” He murmured fondly, tracing his fingertips along the curves of your ears before slowly pulling them back, tracing your jaw as he went, your nerve endings shimmering in the wake of his touch. “I just couldn’t bear to hear another word of that horseshit.”

A smirk tugged lazily at your lips, the tender flesh of them still humming slightly. “So if I spout nonsense, I get kissed, is that how this arrangement works?”

He exhaled sharply through pursed lips. “You can just ask, too. No need for all the absurd self-deprecations. Because the ‘fellas’ you speak of are idiots. You are a damn treasure, angelfish. Anyone who can’t see it isn’t worth your time.”

Feeling moisture gathering at your lash line, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and hauled him in to lay a firm kiss of appreciation on his lips, briefly glimpsing his look of surprise before your mouths collided. Mindful of his ribs, you slid your other hand to his hair, holding him close as his arms encircled your waist.

“I like this ‘arrangement.’” He breathed against your mouth when the pair of you were forced to come up for air.

“Mmmm. Well you’d better get out of here before someone comes looking for you.” You muttered, not making a move to release him.

“Absolutely.” He replied, only pulling you closer into him.

“Bucky…” You sighed, tone not nearly admonishing enough.

“Thirty more seconds.” He whispered.

The unmistakable and aforementioned sound of jackboots scraping across hardwood echoed down the hall and you started to shove at him. “Goon, goon!” You hissed and he back pedaled quickly to the threshold of the room, cradling the powdered milk under his arm.

“I tried reading that book, didn’t really understand the green light business.”

Chest heaving, you furrowed your brows, watching him gesture sharply to the paperback on the table beside your ration box and you inhaled in recognition.

“I think it’s some kind of metaphor in futility?” You blurted out, a long-lost lecture on the novel suddenly flooding back to your rescue as a guard strode past him down the hall, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Yeah, got enough of that in my real life.” Bucky huffed with easy nonchalance before shrugging. “Well, see you around, Nurse.”

“Thank you again, Major.” You nodded, desperately trying to even out your shaky breaths as Bucky disappeared down the hall and the guard continued out the back door, sending you slumping into your chair in relief.

Your trembling fingers traced the tiny smile that curled at your lips, not at all certain what had just transpired, but things between yourself and Bucky had definitely changed.

What most certainly did not change was the weather. The deluge persisted through the night and into the next day, Chalmers and Menzies arriving mud-splattered and damp after being released from their combines. The humidity was of absolutely no help to Desmond Brown, an infantryman from Pennsylvania who had been battling pneumonia for nigh on a week now. Dusty, as he was affectionately known, only seemed to grow weaker, and you were quite dismayed to note a bluish tinge to his fingernails and around his lips today.

“Won’t be long now.” Menzies uttered as you made your rounds and you nodded silently. “Doubt we have anything to prop him up and make him more comfortable?”

Scouring the hospital with your gaze, you shook your head with a frown. “I’ll move his cot against the wall and try to prop him against it – not the best but better than…” You left the fact that he surely felt as though he was drowning in his own fluids unspoken.

Menzies was smart enough to understand and nodded firmly. “Try and sit with him as much as you can today.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded and the pair of you parted ways to put your various treatment plans into action.

Pushing the cot flush against the wall, even with its occupant still in place, was not terribly difficult. Malnourishment and illness had devoured much of Dusty’s muscle mass, though you did need a moment to catch your breath and recover, given that you too were three months into your POW diet. What proved hardest was keeping the man propped upright. Any time you would leave his side to check on another patient or help one of the surgeons with a task, you would find him slumped to the side or slid down into what he deliriously claimed was a more comfortable position.

Most concerning of all, a soft rattle had taken up residence in the back of his throat, audible with each exhale. It was worryingly known as the ‘death rattle’ and usually signalled the end was not far off. Fetching a cool cloth, you settled him into the most comfortable yet still propped-up position you could manage with a combination of his pillow and blanket and the wall before laying the cloth across his fevered forehead. Dusty blinked his glassy hazel eyes at you once, then twice, before his eyelids fell shut for the last time. His labored, rattled breathing continued on for a remarkable duration, and all the while you sat at his bedside, cradling his hand in yours.

You tried to remember sweet things to talk about – spring and its flowers, family dinners, Hershey bars from his native Pennsylvania, anything at all so he would know he was not alone. The men in the adjacent beds grew quiet, the only sound the insistent rain striking the roof and the fading breaths of your patient until even those were gone too. Confirming Dusty had passed by checking his pulse, you shifted his body to lay flat on the cot and covered him with the blanket, standing with a start to find Bucky leaning against the wall, soaked to the skin, watching quietly.

“You know where his friends are bunking?” He asked in a hushed voice, and you nodded, fishing out his chart to find the number of his combine, providing it softly. “I’ll tell ‘em.”

“Thank you, Major Egan.” You nodded, looking quickly as Menzies arrived to note the time of death as you glanced back at another meaningless loss, wondering when it could all just be over.

Bucky’s knuckles brushed against yours gently and you offered him the ghost of a smile before Chalmers was calling for you. “Try and stay dry, this is perfect trench foot weather.” You gave him a meaningful look, willing him to not become another tally on the death sheet, another hole in the POW graveyard.

Bucky nodded sharply in return. “Doin’ my best, angelfish.”

“Good.” You breathed before rushing off to try and keep someone else alive.

Another night, followed by another day of incessant rain, had the yard outside resembling a sea of mud. It kept everyone trapped indoors, even the prisoners who had been sleeping outside found their fellow men making room wedged between sleeping palettes lest people get swept away in the night. There was no meeting Bucky out back whilst doing laundry, nor any excuse to sneak off to quiet corners for a moment of privacy. There was simply too much to do and so all you were able to share, when he and his compatriots delivered another allotment of black bread that day, was an intense look of yearning before duty pulled you away once more.

The state of the tent had been weighing on your mind as it sagged lower and lower beneath the three-day onslaught of water, and it was no surprise when the canvas gave way the morning of the 25th, a mighty sound of rending fabric echoing through the space. A deluge of frigid, accumulated rainwater poured down onto the three men who had the misfortune of being positioned below the gaping tear, its ragged ends flapping in the breeze. Grabbing some towels of rough cotton, you were rushing along the slickened wooden floor to try and move them, dry them off, when the entire corner of the tent lurched and collapsed with a groan and further cries of distress.

“Help!!” Was all you had the mental capacity to yell in the face of the sight before you, hoping to summon Menzies and Chalmers.

To your immense surprise and relief, a flood of men began to pour in from the yard, most likely summoned by the sight of the collapse, but also perhaps your scream. As the lot of you began to unearth men from beneath the debris, you recognized Bucky’s friend with the gold teeth – Hambone, he had called him – as well as the brunette who had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt over ‘angel face.’

“Where should we put ‘em, angelfish?” Bucky’s voice broke through the cacophony from behind you and you turned back to him quickly, wondering when he had arrived.

“In the hall, towards my room.” You thought quickly on your feet, the very last available space in the hospital coming to mind.

With over half of the tent still intact, you worked with the group of volunteers to reinforce the structure that remained standing and ensure the men resting there were all right. Mercifully, the rain slowed for the first time in days, before stopping altogether. Barricading off the collapsed portion of the tent with the sodden, unusable cots, you turned to take stock of the rest of the patients, pleased to find them resting as comfortably as possible. You were drenched and filthy, but that was a secondary concern. Squelching your way inside, you gnawed on your lip to see a total of eight patients now sheltered in the hall with no bedding to speak of.

The feel of a towel being draped over your shoulders jerked your head to the right to see Bucky roughly rubbing at his dripping curls with a towel of his own.

“I am once again in your debt, Major Egan.” You sniffed, wringing out your shirt slightly into the rough cotton.

“Don’t mention it. I’m guessing the only beds you have for them are out there in Lake Moosburg?”

A small, incredulous snort escaped you despite your ragged state and he huffed an exhausted laugh in reply. Shaking your head with a sigh, you furrowed your brows. “We’ve got nothing but a few more towels, and an abundance of dirty rags and bandages…It stopped raining though.” You tagged on the tiniest piece of good news and lifted your knuckles to rap against the wooden wall for good luck, to help it hold, grinning fondly as he practically mirrored the motion.

“Small mercies. I’ll see if I can convince some of the others to part with their blankets in the name of the unwell. I’ll be back, angelfish.”

“You’re a good man, John Clarence Egan.” You murmured tenderly.

Bucky froze, eyeing you intently, unmoving. Not even breathing for nearly a minute before he exhaled heavily. “Suppose you did warn me you’d weaponize my full name, angelfish…” He rasped, fingers wrapping around your wrist to squeeze in a subtle but emotive gesture, his thumb stroking across the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, making you shiver.

“Sorry.” You whispered, having not anticipated the heaviness of the blow it would land, but Bucky quickly shook his head.

“I look forward to you almost killing me again, soon.” He smirked and squeezed one last time before releasing his grip on you to head outside, sloshing his way around the camp to scrounge up enough bedding to keep the displaced patients comfortable.

