millie-multifics

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 5

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

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

Warnings: Gossip, mentions of death, mentions of cheating, singular use of a petname.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Masterlist Previous Next- Coming Soon!

x x x

After Douglass had made a big fuss, words of the letters had spread across Thorpe Abbotts like wild fire. Everyone was pointing their fingers at possible culprits, bringing the once quiet situation to absolute chaos. It had been weeks since a letter had arrived, the writer forced into hiding from the attention. The men had gone to Africa, their numbers dwindling on the journey, a few notable losses were Curt and Dickie. Replacements had arrived- you held such a hatred for that word.

You craved your own peace more and more as the days passed by. You had found a spot in the empty field passed the runways that was void of people, Lemmons crew left you alone.

“What are you doing out here?” Blakely’s boots crunced the weeds as he approached, his shadow blocking the sun from your eyes as they fluttered open.

“It’s usually quiet out here,” Your tone was teasing, “No questions, accusations or chatter. Just the birds, the breeze and occasionally the hum of a few planes. What are you doing out here?”

“You’ve got mail.”

You sat upright, brushing blades of grass from where they stuck to your dress. “New duty, Blakely?”

“You know you can call me Everett, I’d like to think we are friends of some sort.” He huffed as he handed over the mail. Three envelopes: one from home, one with a return adress of New York City and finally a new letter that was missing a return adress.

“Did Douglass send you out here? Since he is ever so concerned that he couldn’t help himself but to corner me in front of atleast half the company.”

“Carrier said they hadn’t seen you all day, entrusted me with your mail but you really ought to talk to Dougie, he feels terrible for bringing you attention like that.”

“I believe Lieutenant Dye’s celebration is underway, I thought you would be there?” You changed the subject, avoiding Blakely’s words just as you had been avoiding the man they were about.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you later on, save me a dance?”

You sent him a nod of agreement, waiting for him to be out of sight before turning your attention to the letters he had delivered.

You read the letter from home first, it was filled with the ususal wishes for your wellbeing and updates on events or gossip that you had missed. You did not recognize the loopy femine cursive on the envelope adressed from New York and it felt very thin between your fingertips. You open the flap, revealing only a single photograph inside. A man and woman in a busy street, he was handsome in his dress greens and she donned a plain yet elegant wedding gown… but it was not just a photograph of two strangers. Your fingertips gently ran over the mans face, absorbing his features as this was the first time you had set eyes on him since he had left you broken hearted on his porch not quite a year ago. There was a date written on the back of the picture, August 20 1943.

Despite the deep ache in your chest from the photograph, a spark of excitment filled you as you opened the third envelope. There had been a drought of letters from your Secret Admirer since the secret flooded the base, you had missed reading his words more than you had liked to admit.

“I did not intend to draw such attention and for that I must apologize. I have come to the conclusion if any of the men were to find out that these clandestine correspondence were written by me, I would be heckled for my aberrant ways. I am not perceived as a romantic, many see me to be brash and arrogent but since I met you I have been reformed. I feel a fool to be so cowardess with my affections while the possibility of death looms so heavily but I fear my mind over heart mentality will not crumble.”

Your mind spun, it was someone unexpected but who? With each letter you felt more more drawn to his words and your eagerness to discover the identity of the writer grew.

You clutched the recent letter and the photograph to your chest as you lay in the field, unbothered by the setting sun.

Hours had passed, the field had been swallowed by darkness but your body felt too heavy to move under the weight of the papers on your chest. The quiet yet rough trampling of the tall grass behind you alerted you to a new presence.

“If Blakely told you I was out here then he can find himself another dance partner.” You spoke loudly, nearly startling the man as he had not seen your silhoutte on the ground in the darkness, despite actively searching for you.

“That is a shame.”

The voice was unexpected, you honestly had expected it to be Douglass or DeMarco, maybe even Blakely with the intention of dragging you to the party but surely not Major Egan.

“Major, I thought you would be at Dye’s celebration?” Your eyes found his through the darkness as he now towered over you.

“I could say the same for you. Blakely mentioned you were out here earlier but when you failed to show at the party some of the men got worried. I volunteered to come check on you, I don’t think it’s safe to be out here in the dark like this.”

“I would hate to damper the celebration.”

“It got dampered anyway, sweetheart,” He moved to lay on the ground next to you, unbothered by any stains the grass may leave on his uniform, “By the men we have lost and the men we will lose.”

It was quiet for awhile, both enjoying the silent company of another person, unaware of the battling thoughts happening in the others brain. Your worries felt silly compared to his, he had lost friends and men under his command, you briefly wondered if he had volenteered to find you to escape the ghosts of them at the party.

It was silent for a moment before the Major spoke again, “The stars sure are pretty out here.”

Your eyes searched around the clouds, only a few bright stars visable in the dark of the night. “When they peek out of the clouds anyway.”

“Are you alright?”

The genuine concern in his question had taken you off guard. You took a second to debate how much you were willing to share with the Major as every aspect of your life had been previously aired, but remembered divulging a little to him before Dougie had brought attention. You handed the Major the photo you had recieved, glancing over as he angled it under the moonlight to see it clearly. “Before the war, it was all him, he was the one I would marry and bare my soul to. Suddenly everything changed, he had enlisted and just a week before our wedding I discovered that he was being unfaithful. I was foolishly willing to forgive him but he chose her, now they are married and I am here; my lonely soul wondering what is next for me, if my soulmate is out there somewhere or perhaps I am just unlucky and he won’t make it through this war so I shall forever be alone.”

You swallowed harshly, washing the thickness from your throat as your eyes burned looking up at the stars.

“What of your writer?” Egan returned the picture, his eyes scanning your face as the grass fanned your cheeks in the soft night breeze.

“How am I supposed to call someone mine if I don’t even know their name?” You sighed, heavily as if to lesson the weight, “I wish I could tell him that he makes the ache in my heart bearable.”

x x x

@jointherebellion215 @orchiidflwer

#masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota #mota spoilers #bucky egan #curtis biddick #apple tv #everett blakely #james douglass #john brady #major gale cleven #gale cleven #austin butler #john bucky egan #callum turner #major john bucky egan #major john egan

[millie-multifics]

……Mamma Mia?

Evan Buckley x GN!Reader

When your friend cancels plans last minute, your sweet boyfriend steps up.

Featuring: Soft Boyfriend Buck and Mammia Mia

Masterlist

x x x

Your phone tightened in your grip and you withheld your sigh of disappointment. You had this night planned for weeks, but your friend was calling to cancel merely an hour before you were set to pick them up.

“No worries, take care.” You hid your disappointment behind a smile as you finished up the call. Your boyfriend, Buck immediately sensed something was wrong.

“Everything okay?” Even from the kitchen, he could hear the slight variations in your tone that was hiding your crushed excitement.

You sighed, kicking off your shoes. “Tonight just got cancelled.”

“But you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks? And you spent so much time getting those tickets and choosing an outfit.”

You pulled the throw pillow onto your lap as you sat on the couch, picking at a loose thread, remembering all of the nights looking through ticket websites and multiple weekends spent combing through thrift stores in L.A.

“I’ll go with you.” Buck offered, the sadness you were emitting was simply too much for your sweet boyfriend to bare. It didn’t matter to him that musicals were not his thing and he would have to sit through two, or that he had just gotten off shift and was simply exhausted. The only thing that mattered to him right now was your happiness.

“Really?”

“It’ll be fun.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you.

“So it’s a musical about paternity?”

“It follows Sophie, she is getting married and trying to decipher which of the three men her mom had written about in her diary is her real father.”

“How does Abba fit into all this?”

“If you’re looking for the logic or correlation between Abba and the story, you won’t find any except that some of the group were the creators of the musical.”

“Does she find out who her real father is?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, babe.”

Buck continued to scroll through the Wikipedia page. “Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again?”

“The second film. It takes place a few years later, dynamics have changed and Cher is in it.”

The popcorn bucket rested on your lap, your fingers idly reaching in for the next popped kernal thoughout the film. Buck had also been indulging in the buttery goodness but it had been a moment since his fingers brushed yours in the bucket. You pull your eyes off the screen expecting to find him asleep but found the opposite, his eyes were glued to the screen as Meryl Streep sang Slipping Through My Fingers. You swore you could see his tears glistening in his eyes at the beautiful song.

The second film began and Buck quickly questioned the absence of Meryl Streep just as everyone did the first time it had been watched. He would whisper in your ear as quiet as possible for explanations on small continuity errors but you assured him none would effect the storyline much. You could feel Buck squeeze your hand just a little bit tighter as Sky returned to Kalokairi, and he was sniffling along with the rest of the Theatre during the christening scene.

“So what did you think?” You asked as the lights turned on while the credits rolled.

“I can definitely see why these are your comfort movies.”

“Thank you for coming with me, Evan.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, cuddling into him as much as possible with the chairs cupholders between you.

“Anytime.”

Buck didn’t regret volunteering at all despite how his tiredness from shift weighed on him. The theatre was packed with fans who were just as enthusiastic as you and he adored watching you glow each time you received a compliment on your well planned outfit. Maybe, just maybe he enjoyed the movies too.

You think you can definitely hear him humming S.O.S in the kitchen the next morning.

#tv: 911 #9 1 1 on fox #9 1 1 on abc #9 1 1 fic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #buck buckley #gn reader

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 4

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

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

Warnings: Love Letters, mentions of stalking and cheating.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

“Though we face a perilous fight in the sky, I am most afflicted by you when my feet are on solid ground. Try as I might to evade your presence, I am only a man plagued by my jealousy and affections.”

His knuckles cramped as he gripped the pen, the words pouring onto the page, this time his printing was messy less concise. It obviously hadn’t worked the first time, writing a letter to relieve his thoughts, they still overwhelmed him. He was sure no one else had noticed you had been acting strange lately, maybe your friend but none of the men you interacted with. There was a curiosity in your gaze, as if you were always trying to decipher if they were him. He had left his last letter on your pillow, nearly getting trapped in the cabin as your group returned to base, being in there felt wrong, he would find other ways to leave any future letters. The letter he currently wrote would never be met by your eyes at all.

He knew he was being foolish, he could not feel such jealousy while he hid himself behind paper and ink. Yet, there you were in the window, simple but ever so captivating and unknowingly fuelling the growing fire. The letter he had tucked in his jacket pocket in a rush now felt like it was burning the skin underneath. You were distracted by the coffee, he tucked the paper beneath the ledge without you or anyone else around noticing.

Another party was in full swing, their mission had been successful- they had lost only one plane but they had made it to Scotland for Curt and his crew to land safely. You sat in an armchair in the corner, once again alone. Half of your job was to converse and boost morale so sometimes it was nice to have a little serenity; the girl wouldn’t let you stay alone in the billet, you had tried that. You had not noticed that Major Cleven was seated in the armchair beside you until you heard him chuckling along to the boisterous, out of tune ‘singing’ of John Egan.

“How does does a stoic man like you befriend someone like Major Egan?” You genuinely questioned, their difference more apparent than any similarities besides both men were talented pilots and great leaders.

Cleven glanced over to you, never really having an interaction unless he was getting a coffee in the morning. “He didn’t really give me the choice.”

“He is very social, especially with women yet you sit here alone. Are you married?” You knew that you were potentially overstepping but your curiosity had bested you.

“Not yet.”

The small longing smile and his tone told that he was thinking of someone back home fondly. “So there is a lucky lady awaiting you back home?”

“Marge.” He handed you the small photograph that he kept in his breast pocket. You studied her beauty, clear skin, perfect curls and joyous smile.

“She’s real pretty Major.” You returned the photograph, “And lucky to have someone so dedicated to her. I’m betting you that most of these men dancing around here tonight all have unsuspecting sweethearts waiting for them at home.”

The Major nodded, his eyes meeting those of his approaching friend, “I am not a betting man.”

Egan occupied the empty armchair on the other side of Cleven, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, “Your bombardier is one of those men if I do recall.”

“Dougie and I are merely friends, sir.” You once again defended yourself, feeling less embarrassed and more adamant.

“No fella waiting at home?” Egan asked, having overheard your previous comments about the ever so lovely Marge.

“Not at home,” Suddenly the men’s gazes felt heavy on you, or maybe it was your heart in your chest that felt heavy. “I believe he’s across the continent now, and I am no longer his to consider.”

“Just means you can dance with any man here.” Egan shrugged it off, sensing the tenderness of the subject. “Say Brady, why don’t you take our girl for a spin around the floor?”

John Brady looked up with his wide eyes upon being volunteered.

“Oh, You don’t have to John, I am perfectly capable of finding my own dance partner.” You assured him but he was already tucking away his pipe but then you were interrupted by a frantic Douglass.

“Helen was telling me about some letters?” His voice was low but not quite a whisper, attracting the curiosity of the men around you.

“Please, excuse us.” You sent the group a tense smile before dragging the bombardier by his elbow into the quiet night air.

It seems like he’s trying to give you a stern look but it comes off more as concerned. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “They are just letters of admiration.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Dougie, they’re just from some harmless airman who had nothing better to do.” You simply brushed off his concern over the matter.

“They are clearly depraved, watching you like that, taunting you.” He insisted, his voice lowering to a whisper as a small group approached to enter the hall. You led him further away from the entrance to keep anymore of your conversation away from prying ears.

“And when you were gonna tell me that you have a sweetheart at home?”

It was his turn to sigh, fidgeting uncomfortably at the topic. “That is complicated.”

He was not expecting your heel to harshly slam against his booted toe, pain exploding throughout his foot. “Ouch. What the hell was that for?”

“Stop being an idiot.”

“This isn’t about me, it is about these letters.”

“Which everyone knows about now, thanks to you.” Your voiced raised louder than you had heard it in months, your frustration with the situation reaching its limit. “Good night, Dougie.”

You left no room for the conversation to continue as you wandered off into the darkness. Your night had been ruined and no one could stop you from your serenity now.

x x x

Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers @jointherebellion215 @gretagerwigsmuse

#masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota #mota spoilers #bucky egan #james douglass #major gale cleven #john brady #everett blakely #major john bucky egan #curtis biddick #apple tv #austin butler #callum turner #benny demarco #mota x reader

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 3

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

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

Warnings: Burn injury briefly described, secret admirer letters, mentions of…. Divorce?

Word Count: ~1.1k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

You had been unable to sleep after reading the second letter, tossing and turning until a knock sounded through the billet, stirring many of the women from their slumber. There were mission orders for the 100th and the men would be needing their coffee after many had been enjoying their evening before. You dressed yourself with just the little moonlight creeping through the windows, doing your best not to overly disturb the other ladies as they would be able to get a little more rest before they were needed.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Helens voice startled you, causing the hot cup of coffee in your hand to splash over the top. You had just finished setting everything up and a yawn had told you that maybe you needed some coffee to carry you through the morning, apparently it was poorly timed.

“Ouch.” You placed the cup on the counter, reaching for a clean cloth to wipe the hot coffee off your skin.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to startle you.” Helen reached for your hand but you kept it hidden from view, knowing she would make you go to the infirmary.

“It will be alright.” You assured her, attempting to get back to the task at hand as soldiers began to flood from their billets toward the meeting hall.

“You have been acting unusual lately.” Helen would no longer allow you to avoid the topic, wondering if it is the reason you had been so fog brained.

“I’m-“ You were going to try to reassure her that you were fine, but maybe having an outside opinion would help you figure out who the mystery author might be. “I have been getting letters from someone here at Thorpe Abbotts but I’m not sure from who.”

“What kind of letters?” Helen was intrigued.

“They’ve both been relatively sweet, nothing bad but I have no idea who has been sending them. The first one came shortly after the 100th arrived, it said: ‘During our first encounter your presence washed over me like the English rain, soothing and all consuming. You have captured my attention and selfishly, I must admit that I don’t want you to ever let it go.’” You recited, the words being seared into your brain from how many times you had reread the page. “No sign off, no return address. Last night I got another: ‘I yearn to approach you so freely, take you into my arms for a dance and confess my admiration. Though I yearn, I cannot allow myself to taint such a beautiful flower and so I stay, watching from a far as you dance in the arms of another.’”

“That is so romantic.”

Your eyes flickered to the door, finding the rest of the women listening in on your conversation. They must have stopped by to check in before heading off to their morning assignment.

“He had to have been at the pub last night.” Helen deduced, sending the ladies a glare over her shoulder. The letters may have sounded sweet but she was not so convinced.

“That doesn’t exactly narrow down the list, over half of the men were there last night.”

The men had begun to accumulate, eager to have a last minute coffee to banish any lingering fatigue or a donut to rid the feel of powdered egg from their mouths. You felt something brush against your leg, glancing down to find Meatball waiting patiently for any dropped crumbs. You gently nudged Helen to tell her you would be back in a moment, as you brushed your fingers through the dogs soft fur.

“Meatball, you know you are not supposed to be in here.” You softly scolded the dog as he followed you out the door, signalling for him to lay on the grass.

“I keep telling him that he can’t be going in there but he gets so excited.”

You sent DeMarco a teasing smile as you handed him a cup of coffee. “Excited to steal food scraps because he gets them from you in the mess hall.”

“Thanks again for keeping an eye on him.”

“No need to thank me, we might as well call it split custody.” You joked, “He’s with you when planes are on the ground and always hear with me when you are up in the air.”

You knelt down to pet the beautiful Husky, scratching the spot behind his ears that he absolutely loved. “Say bye to your father, he’s off to work.”

“Your hand okay?” DeMarco asked, he had noticed you favouring your non-dominant hand.

You nodded as you stood to your full height, showing the Captain the red, puckered skin from your burn. “Spilt coffee.”

He placed his coffee on flat surface of the trucks bumper, gently taking your hand between his own. As a pilot he had seen many types of burns, from combat or mechanical accidents and knew they could be worse than they appear. There was an unexpected softness to his words as he advised you to visit the infirmary.

“I will.” You promised, eyes meeting briefly before he let go of your hand. “Have a safe flight, Captain.”

It was not long after you joined Helen back in the club mobile that the two men plaguing you had strolled up to the window.

“Coffee?” You offered, Blakely who happily accepted the cup of hot coffee. You withheld the caffeinated beverage just out of reach of his bombardier friend. “Uh uh, Dougie, uncross your heart.”

“What?”

“Last night, you crossed your heart and swore to die,” You leaned on the counter of the truck, placing the coffee close enough for the aroma to invade his senses. “That is not something I want hanging over either of our heads today.”

“Cross my heart,” He rolled his eyes but did the motion, “And swear not to die.”

You smiled in satisfaction, handing over the warm paper cup.

“Not to worry ma’am,” The next man in line drew your attention from Douglass and Blakely as they moved on their way. “I will be accompanying those fellas in their fort today and I can assure you that I will do my best to get your bombardier back in one piece.”

“Oh we’re not-“ You cut yourself off, feeling embarrassed for anyone having unsavoury ideas about your new found… friendship? You handed him a cup of coffee, mustering your best smile from under your embarrassment. “They’re in good hands, Major Egan.”

It was only after all the men had been served and were on their way that you had noticed a slip of paper tucked underneath the windows ledge.

x x x

Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers @jointherebellion215 @gretagerwigsmuse

#masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota #mota spoilers #john egan #james douglass #everett blakely #mota x reader #benny demarco #harry crosby #bubbles payne #curtis biddick #john brady #major gale cleven #major john egan #major john bucky egan #apple tv #hbo war #callum turner

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 2

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

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

Warnings: Reader is a “Red Cross Girl”, cringe flirting, alcohol consumption

Word Count: ~1.1k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

The pub was loud. The small space was filled to the brim with American and British soldiers, a few locals sprinkled in the mix. Men cheered as they gambled, the smell of beer and stronger liquor filled the air while cigarette smoke created a haze. You needed some fresh air, your senses becoming momentarily overwhelmed.

You lay your hand on Helen’s arm to pull her attention away from the gossip the other ladies were sharing, “I am going to get some air.”

“Are you sure you are alright?” She asked, still skeptical as you had seemed for distracted the past few weeks.

“Of course, just need some air.”

The letter had been on your mind, the possability of who may have written had been consuming your thoughts just as they claimed you had been consuming theirs. Every time the mail was delivered you waited patiently, hoping that maybe another anonymous letter would arrive. The message had seemed sweet so you were not concerned with ill intention, just curious as to whom it could be.

The fresh air felt good against your skin, the warm air in the pub had made you feel clammy. You leaned against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed as your fingers traced the grooves in the old brick. The street was quiet, only a small bit of noise emitting from the pub and a few passing cars. The sound of boots stumbling out of the pub had you opening your eyes, your brow furrowed as your easily recognized the navigator as he stepped into the light.

“Bubbles?” You were concerned, he did not seem like the type to overconsume. “Are you alright?”

He looked as clammy as you had previously felt, fatigue weighing down his limbs as you approached. “Not feeling too hot, calling my night early.”