A variety of guards and their officers came to inspect the damage throughout the day, Lieutenant Colonel Clark making his presence felt as he appeared on Bucky’s heels and immediately demanded the tent be repaired to provide appropriate care for the men.

The next morning dawned sunny for the first time since the 21st, but the cheer brought by the change of the weather was significantly dampened by the appearance of the skeletal figures of Russian labourers. You had glimpsed them from time to time through the barbed wire of the fence behind the hospital, ghoulish figures forced to work in the kitchens, on camp maintenance and repairs, and burying the dead, but you had never been this close to them before. Clearly summoned to complete the repairs on the corner of the hospital tent, they moved in a slow shuffle, clothing barely more than limp rags around their spindly frames. Rumor had it they did not even receive Red Cross ration boxes, subsisting solely on the scraps provided by the SS camp administrators.

Your heart ached at the sight, and you longed to smuggle them food or something of comfort, but they were, at all times, surrounded by a ring of guards to keep them separate. To keep them apart from the rest of the POWs. Casting sympathetic glances their way, you collected the rest of the cots and bedding they unearthed from beneath the partial collapse and shifted it all outside to dry out in the sunshine, noting the increased presence of guards kept Bucky and his compatriots from dropping by.

You assumed the same would be true throughout the 27th as well, however, shortly after the sun reached its zenith, you straightened from a patient’s bedside to see him leading in an unfamiliar face, the shorter man cradling a bloody hand to his chest.

“McLeod here sliced himself good on one of the ration tins.”

“Sorry to trouble you, Ma’am, it just won’t seem to stop bleeding.” The Scottish brogue tumbling from McLeod’s lips matched his shock of red hair impeccably, even if it was a bit difficult to decipher.

“Take a seat right here and we’ll take a look.” You smiled and gestured to one of the freshly dried cots, wedged between other patients at it awaited the completion of its normal resting place.

As you perched on the edge of the cot beside him, setting a pile of bandages in your lap, you noted Bucky eyeing the crowd of SS guards and their waif-like labourers hard at work in the corner of the tent. Gathering McLeod’s injured hand in yours, you gently dabbed at the blood pooling in his palm, nodding as the depth of his cut was revealed.

“Think you might need some stitches here, let me fetch the surgeon.” You smiled reassuringly, pressing a wad of bandages over the wound, coaxing him to apply pressure to it before approaching Chalmers who was working just a few beds away from the construction zone.

The clatter of tools striking the wooden floor caught your attention before the frail body of a workman collapsed to the ground. Acting on instinct, you surged forward to check on him, a professional hazard when on duty in a hospital. The nearest guard, not quite so tall as the others and thereby twice as mean to make up for it, barked at you sharply.

“Get back, schwester.”

He gave you little warning before the butt of his rifle cracked against your shoulder, making you lurch back in pain and chastisement. The cramped quarters combined with the mud-slickened floorboards to send you sprawling backwards onto your hip, mortified, but as you immediately tried to scramble back up to your feet, a wall of humanity was in your way.

“She’s just tryna do her job, keep your shirt on.” You recognized Bucky’s terse growl first, followed by Chalmer’s British accent, made all the crisper in his annoyance.

“You would strike a woman who is only trying to help an unwell man?!”

Sliding backward across the slimy wood, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder.

“Let’s get you on your feet, lass.” McLeod grasped your elbow with his uninjured hand and hoisted you up despite the way your boots seemed reluctant to find purchase on the ground, holding you steady until you nodded that you were, in fact, stable.

“Nein!” The guard shouted back through the men who had formed a barricade between you. “No help!”

Frowning deeply you balled your fists to see the Russian POW laying in the mud, unaided, unacknowledged by any of the guards or his fellow labourers.

“Nurse, go get cleaned up.” Chalmers’ orders snapped your eyes to his face, and you swallowed tightly before turning on your heel, making your way to the utility room to fetch some water.

You could vaguely hear the surgeon arguing for the man’s life as you transitioned from the tent into the main hospital building, but you narrowed your focus to carefully stepping over the men sheltering in the hallway. To trying not to cry at the meaninglessness of it all. Stopping at your room to grab your wash basin, you looked yourself over in the mirror, sighing as you were thankfully not as mud stained as Chalmers’ order led you to believe. Bucky’s reflection as he peered into the room made you turn sharply to face him, gulping back tears as there were patients just steps away.

“You hurt?” He asked softly, seizing your hands.

You shook your head quickly. “Just a little bruised, but I’ll live.”

Bucky tugged on your hands to pull you against him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. “You’d better.”

Burrowing your face into his neck, you could only muster a nod in reply, clinging to him, careful not to hurt him, until you felt able to take more than just the tiniest sips of air for breaths. As the crushing weight lifted from your chest, you lifted your head to look at him apologetically. “Sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, angelfish, you were just trying to help that poor man.” He sighed, pressing his lips to your forehead. You felt one of his hands leave your back and heard him huff a laugh. “You might want to change your shirt though, your back’s covered in mud.”

Tensing, you craned your neck to look over your shoulder, muttering bitterly. “So that’s what Major Chalmers meant…”

“I’ll get you some fresh water and make myself scarce, too many goons watching.”

Nodding softly, you passed him the basin, hoping the construction would be done soon and things could go back to their bleak yet relative normalcy. As if hearing your wishes for the first time in months, the universe actually conspired to have the repairs to the hospital tent completed that evening, all eight patients returned to the cots in the corner, the hallway cleared. Everyone seemed to breathe a little easier that night as you settled them down for sleep, awaking to yet another gloriously sunny day and finally the chance to catch up on the overwhelming backload of laundry.

Setting your water to boil out back and prepping your wash basins, you returned to the hospital to collect the pails of rags and used bandages, smiling warmly as you found Chalmers in conversation with Bucky about one of the American patients. He sent you a friendly nod without breaking his concentration and you bent down to grab the pail that rested between the central desk and the cot where one of the medium-term residents, Pete Thompson from Ohio, was recovering quite well.

“Nurse, you gotta be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He gushed, as he was prone to do, fluttering his long, dark eyelashes.

The young man had lain it on pretty thick since the moment he had arrived several weeks ago, before traversing a brutal course of bronchitis, which he was thankfully coming out the other side of.

“Oh come off it, Thompson.” You laughed warmly. “You boys are so desperate for female company, I’m sure you would propose to Eleanor Roosevelt if she had the misfortune of crossing your paths in this place.”

The guffaw your joke earned had you grinning brightly in return, and you made sure he was comfortable before turning to grab the last couple buckets, blinking to find them in Bucky’s hands.

“This all of ‘em?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded, leading him out the back way to set your load down in the nearly dry yard.

You hard barely turned around when his lips were crashing into yours, hands gripping your elbows, kissing you breathless.

“Wha…” You tilted your head at him, stunned, when he finally pulled back.

“That’s for slandering our First Lady but also diminishing yourself. Couldn’t just kiss you right there in front of everyone though, angelfish. Specially not that soldier boy getting fresh with you. Had to wait ‘till we were alone.” He smirked and pressed his lips against the tip of your nose, making you giggle airily.

“John Clarence Egan, never change.” You sighed dreamily.

His chest rumbled softly before his lips surged forward, already parted, to take advantage of your surprise and slide his tongue along yours hungrily. In retrospect, his ‘attack’ may have been well warranted, give your twice use of his full name. It was also not unwelcome, making you cling to his shoulders and whimper down his throat as he seemed to taste every inch of your mouth. The way the hair dusting his upper lip brushed against your face threatened to undo your knees, your head swimming with lack of oxygen and emotion until the sharp snap of the door’s hinges had Bucky wrenching back from you.

Pressing your lips together to take greedy breaths through your nostrils, you watched Menzies moodily deliver a missed bucket of rags, eyeing the pair of you suspiciously.

“Best move along Major, we have guests inspecting the handiwork of our unfortunate neighbours.”

Bucky nodded to him firmly, sucking in a deep breath as though to muster a reply. “Thanks for the heads up, Captain. See you around, angelfish.”

He tipped his imaginary cap to you, and you nodded in return, watching him disappear around the side of the building, heart hammering beneath your sternum, before lurching back to focus on the task at hand. To say that your thoughts stayed to him often throughout the course of the day would be an understatement.

-------------------------

Read Part Four

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @luminouslywriting, @softspeirs, @sunny747, @storysimp, @slowsweetlove, @httpsmoon, @buckysegan, @justheretoreadthxxs, @precious-little-scoundrel, @jointherebellion215, @timetowastetime8

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #major john egan x reader #john egan x you #john egan fic #john egan imagine #john egan #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 2 months

Text

I'll come pick it up after pt.7

John Egan X Female! Reader

Sumarry: Their first night alone in London. Bucky is eager for more than just dancing...

Waring: +18/ smut/ p in v/ oral sex (female reciving)/ unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!)/ Swearing/ alcohol/ historical inaccuracies/ use of sir/ use of y/n/ fingering/

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: First time writing smut, please give me feedback. Love y'all :)

Egan was driving his Jeep; his nurse was beside him. He was driving with one hand; the other was on the nurse’s thigh. ‘’I still can’t believe that you got Buck to testify for me’’ she laughed, looking at her pilot. ‘’My darling needed a break, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to have you for all alone with me. No mission, no injured soldiers, just the two of us’’ he said, gently tapping her thigh as a sign of excitement. She laughed and kissed his cheek.