You nodded, “Would you like me to walk back with you?”

“I should be alright, enjoy your night ma’am.”

When you returned to the pub, the table that you had previously occupied was empty, the ladies scatttered around in their own conversations. You were thankful that for a moment Helen wouldn’t have the chance to treat you like you were a fragile egg. Though you enjoyed the quiet of sitting alone for a moment, it was interupted much too soon by James Douglass, a man you were not to keen on as he stood across the table with his much more tolerable friend, Everett Blakely.

“You look a little lonely over here, mind if we sit?”

You nearly glared at the bombardiers audacity, but managed to keep it at bay. “If I say yes, I am making it clear now that I will not be interested in anything other than just a friendly chat, ever.”

“That has been taken into consideration.” His body fell into the opposing chair, his friend taking the other much more gracfully. “So what has got you so blue?”

You huffed, leaning your chin on your hand as you thought. “The English rain.”

He sent you a questioning look, eyebrow raised with skepticism. “But it ain’t raining.”

You cross the man off the mental list of potential authors, eyes landing on the quiet pilot who seemed to be hiding a smirk behind lighting a cigarette. You wondered if maybe the Pilot could be the mysterious author, but you figured you did not know the man well enough to make an informed decision. Though, you would not mind if he was the culprit as he was quite handsome.

James glanced around the pub, his eyes briefly pausing on the group of Red Cross ladies that had accumulated in the corner, more so one in particular. “Listen, I would like to make an exchange. Your friend-“

“Helen?”

“Can you put in a good word for me?” He borderline begged, trying his best attempt at ‘puppy dog’ eyes.

“Is he always this desperate?” You asked the pilot, who merely just shrugged at his friends dog antics. “What is the exchange?”

“A dance. You were sitting here looking terribly alone before I sat down.”

“You are an asshole, you know that?” You scoffed, your arms crossing over your chest as you leaned back against the chair to get a broader view of the men in front of you.

“Are you sweet on her or are you just interested in being a ‘gentle’ man?”

Your callback to your first encounter on arrival day had his reassuring smile resembling more of a grimace, knowing that if he lied to you would likely just tell him off.

“You are insufferable, but fine. My word is only going to be as strong as this proposition was.”

He seemed to accept your response as he stood from the chair, straightening the ends of his jacket before offering his hand to you. “The dance floor awaits.”

As you accepted the outstretched hand you turned to the pilot being left on his lonesome. “Have a good night, Lieutenant Blakely.”

You sent Douglass a playful yet stern glare as he led you through the crowded pub, causing you to bump shoulders with many of the men who were trying to enjoy their evening. When you reached a large enough clearning in the crowd he stopped, twirling you until you were face to face. “No funny business, hands stay above the waist… and no touching any bits and bobs above that either.”

The hand he was about to place on your backside quickly corrected itself to rest on your spine, “Cross my heart and swear to die.”

Soon it was time to stumble back to Thorpe Abbotts, all the men and women eager to rest their tired heads unknowing that they would be woken in just a few short hours to prepare for another tirade. You would have missed it in the darkness of the billet if the moon had not been shining through the small window above your bed. The white envelope propped against your pillow, only your name sprawled across the front in pen, identical to the previous letter you had recieved. As the other ladies peacefully slept, you sat under the moonlight with more questions than ever running through your head.

“I yearn to approach you so freely, take you into my arms for a dance and confess my admiration. Though I yearn, I cannot allow myself to taint such a beautiful flower and so I stay, watching from a far as you dance in the arms of another.”

x x x

Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers

I’m glad you are enjoying this one so far ❤️❤️@jointherebellion215 @gretagerwigsmuse

#masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota #mota spoilers #curtis biddick #john egan #major gale cleven #james douglass #benny demarco #everett blakely #bubbles payne #harry crosby #hbo war #mota x reader #apple tv #major john bucky egan #bucky egan #major john egan #callum turner #austin butler #john brady #hambone hamilton

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 1

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

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

Warnings: Secret Admirer (could be cute, could be creepy, depends on how you see it.), Reader is part of the Red Cross Girls, Spoilers, possible mentions of injuries, death and warcrimes.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Masterlist Next Part

x x x

Thorpe Abbotts was abuzz before the sun peeked above the horizon. Many of the personnel had been busy throughout the night while the men who would be in the planes got as much rest as their minds and bodies would allow. You were amongst those who had been working through the early morning hours, preparing the Clubmobile to serve fresh donuts and hot coffee that were intended to carry the men through their dangerous and lengthy mission.

Helen stepped into the truck, a small stack of letters piled on top of the supply box in her grip. She set the box down on the chair in the corner, seperating the letters adressed to you from the ones adressed to the few other Red Cross ladies. “Early mail delivery.”

“Must be for morale, first combat mission for many of the men today.” You easily recognized the printing on the first envelope, a letter from back home just like the ones you had recieved every week since arriving to Thorpe Abbotts. The second envelope was unusual, void of a return adress and stamp, only your name was scrawled across the front. You gently peeled open the envelope, unfolding the sheet of paper to read the message inside.

“During our first encounter your presence washed over me like the English rain, soothing and all consuming. You have captured my attention and selfishly, I must admit that I don’t want you to ever let it go.”

The letter had no siganture or name to identify who had written it, only a creased bottom corner and a small coffee stain in the middle of the mostly empty sheet. You didn’t recognize the handwritting but admittedly, you had not seen the writing of the majority of personnel at Thorpe Abbotts. Your brain spun, shuffling through as many first encounters as your mind would allow but it was overwhelming, there were so many possibilites… too many possibilities.

“Everything alright?” Helen asked, her eyes glancing to the letter clutched tightly in your hands, worry creasing her brows. She hoped everything was okay at home, it was everyones nightmare to recieve bad news from home while being on a whole other continent, so close to a raging war.

“Oh,” You quickly folded the letter, tucking it back into its envelope. “Yes, everything is fine.”

You were sure Helen was skeptical, feeling her eyes following your movements as you tucked both letters into your coat. The men trickling out from their quarters was enough to distract both of you from the coffee stained paper.

“I don’t recall such a welcoming committee when I arrived.”

The sudden voice behind you had been startling, you turned to find the handsome Major leaning against the open window of the truck.

“I do recall being in this very spot while you rushed right passed, Major.” You sent the man a polite smile, adding to the stack of paper coffee cups, “Surely you were focused on the business at hand.”

“That must have been it, I’d like to think I would have introduced myself otherwise.“

You were thankful for the roar of planes flying overheard, the arrival of his men drew his attention away from the heat pooling in your cheeks. “That is my cue. Enjoy your day, ma’am.”

The soldiers came in waves, stumbling across the clubmobile on their way to settle in. Many men lined up for the provisions you offered; hot coffee, fresh donuts, cigarettes, the newspaper and even the occasional magazine.

You sent the next in line a smile, one nearly tripping over his own boots as his friend nudged him forward. “Gentlemen, what may I offer you today?”

The dark haired soldier leaned on the window ledge that seperated you, sending you what you could only assume to be intended as a charming smirk. “If a ‘gentle’ man is what you are looking for, then that is what I shall be.”

It certainly had not been the first attempt at flirting you had experienced in the day, but generally the men had kept it tame, calling you pretty in some way or asking to take you for a harmless drink. You let your distaste for the comment show on your face, choosing to adress the amused man at his side.

“May I offer you anything?”

“Just two cups of coffee and cigarettes, thank you.”

You placed only one cup of black coffee on the ledge along with the requested cigarettes, offering a polite smile. “When your friend learns how to speak to women respectfully then he may make requests. Welcome to Thorpe Abbotts.”

Your eyes briefly found those of the dark haired man, his mouth slightly agap with your words before he was pulled out of the line by his now laughing friend.

The line faded quickly, the men moving along to find their Quarters to settle in as soon as they were served. The coffee urns were empty, only a single cup of black coffee leftover from the gallons that had been brewed. Helen had just began to clean when the last few men to arrive wandered through. You had heard through whispers that one plane had been seperated from formation, missing in the clouds. It had flown overhead a short time ago and you assumed these were those lost men. Most passed without stopping for a treat, settling in on the forefront of their minds but one staggered up to the open window.

“Anything left?”

“I’ve always got extra cigarettes or the newspaper on hand, one last cup of coffee if thats what you’re looking for.”

The solider accepted the lone paper cup, sniffing the bitter liquid before taking a large gulp. The boldness helped relieve the putrid smell of vomit from his nostrils. It was fragrent on the plane because his navigator was unable to control his air sickness, but the scent seemed to stuck in his nose as it was still the only thing he could smell, until the coffee anyway.

“You got any gum?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at two men who were busy chatting amongst themelves. You slide a small package of mint gum across the ledge, watching as stalked toward the two soldiers, throwing the gum to the dark haired one without more than a simple ‘Heads up’.

Your first encounters with many of the men circled your mind as you lay on your bed, the letter once again clutched between your fingers. Major Egan, Douglass and Blakely, Hambone, Crosby and Bubbles, Curt and Dickie. Your first interactions with many of the soldiers were friendly introductions, none had stuck out to you as anything other than kind or mildly flirty.

He had never intended on you reading the letter, it had been written in a futile attempt to rid you from the forefront of his mind. He surely wasn’t a fool, you were far too good for a man like him but he had been completely taken by your warm presence. Unable to ease the yearn he felt for you, anchoring deeper every morning when you happily served what the military had insisted to be coffee.

It may have been a presumptious move on his part but he just couldn’t help himself.

He had snuck the letter into the mail carriers bag when he was delivering letters to the men as they ate was being labelled as ‘breakfast’.

x x x

Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers

#masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota #mota spoilers #curtis biddick #major john bucky egan #major gale cleven #james douglass #everett blakely #hambone hamilton #harry crosby #bubbles payne #john brady #benny demarco #apple tv #hbo war #major john egan #bucky egan #john egan #callum turner #mota x reader

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 3

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Angst. Themes of war, death and violence. Heart break. Spoilers to episodes 1-4. A little bit of steam but nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Final part of Proverbial Dark Clouds. Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

x x x

Every moment they were stuck in the Algerian sand, Bucky kept his eyes on the sky, hoping that maybe a straggling plane would come along. The sun and sand were hot, most of the men had stripped to their underclothes hoping for some relief, many thinking about their lost comrades and the prospect of an ice-cold beer.

The only thing on Bucky’s mind was you. He could picture you sitting along with the boys in the sand, hounding them about sunburns and heat sickness but you would be as undressed as your modesty would allow with sweat dripping down your brow- so in love with the fact that you both had made it through alive.