When they arrived in London, Egan looked for a hotel to get checked in. Like a gentleman, he took the luggage, they went up to their room and start to unpack. Bucky was excited for this weekend, he was in a room, alone with no possible interruption. When unpacking her things, Y/n took out a piece of lingerie. She didn’t own any, so it’s probably one of the nurses that put it there. She saw a piece of paper with something written on it.

Dear Y/n don’t hate me, I thought it might be a good idea to give you this. Bucky sure will like it. Have fun, Daisy.

‘’Damn you, Daisy’’ she muttered. The lingerie was beautiful, it was a baby blue one piece, it was really short and would clearly show her butt. It had pink lace at the bra piece of it. It was also in satin, it was beautiful, and she was sure Bucky would like it. She put it in one of the drawers before Bucky would see it. She’d had packed dress and all her things except her nurses’ uniforms. ‘’What do you want to do tonight, darling?’’ he asked. ‘’Go out, drink, dance, have fun’’ she said, laying down on the bed. He laid on top of her. ‘’Have fun, uh?’’ he kissed her, they haven’t made love yet. This week, they were both busy, a few stolen kisses here and there, but she was ready, she wanted him.

She finished getting ready for tonight, she was wearing a black blouse, short sleeves and a forest green skirt. She didn’t want to put on a dress, and she definitely didn’t want to put on heels. She put on black flat shoes, they were beautiful, it showed the top of her foot, but not too much, it had a strap at the top, to make sure her the shoe didn’t flew off her foot. Her hair was down, and she had put on the lipstick that Bucky was so crazy about. Her plan was clear, drink, to get confidence, flirt with Bucky and finally, have sex with him. When she got out of the bathroom, Bucky couldn’t believe his eyes, she was beautiful. She was always beautiful. She put on the lipstick to tease him, she knew it, and he knew it. ‘’Beautiful, like always, darling’’ he complimented her. She was blushing, Bucky was in his uniform, that was all he had. But he looked good, like always. She went closer to him and fixed his collar. ‘’You are very handsome’’ she kissed him. When he went to kiss her back, she stopped him with a finger on his lips. ‘’You’ll ruin my lipstick, Bucky’’ she teased. Before he could answer, she added another finger on his lips. ‘’I’ll kiss you later, maybe I’ll even mark you up, like you wanted me too’’ she flirted. ‘’Why not now?’’ he asked trying to kiss her, she pushed him back on the bed. ‘’Later, Bucky, I want to dance with you, and I want a glass a whiskey’’ she laughed. He smiled and got up the bed. ‘’Whiskey, uh?’’ ‘’Told you, Major, I’m full of surprises, and I don’t have to work tomorrow’’ she smiled.

They didn’t know how much they both drank, but it was enough to boost their confidence. They were dancing together, mostly kissing, but still. Y/n was teasing him, her hips were glued to his and she moved them to a slow rhythm in her head. The main objective was to tease him, and it worked. His hands were all over her body, touching her, teasing her. He was breathing in her ear, he discovered this week, that this sport was sensitive for her, so he decided to use it. ‘’Still not convinced to let me ruin that lipstick?’’ he said, with his dark husky voice. ‘’You’re starting to convince me’’ she purred. ‘’Let’s get out of here, darling’’ he said as she nodded. The walk back to the hotel was kind of a blur for the both of them, the important thing was they made it back to their hotel room.

The second the door was closed, Bucky kissed Y/n, it was a passionate kiss, filled with desire and attraction. She was against the door as he was kissing her, he was like a men starved. ‘’C’mon, darling, jump’’ he said, between kissed. She did as she was told, jumping as his hands were on her butt. He walked to the bed, were he gently, laid her on it. He started to take his shirt off, but she sat at the edge of the bed. He was standing in front of her. She started to help him with his buttons, she was faster than him, after all, sometimes she had to open the shirts of men without any scissors. He threw his shirt somewhere in the room. ‘’Let me help you, darling’’ he said, starting to unbutton her shirt. To his big surprise, she wasn’t wearing a bra. ‘’You’re n-not wearing anything underneath, are you?’’ he was flustered, he had been with women, but never one like her. ‘’I’m on vacation, I don’t wear a bra when I’m on vacation’’ she teased him. ‘’Get back, darling’’ she moved back on the bed, to let him have space. He almost crawled to her; he was starved. He had her for himself, and he wasn’t going to let anything ruined the moment. He started to unbutton her skirt and she wiggled her way out of it. ‘’You’re breathtaking’’ he said, admiring her body. She was only in her panties in front of him, normally she would’ve been intimidated, but she trusted him. She looked at him, impatient for him. She needed him. ‘’Come here, Major’’ she said, he kissed her, again, with passion. It was raw, it was what they needed.

To Bucky’s surprise, she took control, she switched the position, so she was on top. On his lap, she felt him getting hard underneath her, it gave her confidence, she was making him hard. She kissed his neck, finding a sweet spot that she sucked a little. Leaving her mark on the men. Her lips felt hot on his skin, but he liked it, he was almost moaning. She started to move her hips, to create friction between the two, friction they desperately needed. ‘’H-hold on, darling, let me get these off’’ he stuttered. Bucky was starstruck, he was usually the one in control, the fact that they were both competitive and want the control was to be certainly interesting. He quickly took his pants off before returning under the nurse. She trailed her hands on his body, his chest and his muscular stomach. She watched as his body was reacting to her touch, when she got close to his boxers, he took her writs in his hands. ‘’Not yet, let me feel good, darling’’ he groaned. He switched the position; she was now on the bed. He went on top of her, to kiss her, he started with her lips, then moved down, kissing each part of her body. He kept placing wet kisses on her body until he reached her lower stomach. Where he placed a gentle kiss, each part of his body was begging him to go faster, to take her right now, but he wanted to take his time. The sleepless night he spent thinking about this moment, he was going to take his time and savour each and every second of it. ‘’Bucky’’ she moaned his name. He looked at her from between her legs, making sure she was okay. ‘’You okay?’’ he breathed out. His hot breath between her thighs makes her buck her hips in impatience. ‘’Yes’’ she breathed out, but it sounded like a moan. ‘’I just want you’’ she admitted. Her honesty turned him on even more. He took her panties off, revealing her fully to him. ’’I haven’t touch you yet, and you’re soaking wet’’ he felt proud, but now, he needed to taste her. The second his tongue was on her, she moaned, she wasn’t a virgin, but it was the first time a man properly took care of her. ‘’Shit, major, you sure know what you doing, ah’’ she moaned as her hands found his curls, pulling them gently. His eyes found hers, she was a goddess, she was beautiful, her legs spread for him. Her hips bucked against his mouth, he decided to enter a finger in her. She was so wet; it was easy for him to enter. Her back arched and another moan was coming from her mouth. ‘’Can you handle it, sweetheart’’ he teased her. She could feel him smirk, he was teasing her, and he was enjoying it. She didn’t answer, he added another finger as he was licking her clit. ‘’I didn’t hear you; can you handle it?’’ The words couldn’t form in her brain. ‘’Use your words, darling’’ she moaned again. He felt her walls clenched around his fingers. ‘’Yes’’ she managed to breath out. ‘’Yes, sir’’ he ordered. Oh, she was going to make him regret being this bossy, but not now, she was enjoying this too much. ‘’Yes, sir’’ she gasped as a not in her stomach was about to burst. Bucky was holding her hips down; they were bucking too much. Then when he moaned against her, she saw stars. The not in her stomach exploded as she moaned his name. ‘’Jesus, Bucky,’’ she moaned.

He took his fingers out and brought them to his lips, he was tasting her. Y/n had never saw anything like that before, she was excited, she was wet, and she needed him. ‘’You taste so fucking good’’ he growled. He looked at her, her face was red, her hair was a mess, she looked perfect. Like an angel coming down form heaven, just for him. ‘’What do you want, darling?’’ he asked as he kissed her again. ‘’I want to touch you, please let me touch you, sir’’ she whimpered. ‘’I’m afraid if you do that, darling, I’m not gonna last long, and I want to be inside of you, is that okay, sweetheart?’’ he said and she nodded, getting rid of his boxers. His length sprung free, Y/n was nervous, he was bigger than the other men she’d been with. When he saw the way she was looking at him, Bucky could’ve faint. She licked her lips, she was nervous, but again, she trusted him. ‘’Lay down, darling.’’ Bucky came on top of her, supporting himself with his arms, his muscles were so big, she’d never seen such a handsome man, he was perfect. She kissed him, she needed to kiss him to help with her impatience. He moaned in her mouth when he felt her grind her hips. She was looking to get some friction. She could taste herself on his tongue. ‘’Are you ready, Y/n’’ her name on his lips sounded so good. ‘’Yes, sir, I’m ready major’’ she said. Her brain couldn’t make a clear sentence, she needed him. He positioned himself at her entrance. ‘’This might hurt.’’ He warned her. ‘’I’ve done it before, it was a while ago, but I’m not a virgin, major’’ she said.

He kissed her as he sunk down into her. He went fully in, not wanting to torture her, but mostly himself. He wasn’t going to last long. He waited a little bit, to let her adjust to his size. ‘’Oh lord, you’re so big’’ she cried. ‘’Darling, you’re too sweet for my ego’’ he joked. She laughed and was able to relax a little bit more. She gave him a nod, indicating him that he could move. When he did, he had to think about something to distract him, he was about to come, already, but he had a reputation to maintain. ‘’Tell me about your grandmother.’’ He grunted. ‘’Right now?’’ she was confused. ‘’Yup, because you feel so fucking good, shit so where did your grandma lived?’’ He stopped his movements, not wanting to risk coming too fast. Y/n chuckled. ‘’You sure you can handle it, major?’’ she teased. Something in Bucky’s eyes changed, she had woken the beast up. She smirked, proud of herself. When he had calmed down a little, Bucky started to move again. He rolled his hips so he could be deeper inside of her. She threw her head back as she moaned something that sounded like his name. She kissed the sweet spot on his neck, making him roll his eyes. He quickened his pace when he felt her clench around him. One of her hands came down to her pussy, she began to touch her clit. ‘’N-no one would b-believe me if I told them h-how dirty you are’’ he breathed out. He kissed her again, they were breathless. Her thigh was shaking. ‘’That’s it, come for me, darling, come on’’ he praised her. That’s what she needed for her orgasm to crash down on her. Her climax triggered his and they came together, saying the other’s name as they did. He collapsed on top of her, her hands finding his hair to play with his curls. ‘’That was- ‘’ ‘’amazing’’ she finished his sentence. He chuckled. They were both catching their breath and recovering from what they just did. He was the fastest to recover, he took his length out of her and put his boxers back on. ‘’Just stay there, I’ll go get a tissue’’ he said, going into the bathroom.

Her brain was slowly starting to work again, her throat was dry, she needed a drink. Before she could move, Bucky came out of the bathroom with a tissue. ‘’I’m gonna clean you up, darling’’ he said before kneeling in front of her. He took the time to clean her, she’d never had this type of intimacy before, she could get used to it. When she was all cleaned, Bucky took a new pair of panties from her drawer, but before closing it, he saw a piece of lingerie. Like a 12-year-old, he was grinning and chuckling. ‘’Darling, what’s this?’’ he held it up while laughing. She put her hands in her face to hide her blush. ‘’That’s Daisy’s idea. I didn’t even know she put it there.’’ She laughed. He put it back in the drawer, still smiling. ‘’You gonna wear it for me?’’ he teased. She clicked her tongue in her teeth and took her new panties from his hands. ‘’Maybe’’ she laughed. They both smiled at each other before she got up, even if she wasn’t sure if her legs were gonna be able to support her. She put her panties on, before almost falling. Bucky held her, grinning. ‘’I got you, darling’’ he said, proud of himself for making her like this. ‘’Do we have anything to drink?’’ she asked. He looked at the bottle of alcohol he had brought with him, and then looked at her again. ‘’Maybe water, my head is going to hurt so much tomorrow’’ she said. He went to get her a glass of water and came back, sitting on the bed. She drank the liquid and laid in the bed. He laid next to her, opening his arm for her to cuddle with him. Her hand was now resting on his chest. ‘’Thank you, for everything’’ she said. ‘’For the orgasms?’’ he teased. She snorted and rolled her eyes. ‘’Yes, but mainly, thank you for getting me that weekend pass, I needed it’’ she said. ‘’That’s why I pleaded with the Corporal’’ he said. He kissed the top of her head as she was slowly falling asleep, him too.

Part 8⬇��

#john egan x female reader #john egan x reader #major john egan #john egan #master of the air imagine #master of the air #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #callum turner #austin butler

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saturnville · 3 months

Text

stolen moments, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (amelia mae egan)

content: john manages to call amelia after not hearing her voice for weeks.

an: this was the top choice in the poll so far. I've been anxious to write so we knocked this off the list first lol. enjoy!

“Are you alright, Major?”

They’d just arrived at a new station. It smelled like sweat and fear. Men streamed throught the doors like a school of fish. Their deep voices shook the brick walls as their conversations bellowed throughout the building. Dozens of men struggled to keep their composure. He was one of them.

He was overwhelmed. Tired. Desparate. His clothes felt tight against his body. The scent of gasoline and fumes clung to his vest. His hat damp and chilled against his forehead. His shoes were coated in black soot.

John’s eyes caught the telephone in the corner of the station. It was secluded from the rest of the quarters, in a corner, protected by a frosted glass divider. John's shoes grazed the dirty floor as he strode purposefully towards the telephone.

“M’fine. Head in and get your rest. Long day in the morning.” He didn’t know how he was able to make out coherent sentences. Gale stepped in, noticing his friend’s disheveled state and guided the men to the resting quarters.

John’s shoes kissed the dirty floor as he stood long strides to the telephone. He shrugged off his backpack and slid it by his feet. His hands trembled as he plucked the phone off the hook and typed in the number he had engraved in his heart.

It rang. And rang. And rang. His heartbeat was in his ears. His nails scratched as the black paint around the phone as he succumbed to his anxiety. He sent a silent prayer to God above.

Then he heard it. “Hello?” John’s forehead tapped the frosted glass as he rested against it. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. He’d never been particularly sensitive, but he was overwhelmed with emotion, good and bad, and hearing her sweet voice made his eyes well with tears.

The words were stuck in his throat and all he could release was a heavy sigh. That seemed to be enough for her to identify the caller. “Johnny?”

He shut his eyes. A lone tear fell from his eye. “Hey, Rosie.”

Amelia let out a soft cry. “Oh, thank God! I-I thought something happened to you; I hadn’t heard from you in weeks. Are you okay, where are you now? Is Gale alright, when are you coming…” His first instinct was to cut her rambling short, but the sound of her voice was the choir-like song his soul ached to hear.

He’d gone three weeks without hearing her voice. It was the most tortuous three weeks of his life. For 21 days, he survived by remembering the last words she said before they hung up, Whatever you do, do not die on me, do you understand? I love you, John. I love you. I love you. I love you. It kept his heart beating.

A small smile tugged on his lips. “I’m okay, baby, I promise. Things got a little rough; didn’t stay in one place too long. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m just happy to hear your voice…are you okay?”

His stomach churned at her question. A feeling of despair threatened to creep upon him. Thirty men lost. A plane in the middle of the ocean. An uneasy stomach and even more uneasy mental state. His head pounded, his body shook with unwanted adrenaline, and his hands craved the feeling of her hot skin. He was not okay.

“No,” he replied honestly, rubbing his eye with the stump of his palm. “I’m not okay but I will be. Especially because I get to talk to my favorite girl. Tell me about your day..”

He heard her heavy sigh. “Deflection won’t rid you of what you’re feeling.”

“Talking about it won’t do too much good, either. It’s…it’s hard, Rose. I just.” John’s jaw clenched as he struggled to articulate what he felt. “I just can’t talk about it right now, Amelia. If I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together.”

Silence stretched on, interrupted only by the sound of her shuffling on the other end. She was probably sitting at the edge of her bed. He imagined her, looking pretty in her long-sleeved pajamas and satin scarf, with a blanket tucked under her chin.

“Then how about this,” she started. “You make it home in one piece to tell me about it later, yeah?”

“Always making demands,” John laughed. The first genuine sound of joy he’d made all day. And it made her smile. So wide that her cheeks were sore and her dimples made an appearance. “But you’ve got a deal.” He readied himself to speak again, but a tap on his shoulder interrupted him.

Gale. Meeting with the CO in five minutes, he mouthed. John nodded. He ran a hand through his dirty hair. “Darlin’, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes; I’m sorry. If I don’t call in the morning, know I love you, alright?”

“I know. I love you, too. Don’t apologize. Just make it back to me.”

“Always.”

#saturnville #original writing #black!reader #black reader #major john egan x black!reader #major john egan x reader #major john egan #callum turner x black!reader #callum turner x black reader #callum turner x reader #callum turner #major john egan x amelia mae egan #mota #mota fanfiction #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #curtis biddick

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saturnville · 3 months

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can I call you rose? major john "bucky" egan (masters of the air) x black fem oc (amelia egan)

content: a flashback to one of the first interactions of bucky and amelia. inspired by the song, "can I call you rose?" by thee sacred souls.

an: I've been on a writing kick lately. bask in it now before I go back into hibernation lololol. on a serious note, this was fun to write and I hope you enjoy it.

Local pubs were common safehouses for the men of the 100th. A place where they shed their military prowess at the door and cloak themselves in normalcy for a few hours.

Over 40 men crowded the dark pub; drinking, singing, and conversing joyously between themselves and the women scattered throughout. His eyes scanned around the room. Gale was whispering in the ear of a pretty blonde, who giggled like a school girl and Curt was dancing in the corner with a brunette with a gentle gaze. He chuckled to himself and knocked back the remainder of his drink.