It had all been a blur, the past two weeks or so for John. Being a leader amongst his men meant he couldn’t allow himself to be effected by the disappearance of you and his friends, he couldn’t lay his pain on the shoulders of his men. It had become a morning routine to visit the infirmary. The visits had started as a daily occurrence until Buck had caught on to his pre-breakfast disappearances, but he still stopped by when he could sneak away from Gale’s watchful eye. He’d stand near the doorway, expecting you to walk by, beautiful as ever even with blood spattered on your uniform. You never did.

You quickly learned that the base was always abuzz before and following a mission. While the pilots rested as much as their minds would let them the night before, all the other personnel were preparing to bring the men home as successful and safe as possible. For you it meant one more checkup for any soldiers who were cleared to leave the infirmary, preparing a general medical kit for each plane and hundreds of smaller medical kits for each soldier, a precaution should they need to bail out of the plane.

“Is there a man you fancy on this mission?” Doctor Williams asked, earning a confused frown as you shook your head. “If you keep pacing you will wear a hole in the middle of my floor.”

To put it lightly, you were bored. All of the patients had been tended to, every other task that the doctor had requested you complete was finished and you were full of trapped energy as your body overcompensated for your lack of sleep.

“They should be arriving anytime now, put on a jumpsuit and meet them in the field.” The doctor suggested, glancing up from his paperwork as you continued to pace.

“Am I permitted to do that?”

The man shrugged, just as tired as you. “Well, I’m permitting it. It would be more of a hassle to replace this floor if you wear a divet in it.”

You watched as the planes landed one by one. Most of the men had small treatable wounds until one particular plane caught your eye. The crew worked together to lower a bloodied man from inside, the rest of the medical team quickly rushed toward them with a stretcher. You followed, working to roll up the sleeves on your jumpsuit, ready to get your hands bloodied if need be.

“What’s his name?” You asked, your feet following along with the stretcher as you moved the injured soldiers jacket away from his wound.

“Duval.”

The familiar voice had you glancing over your shoulder as the men loaded the stretcher into the truck. Those gray eyes had been ingrained in your thoughts for the past week. Recognition dawned on his features, and what you could only decipher to be distaste flashed across his face. You had been someone he was not expecting to see again, after all, England had an array of American bases and neither of you had specified your destination during your previous encounter.

“Alright Duval, let’s get you fixed up.”

After helping Doctor Williams assess and treat Duval, you had been placed in charge of treating the men with smaller, more superficial wounds. Since most of the men had smaller wounds requiring only proper cleaning, bandaging and maybe a few stitches the lineup at your station was quite lengthy. Needless to say, your lack of sleep had you on edge and when the final man sat in the chair across from you, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Don’t sound so sad to see me, sweetheart.”

“I heard you’re the one who treated Duval on the plane?” Your fingers gently gripped his chin to turn his head to the perfect angle for proper light.

“Impressed?”

“Confused.” You dipped the clean cloth into the bowl of water, “You could treat a wound like that but not take a shower to wash this blood off your face?”

“And miss my chance to be patched up by you?” He teased, but you could see it in his eyes, the nervousness he tried to hide. With your time in the medical field you had learned to read people through their eyes and body language, an important part of your job was to detect when people were in discomfort or pain.

“Earlier, you looked at me like I was a ghost or something.”

“I was just surprised is all.” He winced from the sting as you dabbed the dried blood from his hairline, “You this heavy-handed with every soldier?”

You scoffed, “The man before you did not flinch when I put 6 stitches in his brow.”

“Are you calling me weak?” John playfully leaned away from your touch “Maybe I am weak, weak in the knees for you.”

“Do these lines usually work for you?” Your fingers paused their work, your eyes jumping from inspecting his wound to the mischievous glint in his gray eyes.

“That depends. Will you agree to have a drink with me?”

“You are infuriatingly charming, Major.”

“Please, call me John.”

He had been tense lately, slipping closer and closer to the edge. It had become clear to Buck at Dye’s 25th Mission celebration that his friend was in dire need of a break. He sent John to London for the weekend, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in his shoulders and cast away the dark cloud that hung over his head. John felt the hotel was too quiet, escaping to a local pub for some noise and a beer and when a beautiful woman had approached him to share a drink he had tried to entertain her, maybe that would help him forget about you, but when she had gone to powder her nose he had slipped out undetected.

Sometimes John had trouble sleeping before missions, he would still be tossing and turning when a runner was sent to wake them up for their briefing. Now, he had trouble sleeping every night. Nearly two months had passed since you had disappeared, still nobody had any answers of what exactly had happened, either you had died a gruesome death or become a prisoner of war. The dark truth was John wasn’t sure which one he would prefer, resting at peace like the angel you were or trapped, possibly facing cruel acts of violence every day.

When exhaustion took over and sleep was impossible to avoid, he dreamt of you. Always so beautiful, always so you- those nights caused a deep ache to spread through his chest. He almost felt silly for the whole thing, you two had not been together long but he had been so captivated by your whole being. For so long he had sworn off love, not because he did not want it, but because he was certain that he would never experience it.

You smoothed down the soft skirt of your dress, no longer accustomed to wearing such a luxury item. The dress had been gifted to you by another nurse upon hearing through the grapevine that you had a date with the handsome Major. Unbeknownst to you, that Major was the “grapevine”.

A fast moving jeep suddenly stopped in front of your billet, the sound of it skidding along the gravel road pulled your attention away from the small crease along the dresses hem. The handsome Major stepped out of the jeep, his smile grew as he took in your form. There was a glint in his eye as he approached, gently brining your the back of your hand to his lips to lay a gentle greeting kiss.

“Your carriage awaits.”

You inspected the jeep and the patiently waiting solider in the drivers seat. “Have you ordered that man to chauffeur us around this evening? Or is he doing this with his own free will?”

“Half and half,” John shrugged, leading you toward the vehicle, “But that is because I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

The Major hummed as he opened the passenger door of the Jeep, “Do you happen to know how to ride a bicycle?”

Your chauffeur dropped you off at your destination and quickly drove off into the sunset, presumably back to Thorpe Abbott before anyone realized he was gone. John led you into a quaint pub, his familiarity with the other patrons and bartender told you that he had visited it often since arriving in England. He led you to a table in the corner, leaving you by yourself momentarily while he went to get drinks.

“It feels like you are sitting a whole world away,” He gripped the edge of your chair, pulling it closer to the corner of the square table, “Much better.”

“So, what are the components of this master plan?”

“My crew is set to arrive tomorrow, if all is according to plan. Bicycles are hard to come by at Thorpe Abbott right now and I sure as hell could use one, trying to get one for a friend of mine too.” His breath brushed your face as he leaned closer, keen on hiding the next phase of his plan from any nosy patrons. “He always said that drinking leads to gambling, and where would a better place be than here?”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Major, I hope you are not planning to swindle some poor locals for their bicycles?”

“If all goes according to plan.” His charming smile returned, “But of course that is simply only a singular component of my plan, enjoying a beer and the company of a compelling lady are my highlights.”

You spent your evening tucked away in the corner, John coaxing stories from you about your past, eager to learn more about you. You were both so enthralled that neither of you had noticed your bodies slowly gravitating closer as the night went on. You were sitting on the same side of the table now, shoulder to shoulder, feet tangled together and hands lingering merely an inch apart on the table top.

“It’s getting late.” John glanced at his watch, turning his wrist to show you the face of the timepiece.

You sighed, not wanting the evening to end. “Time flies when you are having fun.”

“That it does.” He finally stopped playing coy, boldly taking your soft hand into his rough one. You felt a chill run through you as his thumb swiped over the back of your hand. “I should put in a little work on acquiring those bicycles, then get you back to base.”

You waited patiently, unsure of what his gambling entailed. What you had not expected was for John to bet another man could hit a bullseye, the target though being an apple resting on top of Johns very own head.

“John, as a medical professional I must advise you against this.” You spoke over the rowdy patrons in the pub “There has to be another way for you to acquire a bicycle, you’ll lose an eye.”

“No I won’t, I trust Tommy.” He assured, the additional beer and adrenaline now running through his blood stream providing him with extra confidence. “Now he wins this, I get both those bikes.”

“Yeah, you’re on yank.”

“And I get a kiss.” John sent you a wink as he stepped in front of the dart board. “Alright, Tommy, not my eyes. Not my eyes, Tommy. All right?”

He placed the apple on top of his head and covered his eyes with his hand, letting a big breath out. “Alright Tommy, whenever you’re ready.”

You held your breath, pulling at the skin on your fingers to keep yourself from covering your eyes as well. The possible outcomes filtered through your mind, puncture wound of the face or hand, loss of an eye; both would not have great outcomes for any pilot. You had to close your eyes as Tommy took aim.

Gasps echoed through the pub as the dart pierced skin, luckily for sake of most peoples it was the skin of the apple.

“Tommy!”

John brushed past you to hug Tommy for their victory, before circling back to pull your body into his arms. You were too shocked with the contact to return it before he retreated for one more celebrity cheer with the other patrons who had witnessed the unbelievable sight.

You gripped your dress in your hand while trying to maintain grip on the bicycles handlebar, not wanting your dress to get caught in the wheel. Only a minute after you had departed the pub, the clouds opened up and the down pour started. You had laughed in disbelief at first, just your luck to be caught in the rain on a night like this.

“Nothing but blue skies do I see,

Not in England though,

Got shitty weather and blue skies, smiling at me.”

John sung at the top of his lungs as he weaved along the road in front of you, making the most of the poor weather with his clever lyrics and self-identified singing ability.

The bikes were abandoned in the rain on the walkway to your small cabin. Against all the rules, you had invited the Major to step inside to escape the rain to say goodnight. He stood in the threshold, his confident demeanor dwindling as a near awkwardness hung by the threshold.

You were grateful that the other ladies in your cabin had been granted weekend passes, you couldn’t imagine this moment if you had five other women watching this moment like it was the next best movie.

“I enjoyed tonight.” You found a shirt abandoned on your bunk, using it to quickly dry the water droplets running down your scalp. “Despite you nearly blinding yourself for a bet.”

“Actually, I do recall the bet including a kiss.”

His words hung in the space between you. You dropped the shirt onto your bunk as he took slow steps forward, almost unsure if you were open to fulfilling the wager.

“You’re right, I think it did.” The words sounded like a whisper coming from your lips, nearly being drowned out by the sound of the heavy rain beating against the tin roof above your heads. You slowly stepped forward, closing the space between your bodies until your finger tips brushed.