John clenched his jaw and pushed himself off the rickety old couch. He whistled a soft tune as he trudged toward the bar. He's been disciplined (somewhat), having only drank two glasses. Gale would be so proud.

"What can I get for you?" asked the person behind the bar. Her back was turned to him, which made him scoff in amusement.

"Eyes in the back of your head?" John dropped his glass against the countertops. Her shoulders hook in amusement. She turned and pressed her forearms against the counter. John's eyebrow raised in interest.

"Something like that." Her dark eyes fell to the pins and badge against his chest. "What are you drinking, Major?"

"Whiskey." She plucked the glass from his lingering fingertips and refilled the glasses. His gaze was on her as she floated behind the bar with ease. It wasn't completely rare to see a woman bartending, but it was surely uncommon, nonetheless.

She looked damn good doing it, too. Her dark, pressed hair was tied back by a baby blue bandana, showcasing her beautiful features. She wore black tailored pants that complimented her figure and a black sweater. Her manicured nails clicked against the glass as she dropped it into his awaiting palm.

"Here ya go. Enjoy, Major."

He winced. That aspect of him was shed at the door. "John." His correction was gentle, but she heard the stern understones.

"Is that appropriate?" She questioned.

He shrugged and took a small sip of his drink. "It is because I said so. Now you," he leaned forward. "What's your name?"

He rose painted lips parted, but closed once she saw a smile creep on his lips, "What?"

John's tongue massaged the inside of his cheek. He asked, "Can I call you Rose?"

Her head jerked and he eyebrows furrowed. "Rose? Where'd that come from?"

John leaned back and tossed his arm over the neighboring chair. "Cause you're real pretty. You look sweet, especially with that dimple, and your perfume is...kinda strong. Smells like flowers."

She tried to fight the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth Her brown eyes bore into his blue ones in awe.

"In that case, I will let you call me Rose. But, my name is Amelia."

John smiled. "Amelia Rose, see how pretty that sounds?" Amelia giggled and he swore it was the greatest sound on earth; an angelic song.

"Does everyone call you John?"

He shook his head. "Most people call me Bucky."

Amelia shook her head. "Then John is reserved just for me, yeah?" An indescribable emotion flashed through his blue eyes, but, she could tell he was satisfied, nonetheless.

John held her gaze as he brought his glass to his lips once more. "We've got a deal, Miss Amelia Rose."

"Rose, darlin'." Amelia turned at the sound of her name. She knew that voice all too well. It visited her during her dreams and soothed her to sleep in the evenings. A gleaming smile spread across her face. She dropped her rag and turned to face the door.

"Hi Johnny," she greeted softly. The seductive undertones in her voice, paired with the nickname had the eyebrows of Gale and Curt raise. John met her smile with a grin.

"I'll catch you boys in later. Rose, baby." John jogged toward the bar. Amelia met him halfway. He wrapped his uniform-glad arms around her waist and she sank into his embrace. His lips grazed the shell of ear. "How've you been, honey?"

It'd been months since their first meeting. They saw each other twice after that; another evening at the pub and a date. He took her on a date and surprised her with a bouquet of lowers; a dozen red roses.

For three months, their relationship progressed through a series of letters. She had more than she could count, all stashed safely in a box under her bed, handled with tender care.

"Good. Missed you. Glad you made it back in one piece." Amelia said, running her fingers across his pins and badge. "Do you want anything?"

John shook his head. "No. I'm here with the guys, but I'd prefer to talk to you without a drink. If that's alright with you."

Amelia laughed lightly and grabbed his hand. "Coffee it is."

"How long are you here?" Amelia asked, passing Johna ceramic coffee mug.

"Should be a month, but it's subject to change. But..." John's eyes lit up with hope. "I was hoping to spend some time with you if you'd like. Heard they've got a fun carnival going on tonight. You've yet to beat me in a game."

The young woman chuckled, remembering the intensely competitive game of cards they played every Friday up until he left. She smiled bashfully and nodded. "Of course."

John winked. "It's a date, Rosie."

#saturnville #original writing #black!reader #black reader #major john egan x black!reader #major john egan x reader #major john egan #gale cleven #major gale cleven #masters of the air #mota #mota spoilers #callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner x black!reader #callum turner x black reader

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saturnville · 2 months

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and I drove you crazy, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae

content: John is prepared to show Amelia that he is committed to her and only her. part two to sad girl. 18+ steam.

an: thoughts on MOTA pt. 7? again, thank you @turn-thy-paige for the letter-writing ideas.

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“Bucky, you haven’t shown her that you’re committed to her. She’s not obligated to wait around while you figure it out. You either want her or you don’t. But a woman like her doesn’t come around often, so I suggest you choose wisely. Other men are waiting to take your place.”

The words replayed in his mind like a song he couldn’t help but hum the words to. The logic of his best friend imprinted itself on the forefront of his mind. You either want her or you don’t. You either want her or you don’t. Choose wisely. Wise choices. Other men. Waiting. To take his place. His stomach churned in discomfort.

The sun dipped below the horizon, hues of orange and pink across the sky. John found himself alone with his thoughts, as he had been for majority of the day. The weight of his burdened his strong shoulders, and the fear of Amelia slipping through his fingers gnawed at his heart. His fingertips drummed against the iron headboard as his mind raced faster than a Jeep on a gravel road.

The silence in the room was deafening. He rose to his feet and paced around the room, his sock-clad feet slipping against the floor with every movement. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed against the bed again, carding through his hair in frustration. He knew he had to make things right, but where to begin, he wondered. That was the question that tormented him as he stared out the window, watching as the sun and moon traded places.

John felt stuck. He felt emotions he’d never felt before. They were big, they were intense, and they were overwhelming. He was rattled by Buck’s words, uncomfortable with the thought of another man looking in her direction, calling her beautiful, or asking her to dance. What would he do if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him? If she left him high and dry as she moved onto another man? His lip twitched in disgust.

He couldn’t believe it; a woman who he hadn’t known for even a year had turned his world upside down and it drove him insane. Caring for someone on such a deep level wasn’t what he was used to and it was an odd feeling. Having his chest cave, his throat constrict, and his shoulders burdened with guilt. Major Egan wasn’t sensitive to such things. But, John was.

His resolve solidified, John retrieved his boots and hastily packed a few belongings into his backpack. As he prepared to leave, a sleeping Buck stirred, casting a curious glance his way. "Where are you going?" Buck's voice was laced with concern, but John's determination was unwavering. "Amelia?" he guessed correctly.

John nodded, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. "I need to talk to her," he muttered, his jaw set in determination. With a final nod to his friend, he slipped out into the night, the weight of his goal heavy on his shoulders.

It was late. He was surprised when she let him enter her home. By the look she gave him, she seemed disturbed by his presence. He felt as though he had to walk on eggshells; the last thing he wanted to do was give her a reason to push him out and slam a door in his face. He had to be calculated. Meticulous.

John slid his bag off his shoulder and it hit the floor with an echoing thud. Amelia did not wait for him to gather his bearings before she walked away. He followed her into the kitchen, where she grabbed a ceramic mug from her cabinet and turned on the kettle. Its high-pitched whistle disrupted the disgustingly tense atmosphere his presence created. She swiped a tea bag from beside her stack of letters, placed it in the mug, and poured the piping hot water on top.

“Sugar?” she asked without facing him. He requested two teaspoons. She placed the mug in his hand. Always so considerate. However, the hope he had diminished at her question, “What brings you here, Major?” John forced himself not to roll his eyes in annoyance Had he upset her that badly? He sighed heavily and circled the rim of the mug with his fingertip.

“I wanted to talk to you, Rose.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. Her eyebrow rose and her tongue circle the roof of her mouth. It had been seven days since they’d spoken for more than five minutes and he came to talk to her late at night? She found herself growing more frustrated by his antics, but more disappointed by her inability to stand her ground. She refused to show any signs of weakness, so sternly she replied, “So talk.”

John pressed his back against the island, wincing once the draw handle punctured a weak spot. He placed the mug behind him. Carefully, he said, “You’ve been avoiding me. What’s that about?” Calculated. Meticulous. Walking on eggshells.

Her jaw clenched evidently. The muscles in her neck strained, her nostrils flared, and one again, her tongue circled the roof of her mouth. He recognized those mannerisms easily; she was thinking and trying to come up with an answer.

"I just figured I needed some space," she said after some time, her voice tentative yet resolute. “That’s all.”

John's expression shifted, a mixture of frustration and concern flickering across his features. So, we're doing this, he thought to himself. His chuckle was hollow, devoid of any amusement. Meeting her gaze, his voice was low as he probed, "Is that right?"

Her arms crossed defensively over her chest, a shield against the vulnerability of their conversation. She met his gaze with a hint of defiance, but her eyes betrayed the emotions swirling within her. With a hesitant nod, she affirmed, "That is correct."

His jaw tightened at her response, a surge of emotions rising within him. "You want to tell me why?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and longing.

Silence. Her jaw shook and her eyes welled with tears. She was strong enough to keep her rigid stature, but not enough to keep the lone tear from streaming down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “I don’t think we are on the same page here, John. I can’t tell if you’re wanting to be with me for entertainment or if you’re serious.”

“Amelia--”

She cut him off. “You take me out, you buy me a dozen roses a week, you send me letters, yet, for an entire weekend, I see women in your face…and what don’t you do? Reject their advances.”

He didn’t bother to speak as he knew she wasn’t finished.

“If you want a plaything, fine. A casual girlfriend, fine. You need to be honest and say it as it is. But I’ll let you know, I won’t be either one of those. I’m a good woman.”

John used his hands to press off the counter. He took a step toward her. “I know you are, Amelia, and its obvious I have made you feel that I don’t see that. I’m not going to say you’re right, but I can agree that I never made it clear with you what I wanted.”

Amelia’s chin rose as she soaked in his words.

“I do want to be committed to you. It hasn’t appeared that way, and I’m sorry. But, I haven’t cheated on you and I never will. I want this to work…I want to be yours in every way; tell me what I need to do, Amelia…”

He sounded so hopeless. His walls were torn like Jericho and left at her feet. Everything was new to him—love, commitment, and how to do it. John knew it left no room for excuse, but that was his honest truth. Everyday, he was learning how to love someone more than himself.

“Just put yourself in my shoes, Egan. I just wanted to be yours, in all ways, and I want to feel wanted by you. So, knowing that, how would you feel if you witnessed what I did, regardless of how loyal I claimed to be…”

The thought alone would drive him insane. He resisted the urge to show the look of despair that fought to show on his face. John urgently repeated, “Tell me what I need to do, Amelia.”

There was a moment of silence. Just a moment. It seemed like an eternity for John, who resumed drumming his fingertips, this time against the side of his thigh.

In an even tone and cadence, Amelia simply said, “Prove it.”

“Oh…” She was breathless. Her words were interrupted by soft whispers against the shell of her ear. She sighed softly against his face and wrapped her arm around his broad shoulders. “Johnny.”

Through hooded eyes, he caught a glimpse of her face. Her hair, which was usually pressed, was a curly array against her floral pillows. Her forehead glistened with the faintest sheen of sweat, which only made her glow under the rays of the moonlight. Her eyes were screwed shut and her lips were just hardly parted. Softly, he said, “My pretty girl.”

He brought his lips to hers, swallowing her soft cries and gentle moans. “I love you, darlin’. Do you love me?” She whimpered weakly, tracing the ridges of his muscles with her fingers. He winced when her fingertips dug into his skin.

“Yes!” she cried out. “I love you, I love you…”

As their bodies melted into each other, tangled in a fervent embrace, they whispered declarations of love into the quiet night. The four letter word sealed the bond between them. Love. And it was so.

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saturnville · 2 months

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I need a one shot of Amelia & John with their future kid(s)? After WW2 is over or them at buck’s wedding I’m desperate😭

a different era, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae egan. content: amelia and john experience a different era of their lives. an: hope you enjoy!

taglist: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“My pretty girl…” His voice was hardly above a whisper. The swaying of the wind outside was louder than he was. There was a point in time where he never thought he’d be in this position; rocking in a chair by a window, holding his child in his embrace.

His life was different. In just two years, the trajectory of his path. He was once a partying bachelor with no care in the world. Until she came along and turned the world upside down.

He found himself married. Married and with a child. Who’d known life would have come to this? It was shocking, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He smiled softly.

John tightened his grip around the baby in his arms. Joanna Adeline Egan was a godsend. A gift from God birthed through the blessing named Amelia Mae. She was beautiful; not much bigger than his forearm, and lighter than a feather. She was precious. Joanna looked just like him; slender eyes, broad nose, and straight lips, but had her mother’s complexion and hair texture. A beautiful masterpiece created by two artists in love.

John’s ears perked at the sound of the floorboards squeaking. By the scent of vanilla and sandalwood, he noticed her presence. He whispered a quiet greeting and welcomed the kiss against his temple. “Hey, Rose.”

“Hi, my love. Did it take her long to go back down?” He shook his head. Newborns were a lot of work, but surprisingly, Johanna was alright. She was calm like her mother; he was glad she got that trait.

“You’re a great father,” Amelia whispered, draping her arm across his shoulder. He’d done a complete 180 from the time they had their first break-up and it brought her heart joy. He said he was committed to her and he proved it. They were engaged then married shortly after. Now, here he was; holding their daughter against his bare chest as he rocked her back to sleep. They were in a different era. She smiled softly, “Thank you…”

“Thank you…there’s no her without you,” he said after some time. He finally tore his eyes away from the baby in his arms. “I love you forever, Amelia.”

Her dimples appeared as she smiled as widely as her tired features would let her. “I love you, Egan. For the rest of my ways.”

As he gazed at his sleeping daughter in his arms, John felt contentment wash over him like a wave. In this moment, surrounded by the love of his family, he knew that life had led him exactly where he was meant to be.

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saturnville · 2 months

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sad girl, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: in the beginning stages of their relationship, amelia finds herself questioning john and the nature of their relationship.

song reference: sad girl by lana del rey

an: idk this song does something to me. should I make a tag list?

John Egan was an enigma. A puzzle that was impossible to solve. A language she couldn’t translate. A concept she couldn’t grasp. It angered her. It sent her into emotional overload and overwhelmed her mind. She couldn’t make sense of him and it pained her.

She found herself in her head, swimming through the sea of intrusive thoughts that invaded her mind. He wasn’t serious about her. He wasn’t capable of loving her. That was evident by the way his eyes followed the silhouette of a pretty blonde at the pub while she washed dishes and served drinks to the armymen. He didn’t know she noticed. Why would he? To him, she was nothing but a girl he’d gone on a few dates with. They weren’t committed; he owed her no loyalty.

Her attempts at keeping her facial expressions at bay were a failure. When she rose her head, she caught the sympathetic eyes of the emphatic Gale Cleven. The smile on her face quivered as she turned her back and continued with her task.

And his hesitancy, oh God, his hesitancy to decline a dance from a woman broke her even further. Sure, she should have been glad that he declined the brunette’s advances regardless, but the fact that he took the time to think. To ponder. To debate, made her sick to her stomach.

She wept like a child that night. She accepted his peck on the cheek at the end of the evening, “You alright, doll?” His voice sent a chill down her spine. It stayed with her until she went home, then wept like a child.

She was asked about him by her best friend. If only she could describe all that he was, and all that he wasn’t. He was a complex case that needed to be studied. Dissected and picked apart like an experiment. She nodded once and said, “He is a beautiful human, truly. Bold and wild like a fire. He walks in it with pride and warms everyone he comes in contact with.”

Her friend sensed the sadness laced in her words. With a small voice, she asked in return, “It sounds like you aren’t too happy about that. What’s that about?”

With a sad smile pulled at her lips. Amelia shrugged and dropped her hands into her lap defeatedly. Quietly she admitted, "I don't know if he can love me the way I love him. I think...my worst fear is that he'll light me on fire and leave me to burn in the flames...."

---

likes are nice, but please share feedback, friends!

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #mota fanfiction #mota fanfic #mota #major john egan x black reader #major john egan x black!reader #major john egan x reader #major john egan x amelia mae egan #major john egan #bucky egan x black reader #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan #gale cleven #curt biddick #john egan x reader

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saturnville · 2 months

Text

let me love you, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (amelia mae egan)

content: what man wouldn't want to love on his wife?

an: 18+. steaaaaamy. @turn-thy-paige I'm doing your idea for gale :0

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa

Her side of the bed was empty. He slid his hand over the place where she once rested. It was still warm. He groaned lowly and ran a heavy hand across his bare chest before rubbing his eye with the stump of his hand. His movements were slow when he sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. His hands swept the floor for his pants, which were tossed near the foot of the bed. He slid them over his legs and trudged out of the bedroom.

John looked curiously throughout their home for his wife, who seemingly disappeared during the early hours. Her soft hums coming from the kitchen led him straight to her. “Morning, baby,” she spoke once she noticed his presence. She gave him a tired smile and continued grabbing utensils from the drawers to begin making breakfast. John’s eyes glanced at the wall clock above her head. 6:28am.

“What’re you doing up so early?”

Amelia shrugged, stating she wasn’t extremely tired and wanted to occupy herself while he got rest. John hummed lowly and slipped past the counter to stand behind her. His strong arms traveled around her midsection, one hand rested on her lower stomach, while the other came dangerously close to chest that was covered by a thin nightgown.

Amelia shivered at his touch. He was meticulous with the way he touched her. Even the simplest graze of his thumb against the peaks on her chest made her breath hitch. “John…” Her tone was warning. Her tone was warning yet she made no attempt to interrupt his movements. Rather she pressed against him.

“I just want to love on you for a second, doll. Can I do that?” He was an experienced man. The anatomy of a woman was engrained in his mind; he knew it like the back of his hand. Women were different, this he knew, but his familiarity with the body of a woman opened an entryway to a sacred world of pleasure and euphoria that he only felt with her.