“This alright, sweetheart?” His warm breath fanned your face as he asked. Your nod causing your nose to briefly rub along his before your lips connected in a slow kiss. Your hands found his hips as his snaked around to the back of your head, slowly increasing the pressure of the kiss as your body relaxed against his. The kiss had unleashed an array of feelings that continued to smolder throughout the night.

His short trip to London had done nothing to help ease the spreading darkness of his mind- 30 bombers lost.

The headline in the newspaper and his phone call to Thorpe Abbott was all he needed to solidify the fantasy he had of what he must do moving forward in this war. The only way he would make it through without losing the rest of his sanity was to find you, and now Gale with the other missing men.

The heart breaking truth was you had never made it out of your reverie, the last words gracing your thoughts was your Majors sweet whisper.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

x x x

@canyousmelltheflowers @mads-weasley @groovin2beats @major-john-bucky-egan @finelinetimothee @surazim @orphancains @danny-boy27 @eugenedream

#major john egan #mota fanfic #masters of the air #mota #major john egan x reader #john egan x reader #john egan #callum turner #john bucky egan

[millie-multifics]

Okay so your John Egan fic broke my heart. So good, so heart crushing. Pretty please can we have something angst/hurtcomforty for John after that? Loved your writing!!!

The second of three parts is now up, I promise it’ll just be getting more angsty by the end. I plan on writing more for him and Masters of the Air as well so give me a follow or send me a message and I can take you in anything in the future.

Thank you ❤️❤️

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 2

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Gory descriptions of injuries, angst, plane crash, cheesy behaviour.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Masterlist Part 1 Part 3

x x x

Pain and heat was all you could feel. The plane had nose dived into the dirt, its impact sending chunks of metal and glass through the air in a fireball explosion. The seat you had braced your body against was torn to shreds and regretfully the planes two pilots had perished in the destruction.

But you were thrown from the wreckage upon impact, soaring through the sky like a damn eagle, body harshly landing in the dirt with debris falling down around you. Your head hurt, blood pouring from your hair as your brain beat against your fractured skull. Lacerations, broken bones, bruises and burns adorned your body like a twisted form of art. You were sure you would be screaming if you could, the pain throughout your body being too much to bear but it was stuck in your throat, only a few tears escaping as you willed yourself to move even just a finger.

You were alive, unsure of how long that would remain with the injuries you had sustained in the middle of enemy territory.

Curt was dead, and Dickie.

Before events had taken a turn for the worst for your crew, you had seen other planes exploding in the sky, some falling from the air trailing fire and smoke.

You hoped the rest made it to their destination, you hoped Gale and your John weren’t suffering your same fate.

Picturing his face brought you a semblance of peace. Your pain fading as your skin tingled, feeling the rough finger tips of your Johns hands running over your skin to soothe your aches and worries. For a moment you cursed the forces that had brought you together only recently, an unlikely pair but very likely all together; the quiet girl who had learned all of her lessons the hard way falls in love with the rambunctious, handsome Major who refuses to settle down. Any thought of settling down with John would just be a fairytale now, one that only the stars would know. Your heart aches and for a moment you are unsure if it’s caused by your injuries or the thought of him receiving the news of this tragedy, losing his friends and his love in one foul swoop would undoubtedly break that good mans heart.

Your flight to England had been more eventful than it was meant to be, the plane carrying you and a few other nurses had to make an unexpected stop in Greenland after engine troubles

The pub you had found yourself in was mostly empty, a few soldiers sat at the bar and the ladies you were travelling with were sitting on one of the sofas while you sat at a table in the corner. It wasn’t that you hated social interaction, listening to the ladies chat excitedly about traveling to England and all the handsome soldiers they could potentially meet was all they ever talked about and you had already received your harsh dose of the realities of war. Going to England only meant you were one step closer to brutality and destruction.

You glanced as the door opened, expecting the pilot of your plane but finding a small flock of soldiers- judging by their lamb skin coats they were pilots of some kind.

As the last one entered, he shut the door behind him, softly nudging the sticky bottom hinge with his heavy boot before he turned to take in the cozy pub. As his eyes scanned the room they stopped on yours, holding eye contact with his deep grey ones for as long as you let him before you glanced down toward the knife etching on the worn wood of the table top. Slowly, you lifted your head to observe the man as he approached the bartender. The small smile he wore, teasing, nearly considered a smirk seemed so natural on him. Upon removing his hat to reveal his dark hair, a few strands fell down his forehead with a curl. There was no denying that he was pretty, and you were sure he was a charmer which meant you would stay as far away from the man as possible until your pilot returned with news that the plane was fixed and ready to complete the rest of the journey.

“May I offer you another drink?” The new voice had startled you. You had been sitting in the corner for so long in your own little reverie, tracing the markings on the table that you hadn’t noticed the man approach. It was the handsome man from before, standing in front of you with two large glasses of beer and a reassuring smile.

“I’ll have to pass on the drink,” You mentally cursed yourself for this, he was handsome and you would like to talk to the man but nothing good would come from it. “I’m expecting to be back in the air any moment.”

“I’ll assume that it was your plane on the field with half an engine in pieces? I hate to break it to you sweetheart but you are going to be stuck here for quite a while longer.”

Sweetheart. You had always disliked pet names, many of them sounding sleazy coming from intoxicated soldiers but there was something about the Major that didn’t make your skin crawl when the endearing term left his lips. You had taken note of the rank and medals pinned on his jacket as he stood in front of you.

“Of course you don’t have to accept the beer but please allow me to keep a beautiful woman such as yourself a little bit of company.”

The Major had sat for hours at your table, finishing both beers himself and bringing you a tonic when he snuck off to the bar for another drink. He had been sharing stories of his time in training, seeming to cause some sort of trouble every step of the way and when your sweet laughter was thwarted by the appearance of the pilot reporting the plane would very soon be ready to go, John felt the overwhelming need to see your bright smile one last time.

“Stay for one more song?” He had asked, his eyes shining from the pub lights and his intoxication. “You haven’t heard me sing yet.”

“You can sing?” You questioned sceptically, backing up in your chair as the man quite suddenly climbed onto the small table top. You heard him request a song from one of the other men, avoiding the unappreciative stare of the bar owner while he waited for the song to play.

“We’ll meet again,

Don’t know where,

Don’t know when,

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

His rendition of the Vera Lynn song was very much more loud and boisterous, using his volume and enthusiasm to drown out her voice from the jukebox. You grinned up at him as he jumped off the table, reaching toward the Narwhal Tusk displayed on the wall. The soldiers sung along with him as he used the tusk as a microphone, tossing it from one hand to the other when the bar owner tried to reclaim it. You watched from your seat as he hopped up onto one of the sofas, skipping along the cushions before he leaped onto the next to evade his pursuer.

“So will you please say Hello, To the folks that I know. Tell them I wont be long, They’ll be happy to know, That you saw me go, I was singing this song.”

The soldiers lifted the Major above their heads until his boots landed on the nicely polished bar top. Many of the men had drank their weight in liquor in the past few hours and were enjoying the performance just as much as the Major was performing it.

“We’ll meet again, Don’t know where, Don’t know when, But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

John finished his performance with the Narwal tusk held to the top of his head as if he were a unicorn to mock the bars owner who had yet to catch him in the small, crowded space. He smiled at you, so big, bright and proud, making it was impossible to hold back your laughter at the downright silly behaviour the handsome man had displayed for you.

“Alright you’ve had your fun. Give me that!” The bartender pulled the tusk from Johns grip, sending him a stern look as he warned him to remove himself from the pub before he filed a formal complaint against the officer. John followed the angry bar owners orders, sending you a wink while he grabbed his hat and flight jacket from the hook beside the door as left the pub.

You found him waiting outside, leaning against the wall, hoping he would catch you on your way out.

“That was quite the performance, Major.” You complimented.

He grinned, flicking up the brim of his hat to better inspect your features, now that you were outside in better lighting. Still undeniably beautiful. “It wasn’t too much?”

“I mean it was a little over the top. Was breaking that poor mans prized Narwhal tusk necessary?”

“Narwhal Tusk? I thought that was a unicorn horn.” He joked, extending his arm for you to take. “Why don’t I walk you back to your plane?”

“I think I’d like that Major Egan.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

“How many of us made it?”

“Eleven out of twenty one?

“What about Clayton? Any chutes?”

Gale sighed, thinking about all the men they had lost. “I didn’t see any.”

“Yeah.” John paused, feeling his heart pounded in his chest, afraid to ask his next question. “And Curt?”

“I don’t know.”

#mota fanfic #mota spoilers #major john egan #major john bucky egan #masters of the air #major john egan x reader #john egan #bucky egan #callum turner

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Contains themes of war; injuries and death. Brief mentions of period accurate clothing. Angst. Episode 3 spoilers.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Thank you all for the support and feedback xoxo

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3

x x x

“Bluebirds, singing a song,

Nothing but bluebirds, all day long.”

Buck hid his laughter behind his hand, more amused with his friends antics more than he was willing to let on. His attention was drawn to you as you offered him a ginger beer, taking the vacated seat to his left.

“I thought I could hear his… otherworldly singing from the bar.”

“You know John, any opportunity to sing and he’ll take it.” The Major kept his eyes on the band but leaned a little closer to you, “He’s up there right now just for you, he was concerned there might be a proverbial dark cloud hanging over your head.”

You took a long sip of your beer, thinking over what Gale was telling you. The last thing you wanted was John to be worrying about you, he had enough men under his command day to day that he had to worry about.

“It was just a tough day in the infirmary is all. Lots of men coming in with preventable frost bite or shrapnel wounds that escalated because they weren’t properly cared for right away.” You explained, sending your singing admirer a smile as you caught his eyes from across the room.

“Blue days, all of them gone.

Nothing but blue skies from now on!”

You whistled in appreciation as John concluded the song, stumbling over to you as elation filled his body. He was glad to see you enjoying his performance, singing louder and even a little more off key just to keep the smile on your red painted lips for a moment longer.

“I think you truly outdid yourself this time, Major.” You teased, standing to your full height as he approached with a little extra pep in his step.

“The only thing missing was my beautiful dance partner.” He winked, gently grabbing hold of your hands to twirl you onto the floor. He gently squeezed your hand before resting his other on your lower back, leading you in a gentle sway to the band. You danced until the fatigue you had been pushing through took over, lowering your head to rest against his chest.

“Do you think Curtis is okay?” Your fingers fiddled with the hair along the nape of your lovers neck. You hadn’t known the men long but you could call many of them your friends so the unknown whereabouts of his crew had you on edge. They had lost 30 men already on that mission, it would be a tragedy to add 10 more names onto the list.