Amelia didn’t respond. John brought his lips to her neck, soft and warm. One of her hands fell from the counter and gripped one of his hands which lowered to caress the front of her thigh. Her chest heaved and her breathing pattern shifted. Unamused, John said, “You didn’t answer me.”

“Yes,” she finally replied, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder. There it is. John hummed. He turned her body to face him, his hand now against the base of her neck. “Bedroom, doll.”

Amelia turned on the balls of her feet, his fingers laced through hers, and walked to the bedroom. John’s eyes fell to her waist, focused on the way her hips swayed like the water. She pushed the door open, dropped her shaw on the floor, and laid on the disheveled sheets; looking like an angel in the all-white covers.

“I love you,” John whispered against her lips as he hovered above her.

She smiled softly and carded her fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #mota fanfiction #mota #mota fanfic #masters of the air #john egan #bucky egan #major john egan x black reader #major john egan x amelia mae egan #major john egan x black!reader #major john egan x reader #bucky egan x black reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan x reader

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saturnville · 2 months

Text

on the frontline, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (major lanessa "nessa" dixon) content: in an unlikely event, john meets another major during the war, but she isn't what he expects. warnings: medical inaccuracies. an: Nessa is inspired by major della raney jackson, first black major of the army nurse corps. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste

The mess hall bustled with deep voices and the screeching of rubber soles against the dirty floor. The sun shone through the dusty windows and onto the leather-covered backs of the soldiers. An aroma of breakfast filled the atmosphere and wrapped its arms around them like a warm hug. The chefs made a large meal before missions. It was the last meal some men had to cherish.

At a long table sat 13 men; two majors, two captains, a lieutenant, and eight sergeants. The conversations were minimal, until a sergeant spoke, “Have you met the new nurse?” He whistled he guzzled down a hefty bowl of oatmeal. He grunted after swallowing the hot oats and slurped down the black coffee beside his arm. “She’s a beauty!”

There was a discourse among the men who tried to figure out when they’d see the newly hired nurses. The wages of war came at a high price. Death and injury seemed to be a suitable payment to the creditor. To combat that, the service brought on extra hands to give medical assistance to the troops, especially with more men being enlisted to serve. Hundreds of thousands of men prepared to put their lives on the line; the least they could have was efficient medical care.

“They all are,” another commented. “50 more nurses and half of ‘em are Black. Came in with them Tuskegee Airmen. Never seen anything like it.”

As the pilots bantered about the new nurses, Major John Egan kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, his mind elsewhere. The arrival of more nurses was a reminder of the harsh realities of war, the constant influx of fresh faces tasked with patching up the broken bodies that returned from the front lines. Dread settled deep in his stomach at the thought of encountering them under such circumstances. With a curt nod, he urged his comrades to focus on the day ahead. Meanwhile, the chatter of the mess hall continued, blending with the clinking of utensils and the low hum of conversations.

“Haven’t seen them,” he spoke from behind the rim of his coffee. “Hoping I never have to. Let’s get going, boys.” “Yes, sir.”

“Major Egan’s hit!” For a moment, there was silence. Then, it wound up again when the wounded leader crossed the threshold into the infirmary.

The infirmary was chaotic. Loud cries and deep groans filled the air. Trays and metal utensils kissed one another as they were tossed on carts filled with supplies. White coats here and there sifted throughout the room as green bodies wheeled more patients into the large room.

His breathing was ragged and heavy. With blurred vision caused by tears surfacing in the ducts on his eyes, it was difficult to navigate the infirmary without bumping into objects and solid bodies. His feet were heavy as he stumbled further into the infirmary.

"I got you, Bucky," Gale's voice was frantic as he hoisted the pilot on his body. "You're gonna be alright, y'hear me?" If he had the strength, he would have replied. His heartbeat was in his ears and his stomach was in his throat. He'd never been shot before. Would this be the end of his career as a pilot? He groaned in agony.

"I need a nurse!" Gale hollered, his husk voice reverberating off the walls. "He's been shot. Bullet is still in his shoulder."

In front of him appeared a nurse. A highly ranked nurse, at that. She was dressed differently than the others. There was no matching white skirt set with a pretty hat, no, she was dressed just like him. Dark leather jacket, heavy pants, and dark boots. On her chest was a multitude of badges and pins, including one that was similar to the one on Gale's chest. Major. Well, he'd be damned.

She didn't stay in his sight long, as she began giving orders to two other nurses, who were preparing a bed. She ushered her patient to another nurse and wrapped her black stethoscope around her neck. Around her wrist was a small hair-tie which she used to pull her curls into a makeshift bun. With a thunderous voice, she ordered, “Bessie, get him on a stretcher and bring him to me.”

A fellow nurse, Bessie assisted Gale in getting John on a stretcher. Gale stood behind the ladies, the tip of his thumb against his teeth. As the stretcher was rolled toward her station, she made a quick work of the gloves and ordered him to stay calm. “I’m gonna cut your shirt, okay? I need you to remove your hand so I can take a look. Take deep breaths for me.”

Beads of sweat trailed down John's forehead as he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared and his jaw shook as he tried to keep his sounds to a minimum. The nurse above him chuckled, which caught his attention. "What's funny?" He managed to ask.

She pushed his stubborn hand to the side and used her scissors to split his shirt in half. She was unfazed as blood trickled out of the open wound. It was ugly, but she knew how to make ugly beautiful. The wound was a wicked one, but it was a clean shot that managed to miss the muscle. It would be an easy retrieval.

"No reason to play big man and conceal your pain here, Major. You got shot. The shit hurts. You can let it hurt here." She pressed her stethoscope against his chest. Heartbeat still strong, she noted. Wavering just slightly, but strong. She called for extra hands. "Administer the shot into the upper right shoulder."

John's eyes were on her as she worked. Her brown eyes were gentle and they remained on him as she poked, but her tone was stern as she said, "Major Cleven, if you'd like to stay, you must stay behind that line. Major Egan, you just received a numbing agent to reduce the sensation. The bullet is retrievable. If you feel anything unbearable, you let me know. I'll stitch you up good as new afterword, am I clear?"

John’s stomach twisted at her authority. His tongue scraped across the roof of his mouth as he nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Wonderful. Scalpel, please."

"How is he?" Gale's voice was unclear. He felt groggy. His head was a boulder on his shoulders and he felt confined to the small, yet comfortable bed he laid in.

"He'll be just fine, Major. He took it like a champ. He'll be out of commission for six to twelve weeks and will be ordered to physical therapy upon return to base. Don't give me that look, now; he is not fit for battle right now, but he will be okay, I can reassure you that. My nurses and I will take good care of him just like we will everyone else."

John heard Gale's sigh of worry. "Okay, you're right. Thank you, Major..."

She chuckled lightly. "Nessa Dixon."

"Major Dixon. Thank you for all you've done."

"No problem at all. You come to me tomorrow if that wrist is still giving you problems and I’ll wrap it again for you, okay? Get some rest, you'll need it." They exchanged goodbyes and the sound of Gale's footsteps retreating became clear. Finally, John's heavy eyelids peeled open.

"Nice to see you again," she spoke after some time. She was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into her pockets. and her stethoscope dangling from her neck. "How are you feeling?" She made her way toward him, sitting on the stool she set at the bedside.

John groaned as he tried to readjust. His shoulder was wrapped tightly. He couldn't move even if he tried. Amelia jumped up and propped a pillow up. "Easy now..."

"Thank you," he replied gruffly. "I'm sore. Tired. And I need a damn drink."

His response pulled a laugh from her. Not the small chuckle she'd release here and there, no, a hearty laugh. It made him smile. "You and me both. Let's get you up and moving first. Your procedure went well. You are to stay out of combat for--"

"Six to twelve weeks with physical therapy upon return to base," he repeated her words, clearly unamused. Nessa smiled, clearly amused.

"Good to know you listen," she replied.

John hummed. "I do, Major. Didn't know that was a thing for nurses." He hated to seem painfully ignorant, but it’s what he was at that moment. Nurses in his unit rarely received titles, unless they’d done something extraordinary or had been in service for an extended period. But she, she looked young. Like she couldn’t be much older than he was.

Nessa nodded. She was one of the first Black nurses accepted into the Army Nurse Corps after they began accepting Black women. She worked her way up the chain, she explained, earning the same prestigious he carried. On the same level as a white man whose life was in her hands. Who would've guessed?

"Nessa is just fine right now," she suggested. "I should let you rest. I'll do one more check before I head out. Major Cleven will be here in the morning, I'm sure. Do you need anything, Major?"

"John," he said gently, tired blue eyes gazing into hers. "And I'm okay. Thank you for everything."

She gave one nod before leaving him alone and releasing the breath she wasn't aware she held.

“Nessa.” The woman sighed heavily and dropped her clipboard against the makeshift desk. Silence wasn’t a thing during war. Constant movement, moaning and groaning, the calling of her name. All she wanted was a moment of silence. It was nonexistent.

“Yes?” She didn’t turn around. But, she recognized the voice. Deep. Full of rasp. The way he said her name. It was familiar. Her eyes dropped to her clipboard, scattered with notes and reports that needed to be sent to the leader physicians.

“Why are you awake? I thought you were leaving.”

Her eyes dropped to the watch on her wrist. 1:43am. She’d been up for almost 24 hours. She shrugged and picked up her pen to scribble on the paper more. “I can ask you the same thing, Major. You’re supposed to be sleeping. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Finally, Nessa turned around. She regretted it. John Egan was a handsome man. She knew that, but she was too focused on ensuring he didn’t lose his arm to focus on his features. But in this moment, in the dimly lit infirmary with no one else present, she had every opportunity to do so. And, she regretted it.

He was tall. Much taller than she was. She assumed her head would be at his shoulder, still leaving inches of distance between them. Though his face was littered with scrapes and healing scars, it seemed to illuminate his beauty. His eyes were blue, a strong contrast against his dark, curly hair. A strong nose and straight lips that she was sure felt amazing. His upper lip was cut in the corner and dried blood remained. He must’ve begun anxiously picking at it.

He managed to change his clothes. Major Cleven must have had something to do with that. He was dressed in dark sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She was curious as to how he got his arm through the sleeve, but she’d heckle him about it later in the day. His curls were damp and tousled messily. God, he was beautiful. Bruised and all.

He chuckled and slowly sat in the chair opposite of her. He groaned softly and readjusted himself to come into a comfortable position. “I can ask you the same question.”

She shrugged, “I’ve got paperwork to do. Go to bed, John. You can’t heal if you don’t rest.”

“You gonna tuck me in?” John’s tone was teasing. Nessa’s eyebrows raised and the pilot threw his head back as he laughed heartily. It was the first time he laughed with passion in a while, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile as well.

“You’re in a good mood. Let’s go. You’re going to bed and I’m going to sleep in the infirmary just in case..” She pushed up from her chair and tucked her documents into a folder. She nodded toward the door and the pilot followed suit.

They walked side by side in silence back to the infirmary, which was near the resting area for the injured who didn’t make it back to their chambers. Luckily, everyone had. Nessa’s eyebrows raised as John lay on the same bed he was on earlier. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m your just in case,” he said simply. He laid his head against the pillow and watched as she stood still. Nessa swallowed thickly. It took her brain extra effort to tell her feet to move. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her heavy boots off her feet. She sighed in relief.

Nessa swung her feet on the bed and allowed her body to mold into the comfortable mattress. Her eyelids felt heavy, but still, she found his gaze. “Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Nessa.”

Though they did not say anything to one another after that, she found comfort in the silence. They found solace in the quiet of the infirmary that kept them through the rest of the night. Together.

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saturnville · 3 months

Text

wear the gold, joe rantz

pairing: joe rantz (the boys in the boat) x black fem oc (cleotha jean)

content: joe wins the gold and promises that cleotha will get to wear it.

an: one thing I love is writing period fics, making my own world, and putting black women as the lead. mwah.

Cleotha Jean was an intelligent woman. She began reading at the age of three, writing short stories by seven, and conducted a college-level research presentation at the age of 13. Education was her one-way ticket to success and transformation of her family trajectory. She worked hard in school and made it a priority. Her efforts paid off, as she was granted a full scholarship to a nearby all-girls college for Black women. She was one step closer to becoming the award-winning historian and geographer she desired to be.

Her desire for greatness never ceased, even on a college campus, where having fun and doing “college student things” was welcomed, especially with the neighboring all-boys college. Cleotha had no desire to partake in the weekend drunkenness or hookups. She found joy in researching Greek mythology and listening to the her boyfriend’s rowing match on the small radio at her desk.

Cleotha Jean was dedicated to her studies, yes, but she made sure to make time for other aspects of her life to flourish. Including her love life. During her first year of college, she found herself becoming the apple of Joe Rantz’s baby blue eyes.

They crossed paths at the lake that the schools in the city often visited on the weekends. While sitting on her beach towel with her best friend, a soccer ball came flying across the air, but a strong pair of hands caught it just before it hit her.

Cleotha squealed as her hands came up to block her face. Her book flew from her lap, the page lost in its spiral in the air. She grunted in irritation. Her fingers pushed her sunglasses on her forehead, her eyes scanning the vicinity for the culprit.

“I’m sorry, miss. Are you okay?” asked a voice that was unfamiliar. It caused her ears to perk up in interest. She turned to the right to see a very handsome man crouched in front of her, soccer ball tucked beneath his arm. Her eyes scanned his face: dark eyebrows, ocean-blue eyes, straight nose, and full lips. His hair was platinum blonde and tussled from a day’s activities.

“I’m fine, thank you. Nice save,” she managed to joke with a chuckle. The boy laughed lightly and shrugged. “I try my best. Your book.” He handed her the book that landed at her feet, his thumb between the pages.

“Thank you.”

“Reading the Odyssey for fun, huh?” he questioned. Cleotha glanced at her book, sandfilled and battered. It had been her favorite book since she’d read it during her freshman year of high school. She nodded and smiled. “Consider me a mythology enthusiast.”

He nodded in interest. “Interesting. You’ve got to teach me a thing or two. I only know about Hercules.” That drew a giggle from her. He smiled softly. “Sure. I’m Cleotha.” She stuck her hand out, which was light as a feather in his calloused one.

“Joe. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Cleotha smiled again. From her peripheral, she noticed his friends eyeing their interaction. She pulled her sunglasses over her eyes. She peeled her book open again. “Looks like your friends are looking for you.” Joe turned back.

“I’m kinda intrigued about this Odyssey you’ve got going on. You gonna be here for a while?”

Cleotha nodded.

Joe stood to his feet and dusted off his swim trunks. Cleotha’s eyes fell to his define figure before ascending to his eyes. “Gonna finish this game, then I’m coming back for you, sweetheart!”

Cleotha smiled softly at the memory. Her notetaking was interrupted by the sudden commotion over the line.

“And if I could say something to my girl Cleo back home if you’re listening…” Her ears perked up at the voice. “I’ll let you wear the gold medal when I get back.”

She dropped her pen against her book and squealed. “Oh my goodness! He did it!” She scrambled around her room in excitement. All the hard work, blood, sweat, and tears had finally paid off. She couldn't have been more proud.

A few days later, Cleotha was preparing to go to bed when a knock on the door interrupted the soft melody playing in her room, causing her heart to skip a beat. She paused, a smile tugging at her lips as she recognized the familiar rhythm of Joe's knock. With eager anticipation, she hurried to the door and swung it open, revealing Joe standing there with a tender smile lighting up his face.

"Cleo," he breathed, his voice soft and filled with affection as he took in the sight of her.

"Hi, doll," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes shining with love as she reached out to take his hand, pulling him gently into her room.

Joe kicked his beaten sneakers off his feet and placed them next to the door. He slid his full backpack off his shoulders and tossed it in the corner. She assumed he wanted to stay with her. Cleotha couldn't help but admire the way Joe filled the space with his presence, his warmth wrapping around her like a familiar embrace. She closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the room as they stood face to face, the air buzzing with the electricity of their shared connection.

“Ooh, baby, I am so proud of you!” Cleotha squealed, jumping up and down. She flung herself in his arms, pulling a hearty chuckle from Joe’s lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her tight. “Congratulations. I heard the race on the radio. It was a well-deserved win.”

“Oh,” Joe said, pulling away from her just slightly. He dug his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, saying, "Surprise.” A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he revealed a small box nestled in the palm of his hand.

Cleotha's breath caught in her throat as she watched him with bated breath, her heart racing with anticipation. With trembling hands, she reached out to take the box from him, her fingers brushing against his in a tender caress. “Is this what I think it is?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Open it and find out," Joe replied, his voice filled with a hint of excitement as he watched her with eager anticipation.

With trembling fingers, Cleotha carefully untied lifted the lid of the box, her breath catching in her throat as she caught sight of the delicate medal nestled inside. It was a simple in design, but it was beautiful. Heavy and rich. A physical manifestation of the blood, sweat, and tears he’d put in to get to this point. The gold medal.

"Oh, my goodness," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she lifted the medal from the box, her eyes brimming with tears. "It's beautiful. I am so proud of you, really. This is amazing.”

Joe smiled softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached out to take the medal from her hands, his fingers brushing against her skin in a gentle caress as he adjusted it around her neck. “Wait, Joe…” He hummed in response, saying, “I told you I’d let you wear it, didn’t I?” She clamped her lips to limit any further protest. Cleotha’s fingers danced over it in wonder as her eyes gleamed with awe. Her boyfriend was a gold medalist.

She met his eyes, which were low as he took in the picture of her dressed in his shirt and shorts with his prized possession around her neck. He smirked. A sight to behold.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice filled with love and gratitude as he moved to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "I couldn't have done it without you. Love you forever…”

Cleotha smiled, a warmth spreading across her face as she brushed a stray lock of hair from hisface, his touch as gentle as a whisper. "I love you, too.”

#saturnville #original writing #black!reader #black reader #joe rantz #the boys in the boat #joe rantz x reader #joe rantz x black!reader #callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner x black!reader #tbitb #major john egan #major john egan x black reader #major john egan x black!reader #major john egan x reader #mota #masters of the air

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