John rubbed soothing circle into your back, “Curt is a big boy, I bet he is terrorizing some poor Scottish town as we speak.”

You nodded in agreement, a yawn escaping you before you could suppress it.

“Time to turn in, sweetheart?” John asked, softly, afraid to break the bubble you found yourselves in. You nodded gently, your eyes fluttering shut as a warm finger brushed along your cheek. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back.”

John briefly stopped at the table Buck was seated at with a few other officers to explain his absence in case anyone went looking for him.

“Any word on Curt?”

Gale shook his head, having heard nothing new about their friend who was forced to land in Scotland after his plane was too damaged to make it back to their base.

“Goodnight, Gale.” You sent the man an appreciative smile for giving you insight on John during your earlier conversation.

You walked with your arm wrapped around John’s all the way back to the nurse’s billet, the sounds of gravel crunching under his heavy boots and chatter of passerby’s filling the comfortable silence. Despite your tiredness, neither of you wanted to part when you reached the cabin, staying wrapped in his arms until your body felt too heavy for your feet. He dismissed your apologies of ending the night earlier than planned with assurance that Buck was awaiting his arrival back at the hall for another beer. You shared a tender kiss, using the soft pad of your thumb to wipe away the smudge of red lipstick you left on his mouth.

“Goodnight, Major. Sweet Dreams.

“My dreams are always sweet when they are filled with you, sweetheart.”

Your very own dreams of the charming Major were interrupted by an air raid siren and panicked nurses, rushing to get out of bed and find shelter in the dark of the night.

John paused his movements when he spotted a different figure amongst his men walking through the fog, lamb coat and life vest adorned, he could recognize your beauty even if you were covered head to toe in thick mud.

“There is no way in hell I will be letting you on a plane today, sweetheart.” His hands rested on his hips as he stared down at you.

“Your company C.O will have words of disagreement with that, Major Egan.”

Major Egan.

You had never really called him that before except when teasing, it was just how you were with each other and hearing it now being paired with the most serious tone you could muster irked him. Clevens and Biddick had spotted the standoff as their crews finished their last minute preparations, both slowly approaching the pair to assess the situation on their hands.

“I am your in air medical aid for this mission, and I will be getting on a plane today, whether you approve it or not.”

This really was not the direction Gale seen his suggestion heading in, he had suggested that maybe the men needed a little more medical training, a refresher in case something were to happen in the air to release the infirmary of a little pressure- he hadn’t expected them to put a nurse in the air with them. The nurse would be in one of the planes, available to anyone with questions via the radio, it seemed impractical as their channels were needed for communication but his apprehension fell on deaf ears. They would do a trial run, if it failed then it failed and that would be that, but if it had the desired results then it would be instrumental.

They had asked for a volunteer, you had raised your hand before the words had finished falling from the C.O’s mouth.

“Fine, I don’t want to be the reason this mission gets delayed. You’re with me, let’s go.”

You shook your head, “I’ll go with Lieutenant

Biddick.”

“Absolutely not-“

Curtis grinned despite also disagreeing with the decision of a nurse being on board, but they wouldn’t be able to fight it right now. “I’m honoured.”

John sent his friend a harsh glare, expecting him to have taken his side rather then encourage her ludicrous behaviour.

“I get it,” Curt teased, “You’re in love with her and won’t be able to think straight without her on your plane.”

You couldn’t miss the way John tensed at Curt’s words. Love, he had never really been in love before but he was pretty sure that is what he was feeling for you, not that he had ever expressed it to you out loud before.

“Curt, it’s not that you’re a bad pilot,” Gale spoke up as the tension hung heavy in the air, “You just don’t have the best of luck in the air.”

“Exactly why I will be in that plane.”

“Alright everyone, let’s go.”

John ignored the hollers of the men as he pulled your body flush against his, his hand snaking firmly to the back of your head to bring your lips together into the most passion filled kiss you had ever experienced.

“Stay safe,” He muttered when he finally released you from his grip, his eyes showing much more emotion than he was willing to say. “And keep your damn helmet on.”

“I love you, too.”

It had been decided that the best place for you to be was at the front of the plane, alternating between standing and crouching behind the pilots seats. The air was peaceful through the clouds above the farm fields of England, but of course things would not stay that way. You followed John’s order of keeping on your helmet, knowing a head wound would most likely be fatal and defeat your purpose of being on the plane in the first place.

You did your best to remain composed as the real fight had started. Enemy planes doing their best to pick off your crew one by one. Your medical assistance not yet needed as every plane hit burst into a fiery ball, you could only watch and hope the men had time to jump beforehand.

You fell into the cold, metal wall of the plane as it was hit with enemy fire, getting to your feet just in time to spot the oncoming plane between the seats. Glass shards and bullets exploded into the cabin as you dropped to its floor, your arms instinctively moving to hold your helmet on and shield your face.

“No! Dickie! Dickie! No!”

You were back on your feet as soon as the bullets stopped, squeezing past Curt to get a better look at the injuries on his co-pilot. There was blood spatter along Dickie’s face and neck, and he was either dead or knocked out but the angle he was laying made it hard to check.

“Any injuries, Curtis?”

“I’m in one piece!” He yelled back over the roar of the plane engine, yanking Dickie’s slumped body off the control panel as he struggled to keep the plane up. “Fuck! She’s not gonna make it, we gotta get out. Pilot to crew: Bail out! Bail Out!”

You were crouched in front of Dickie, your eyes closed to keep focused as you waited to feel a pulse beat under your fingertips. “He’s alive!”

Another jolt under your fingertips told you that he was also now awake. His head swayed from side to side, disoriented from his injuries.

Curt contemplated his very limited options, glancing over at his injured comrade. “Dickie, stay with me. I’m gonna get you down safely, you hear me?”

“You can land this thing?”

“Yes, I can. If we drop him, he’ll die!”

“You have a death wish, Lieutenant?” You questioned, reaching into the pocket you had stuffed with clean bandages before the flight. Dickie would die either way if he continued to bleed out.

“You gotta bail too!” He insisted, “Bucky was right, you should have gone with him!”

Bucky. Your very own handsome Major John Egan. You were sure when you had climbed into this plane that he was the one true love of your life. You silently sent a prayer to any God that would hear you; please allow him to grace you with his presence again, to feel the strength of his arms and the warmth of his heart.

But what is young love without tragedy?

“I’m not leaving you and Dickie, Curt!”

“I’m getting us down Dick, I have control. Right over there ya see it? That long field, huh.”

You braced yourself behind Curt’s seat, head covered and body tucked tight as the plane skimmed the top of the trees.

“Come on Curt, fly like an angel, huh?”

#major john egan #bucky egan #mota spoilers #mota fanfic #mota #masters of the air #major John Bucky Egan #callum turner #gale cleven #curtis biddick #John Egan x reader #Major john egan x reader

[millie-multifics]

Cry, Cry, Cry Baby

Eddie Munson x NewMother

Being parents to a new baby can be overwhelming, Eddie is determined to bring his love some relief.

Warnings: Themes of Post Pardem Depression, Mom Guilt and Baby Blues. If you have experienced these, please read at your own discretion. This does not depict how every mother/ family experiences PPD as everyone is different.

Masterlist

x x x

The never ceasing wails- how could a scream so piercing come from such a small body? The shrill cry felt like it was an ever restricting rubber band between her temples every second it continued.

Burning tears, running down both mom and babies cheeks like a rapid flowing river.

It felt as though an elephant was standing on her chest as guilt and hopelessness settled deep.

Her elbows were weak from hours of rocking and clutching onto her child, holding the baby so close it seemed she was trying to absorbed the child back into her body where she knew it would be safe… and quiet.

She had ridiculed Eddie the first time he had done it, snuggle their child up and lay them in the empty bread box as he set forth cleaning the kitchen.

She leaned against the couch with the tattered throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, attempting to swaddle herself to see how much comfort it could bring the baby while it lay in the cardboard box by her side, its wail still piercing the air of the otherwise peaceful trailer park.

Eddie hated when he was stuck at work longer than planned, even if his peeling leather wallet thanked him. From the moment he stepped into the Plant, the only thing on his mind was going home to his soon-to-be wife and their beautiful daughter. He wished he could say his daughter was a little angel, but truthfully the past 3 months had been the most testing months of his life. She woke up from her sleep nearly every hour- Eddie would thank every God if she managed to make it a mere 2 hours. Her piercing wail reminded him of a siren, it would go off every few moments if she wasn’t being bounced at the right tempo of “Does Your Mother Know” by Abba. Eddie suspects her mother constantly dancing to Abba while pregnant is the culprit, he is starting to regret splurging to buy her all the albums for their 2 year anniversary.

He can hear his baby girl crying as soon as he steps out of the car, he is met with an unusual sight when he enters the double wide trailer. The baby is laying in the breadbox, unharmed and doing what she does best, wailing until she is red in the face. His love is sitting next to her with her head buried in her arms, her wails just as loud as the baby. He kneels in front of her, gently shaking her shoulder with one had as his other reaches for the baby.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” He can barely make out the words she gasps out between cries, “I failed. I’m a failure, she won’t stop crying.”

A vice grip takes hold of Eddie’s pounding heart. He should have seen the signs before it boiled to this point. He had heard about it from Steve, Nancy had struggled after the birth of their second child, he should have recognized that you were struggling too.

“Hey, it’s okay. I promise that you are not a failure, it’s okay to get overwhelmed.” Eddie had to blink the tears from his own eyes as his love looked at him so helplessly, “I’ve got the baby, why don’t you go take a bath then we can talk, alright?”

With a tender kiss to the top of her head, he grabs hold of her hands and pulls her to her feet, sending her in the direction of the bathroom. Eddie scoops the baby out of the box, gently humming to her as he bounces to the kitchen in the tempo of Abba. He continues to hum despite her cries as he starts heating a bottle in boiling water on the stove top, finding the diaper bag abandoned on their tiny dining table. He changes the baby’s diaper and does his best to wipe the tear stained cheeks of his daughter. He can hear the water in the tub slosh around as his love makes herself comfortable, the cries she were attempting to muffle slowly ceasing as the hot water soothes the aches of her body and mind.

His baby girl stops crying as he begins to hum the song for the sixth time, just in time for her bottle to reach a drinkable temperature. He dials the phone to the number that has slowly been ingrained into his brain over the past few years as the baby continues to eat peacefully in his arms.

“Hi Steve, can I talk to Nance?”

#stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #joesph quinn #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x reader

[millie-multifics]

Amongst the Snowflakes

Steve Harrington x Reader

Confessions are made while snowflakes begin to cover the streets of Hawkins.

Warnings: Fluff. Brief mentions of non-existent children and pregnancy. Spoilers to volume 4 through mentions of events and injuries.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Masterlist

x x x

Walking out of work, the first thing you had noticed was over your 8-hour shift there was a change in the air. You took a deep breathe as the newly arrived winter air kissed your cheeks, the chill stinging your lungs held a familiar smell that was unusual for early November: snow. The gray sky was another sign that tonight would be the first snowfall, marking another season passed since the carnage that Hawkins had endured last spring.

Once Hawkins had gained back a sliver of normalcy and Eddie’s name had been cleared by the government coverup, Saturday night was quickly designated their weekly movie night. Working at a grocery store meant you oversaw snacks while Steve and Robin brought the movies- everyone had agreed that only older movies were on the roster as Max’s eyesight had been severally diminished by Vecna and the last thing anyone wanted was for her to feel left out. You lifted the brimming paper bag out of the car and walked the pathway up to Steve’s house.

You had been a long-time friend of Eddie’s at the time of the scandal, devoting your time to keeping the metalhead out of jail when he was accused of murder. You had never been a fan of King Steve when you attended Hawkins High, but the Steve Harrington who risked his life for a group of misfit kids and the unknowing town of Hawkins was somehow much more unintentionally charming. He had become your new best friend and you had become his crutch, stealing his heart as he recovered from yet another interdimensional attack.

You rested the paper bag against your hip as you struggled to untangle the key Steve had presented you on your sixth month anniversary. You had spent most of your nights being wrapped in Steve’s arms so it was only fitting that he gave you a key for his usually empty house.

“Honey, I’m home!” You greeted Steve, dropping your keys into the bowl by the door and kicking off your shoes. He popped his head out of the kitchen with the phone pressed against his ear, confirming the pizza order as he sent you an acknowledging wave and welcoming smile. You emptied the bag of snacks onto the counter, digging through the cupboards to find the large bowls for the potato chips and smaller bowls for the various types of candy. 

 “Pizza is on the way,” Steve announced as he hung the phone on its hook, “the movies are ready to go and everyone should be here any second now.”

“Did you see the sky? It looks like it is going to snow tonight.”

Steve hummed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck, “I’ve already called everyone about staying the night, no use sending them home in the middle of the night if the roads are covered in snow.”

“I will dig out the spare blankets and pillows, after I change out of these clothes and into something much comfier.” 

 Steve spun you in his arms, his hands finding your hips as he smirked down at you. “I could come help you with that.”

“You do remember that children are going to be here soon?”

“I was talking about getting the pillows and blankets.” He insisted, feigning innocence at your inappropriate accusation. The tell-tale squeak of Eddie’s breaks on his beaten van announced the arrival of all the younglings just as Steve’s lips met your own in a sweet peck, “And that is my que. You go take a shower and change into something comfortable and I shall entertain our guests.”

“It’s so quiet.” You hummed into Steve’s hair as he rested his head on your chest, your heartbeat nearly lulling him back to sleep.

“It’s always quieter when it snows.”

“Shhh.” Both adults could hear the kids as they lurked outside the bedroom door. There was no doubt that they had discovered the snow upon waking up. “We should let them sleep.”

“But I want to play in the snow!” The familiar whine of impatience made you both chuckle.

You nudged Steve’s shoulders until he was sitting up, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. The chill of the room and loss of warmth from your lover made you pull your robe over your shoulders. Two sets of eyes stared up at you as you pulled open the bedroom door.

“We didn’t mean to wake you up.” Your daughter, the spitting image of you, smiled innocently.

“I want to play in the snow.” Your son whined again, rolling his eyes over his younger sister’s innocent act when she had been the one to wake him up by jumping on his bed with uncontained excitement.

“And what do we say when we want something?” Steve asked, moving to lean against you in the doorway. Your heart banging in your chest with love as you watched Steve interact with your two children.

“Please! Can we please go play in the snow now?”

“Baby, wake up.” You were awoken from your slumber by Steve softly brushing his fingers over your cheek. “The kids want to go play in the snow.”

The light from the television was harsh on your eyes as the credits for the third movie rolled down the screen, your day at work had drained you so you had fallen asleep at the beginning of the second film. You could hear Dustin screeching outside as he dodged snowballs being thrown by Eddie, the sound grounding you into reality after your blissful dream. You sent Steve a tired smile as he pulled you to your feet, helping you get your arms into the sleeves of your jacket and even zipping it up to your chin.

It was always quiet in Hawkins at 1 o’clock in the morning but you were sure it had never been this peaceful, even the squeals of excitement and giggle of happiness around you were muted by the snow. Steve’s bare fingers curled around your gloved hand, pulling you across the now white yard into the chaos that was happening around you.

“Your hands are going to get cold.” You warned as Steve reached into the ice, molding a snowball in his already pink fingers.

“Only have one pair of gloves.” He nodded to the knit ones he had insisted you wear before coming outside. He threw the snowball, hitting Robin in the shoulder. Everyone’s attention turned to Steve when they noticed he had joined their snowball fight, which meant your close position to him was being chalked up to collateral damage. You could not help but giggle as the two of you tried to dodge the powdery ammo, Steve using his body to shield you as he gave up fighting back. Eight against two was an unfair game and there was no way they would be claiming victory.

“Truce! Truce!” Steve shouted, sure that he would wake up with a bruise or two in the morning. The opposing team cheered at their victory before quickly turning on each other. Snow clung to Steve’s clothes, his hands and cheeks red from the cold. You quickly pulled him into your arms, uncaring that the wet from the snow would seep through your clothes and bring you a chill. Steve grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling under the bright moon.

“I love you.” It always sounded so simple and pure coming from his lips, never failing to bring a smile to your face. Your dream was still fresh in your mind and although many would criticize you for thinking this so soon in your relationship with Steve, something in your heart was telling you he was the one.

“I love you too.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Steve looked away nervously, his gaze lingering on the crystal snowflakes as they fell, “Remember when I told you about that dream I had? The one with the RV and the kids and…”

“And Nancy? I remember it.” You squeezed his hand in encouragement, showing him that you were listening and he could tell you anything that plagued him.

“Yeah, that one. Well, I have been having a different one lately,” Steve scratched his head and you knew that if you were not holding his other hand, it would find its natural place on his hip, “I am standing in the kitchen, wearing this silly pink apron. The front door opens and there is this pitter patter of small feet- two kids, a girl and boy, they look like the perfect mixture of me and you.”

As you hang on to his every word, his nerves are slowly overtaken by an uncontrollable grin.

“You walk in and you are beautiful as always, but there is something different about you- you’re glowing and you’ve got a swollen belly, baby number three. Every time I wake up from this dream my chest aches with this feeling that I have never felt before and I know we are just starting out and you might just think I’m crazy but my heart has already decided, I don’t want to live a single day without you…” Steve slipped his hand out of yours, reaching into the pocket of his now soaked sweater, “Marry Me?”

Tears stung your eyes, blurring your vision as you glanced down at the ring Steve held. Your hands shook as they reached for his face, bringing his lips down to meet yours.

Steve reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against your own, “Is that yes? Or am I totally crazy?”

“Yes, Steve, I’ll marry you.”

#stranger things 4 #steve harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #stranger things 4 spoilers #stranger things #Steve Harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington x reader fluff

[millie-multifics]

Family (Not-So) Friendly Competition

Dad!Eddie Munson Headcannon

Eddie’s kids bring home the newest video game console.

Masterlist

x x x

Eddie was lounging on the couch, feet up with a cold beer clutched in his ringed fingers as he caught up on the newest hit Sci-Fi series.

He had spent a lot of his time recently in the studio with Corroded Coffin planning their new comeback album- something that was completely Corroded Coffin and was sure to capture interest of old and new fans.

He’s suspicious at first when your third and fourth youngest kids (both in their teens) attempt to stealthily sneak past him with his car keys

They’re relatively trust worthy so he shrugs it off and lets them go without giving them the third degree.

When they return 30 minutes later, Eddie is asleep on the couch.

So they get to work, hooking up their new Nintendo Switch to the shared family tv.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open in midst of the teens arguing over who gets the blue remote and who gets red.

“I was watching a show.” “You were asleep.” “I was resting my eyes… Don’t you have a tv in your room?”

You, the light of his life, had given your kids one condition before forking over the cash- it must be kept in the living room.

It was an attempt to spend more time with your youngest kids, and during your last child-free, friends night they had hijacked one of the other kids consoles out of interest- it turns out you were insanely good at Mario cart.

Eddie gets another beer than resettles on the couch to observe the kids new game.

It’s tame at first… then the competition kicks in.

Eddie leans his elbows on his knees to get a close look at the tv, trying not to get too caught up in the game.

Meanwhile both kids are standing only a few feet from the tv, concentration clear on both of their faces.

The closer they get to the finish line the more amped up they get.

Each weapons successful hit is met with a string of swear words and each win is met with loud cheers.

Eddie knows that he should be scolding them for foul language but he’s having to bite his own tongue at this point.

“Alright, my turn.”

The teens take turns racing their father, teasing him when they beat him in the first few rounds.

He picks up quickly on the small cheats and tricks, his chosen character, Bowser, leaving Mario and Princess Peach in the dust

When you arrive home it is absolute chaos.

“You cheated!” “I didn’t cheat, I just happened to fly right over you and crossed the finish line before you!”

“Maybe we should get more controllers? Then we can all play together.”

The room lit up at your suggestion, all animosity brought on by the game instantly evaporating.

The kids were out the door and waiting in the car before either parent could blink.

“You okay with driving? I’ve had a couple beers.” Eddie kisses you on the cheek before spinning you back toward the door.

“Of course and we could grab pizza on the way home? Then show our kids the real meaning of Munson Family competition.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #joesph quinn #eddie x reader #eddie munson headcanons #dad!eddie munson #eddie headcanons

[millie-multifics]

Sleep Anxiety

Evan Buckley x GN!Reader

Sleeping in new places had always been difficult, a discovery your boyfriend makes when he asks you to spend the night.

Warning: Mentions of anxiety and insomnia. Buck being worried and cute.

Masterlist

x x x

No matter how often you had told yourself that the anxiety pooling in your stomach was unreasonable, it wouldn’t go away. It had been somewhat acceptable when you were a kid, though your inability to have sleepovers with your friends had excluded you from many birthday parties. This specific anxiety was less than welcome as an adult. You had been on plenty of trips in your adult life that required staying in an unfamiliar bed of a relative or a roadside motel, each night taken with a stride when by yourself- you had even made it through the first months at your new apartment with minimal sleep loss. Yet, the message your boyfriend Buck had sent 30 minutes ago had your mind spinning non-stop.

> How about you stay at my place tonight?

> Busy shift, and I don’t think I could survive the traffic to your place without falling asleep :p

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to spend the night with your ridiculously funny, caring and hot boyfriend. You had been looking forward to seeing him since the start of his shift 24 hours ago, and you couldn’t exactly blame him for wanting to spend the night tucked away in his bed after a long and hectic day. You had spent plenty of nights with Buck before, but only ever at your place- you had even played hooky on the high-end restaurant reservation you had acquired for your fourth date after ending up in bed. You had never been exactly sure what the cause of your sleep anxiety was, but it was the reason you were sent home a week early from camp in middle school after passing out with your head in a plate of mashed potatoes due to severe sleep deprivation. It had caused many problems in past relationships; partners had either assumed you were disinterested in them or branded you selfish when you would avoid sleeping at their places.

Buck was different, though, and you wanted this relationship to last. He wasn’t the type to kick you out at 2 am for keeping him awake or to label you as selfish for wanting to be able to get a good rest yourself. He never seemed to have an issue staying at your apartment, as he always slept like a baby whenever you were cuddled into his side. You could sacrifice one night of sleep if it meant dulling the ache of your longing heart, knowing the moment you laid eyes on his cute, unscathed face, your anxiety would be forgotten until it was time to crawl into bed.

< Of course

< I’ll pick up dinner <3

Your sleep anxiety had been pushed to the furthest corner of your mind as you devoured an array of takeout paired with chilled beer and wine, your conversation about Buck’s day at work overshadowing the movie playing on tv. You were collecting the dinner plates when a yawn slipped past Buck’s lips; the scrunch of his nose and the closure of his eyes was the non-verbal cue that it was time to crawl into bed and cuddle until sleep found you both, only you weren’t exactly sure how much shut-eye you would be getting tonight.

Less than 2 hours of sleep, that’s how long you managed to sleep curled in Buck’s embrace. You climbed out of bed with a sigh, maneuvering your body as carefully as possible not to wake Buck as he snored softly. You settled on the couch, turning the television to the lowest volume setting as you browse through the countless paid advertisements and reruns.

It wasn’t until an hour later that Buck realized you were no longer tucked away beside him, rolling over in bed to cuddle you closer.

“You should be asleep.” You kept your voice low as your eyes drifted from the Tv to Buck’s shirtless form when he found you downstairs.

“I could say the same thing for you.” He teased, rubbing the sleep from his eyes while they adjusted to the brightness coming from the screen. “What are you doing down here anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, but the way your head lowered shamefully told your boyfriend that it wasn’t the whole story. “I get sleep anxiety when I sleep in new places.”

“Oh,” Buck muttered as he watched you fiddle with the hem of the shirt you had stolen from his drawer. It was quiet for a moment when you glanced up from the ever-interesting stitching, Buck was gone, and you found yourself alone. He reappeared a moment later with a large pillow, a soft blanket and his cell phone in hand. He gestured for you to stand before he placed the pillow against the arm of the couch, laying partially upright with his back against the soft cushion before he beckoned you to inhabit the space between his muscular thighs.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? Your bed is a lot more comfortable.”

“My bed’s not comfortable without you in it. I’d rather keep you company down here.”

Once you were fully settled, he draped the blanket over the both of you. The Guide To Easing Sleep Anxiety shone brightly on his phone screen as he planted a soft kiss along your hairline.

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #buck buckley #9 1 1 show #9 1 1 on fox #buck Buckley x reader #oliver stark #evan Buckley x gender neutral reader

[millie-multifics]

Home Sweet Home

Eddie Munson x Harrington!OC

She had just lost her best friend and it seems like no one cares that he’s gone.

Warnings: Angst, Spoilers for Stranger Things 4, mentions of death, mentions of injury, swear words, mentions of drug use.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist

x x x

The heaviness of her eyelids was nothing compared to the familiar yet unwelcome ache bouncing around her skull. The Hawkins High gymnasium was the last place Sherry Harrington wanted to be, opting for her bed, or better yet, the tattered bed of Eddie Munson. She was sure that the past few days' events hadn’t quite sunk in, her psyche protecting her from the truth and anguish of what had occurred. Her best friend since the sixth grade was no longer around- no longer alive, and she had witnessed every moment of the demobats carnage. Sherry tried to focus on the table of donated clothes she had been folding. The constant disgusted stares of the townspeople added to her headache; the entire town knew of her friendship with the accused killer, and she was sure that some were hatching conspiracies about her involvement in the affair. The sound of laughter pulled her focus from the Hawkin’s High sweatshirt that had to be at least 15 years old to the food table.

Robin Buckley had been a part of the groups misadventure, yet she seemed unfazed by the events they had faced as she laughed along with a friend. Sherry wondered if maybe she had been alone under her proverbial dark cloud when she met the weary gaze of her cousin across the table. Steve’s unrestrained pity was enough to cause her breath to stutter in her chest. In her attempt to shift her focus back to the task at hand, she caught sight of two teens fleeing with a red marker they had used to graffiti Eddie’s Missing Persons Poster that his uncle had posted along the wall of others. The donated sweatshirt fell out of the grip of her weak fingers as she raced away from the table, nearly stumbling into another volunteer when tears clouded her vision.

“Sherry, where are you going?” Her cousin called for her before abandoning the table to follow her, “Sherry! Sherry, wait up!”

“I have to go, Steve. I- I can’t be here anymore, pretending everything is normal, acting as if nothing happened.”

“That’s not what we’re doing-“

“We’re folding clothes and handing out water while everyone thinks there was an earthquake, but that’s not true, and it’s clearly not over.”

“Come on, what’s this really about? Sherry Harrington would jump at the chance to volunteer to help people who just lost their homes and loved ones because of what we did.”

“I lost a loved one, too!”

The sheer volume of her voice as the words ripped themselves from her pounding chest made Steve take a slow step forward as if approaching a wounded animal; he was 100% sure that he had never heard Sherry raise her voice like that before.

“You want to know why I dropped out of school mid-semester, Steve? Ever since all that shit happened at Starcourt, I have had this feeling gnawing at my stomach every day and every night that something bad was going to happen, so I came home to help whenever it did.”

Steve sighed as he watched his cousin sink to the ground, her bandaged arms hugging her legs as she rested her forehead on her knees. “You didn’t drag Eddie into this.”

“I can’t stop replaying that night in my head.” She lifted her gaze to Steve as he towered over her, unable to control the tears that burned her eyes. “I can’t stop wondering that maybe if I had gone to Eddie’s that night after Hellfire, all of this could have been avoided.”

“Sherry-“

“Eddie is dead, Steve. He died before I could tell him that I have in love with him for fucking years. This entire town is blaming him for multiple murders he did not commit, and here we are, folding goddamn sweaters for those same fucking assholes after he sacrificed his life for them.”

Steve knelt in front of his cousin, his hand brushing against the layer of bandages wrapped around her right forearm that was beginning to soak through; she had put up quite the fight against the demobats to help Eddie but her attempts had proven futile. “You’re bleeding again. I’ll let Robin and Dustin know that we’re going home. Why don’t you go wait in the car?”

Sherry accepted the keys from him as she wiped away her tears with the palms of her hands, spreading the wetness across her cheeks rather than drying her face. She pushed herself off the pavement as Steve disappeared back into the school, ignoring the looks of people coming and going from the building. She sunk into the passenger seat, her outburst weighing on her shoulders as she sat alone in the silent car. With a sigh, she turned the key in the ignition, allowing the radio to come to life for background noise. She instantly recognized the song as Mötley Crüe’s Home Sweet Home, having bought the album the previous summer when she returned from college- she had insisted that they play the tape while laying in Eddie’s bed, sharing a joint.

“Just take this song and you'll never feel left all alone

Take me to your heart

Feel me in your bones.”

She hummed quietly as she leaned her head against the cold window, closing her eyes as she tried to calm herself, not wanting to burst into another round of tears before she was swaddled in the cold blankets of her bed. She was so wrapped up in the hope Eddie’s Iron Maiden shirt she had borrowed last week would still smell like him that she hadn’t noticed the quiet murmur of the radio had stopped. Her humming slowed as a chill ran down her spine- her eyes snapping open as she was overcome with the same eerie feeling that had plagued her every second she had spent in the Upsidedown.

“Missing me already, sweetheart?”

Her eyes glued themselves to the rearview mirror, finding the unmistakable wide brown eyes of Eddie Munson staring back at her.

“All these tears for little ol’ me?”

She had never been more relieved to see his smug grin.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #joesph quinn #joe quinn

[millie-multifics]

Ok but like shy!reader doodling Eddie's tattoos onto her own arms and then getting embarrassed when he sees them. But he's just like "wdym you're embarrassed, it's cute... But you're missing a bat, there's seven of them :)"

this is the cutest idea ever!! ♡ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

You'd forgotten all about your penned imitations by the end of the day, a boring morning at work spent idly doodling swiftly replaced in your memory by a turbulent afternoon. 

You stare at the desk with your hands braced at the sides of your face. You're tired and aching and you just really want to see Eddie, his frizzy curls all windblown from driving with the windows down, his ripped clothes. 

Life is sometimes fair. As soon as you think of him, he appears.

"Hey," Eddie says, bright and easy.

You blink at him and grin from behind the Palace arcade desk.

"Miss me?" he asks, smirking.

You try to hide your smile but the damage has already been done. Refusing to answer, you pretend to be busier than you are, reaching under the counter for another roll of quarters. 

"I was thinking we'd go get milkshakes. You know, celebrate the weekend," he says, his hand clasped around the crook of his arm, head inclined to yours. 

"I'm sorry you have to wait for me," you apologise.

Eddie finishes school an hour and a half before you finish work. You know he's taken to spending that time in the parking lot, shooting the breeze. Or, from the smell, smoking it. You feel very guilty to take up his time like that, and also, secretly, very special. 

"Don't be. You know," he turns so his back is to you and points to his van, "when I park right there? I can see you running around in here. You realise they're only paying you minimum wage, right?" 

"You watch me working?" you ask. 

"What?" He spins around, a hand sewn into the hair behind his neck. "Of course not… Hey, what's that?" 

It's your worst nightmare to be caught like this, his tattoos badly replicated over your arm and on clear display. If he didn't know how hopeless you are about him before this is an amazingly obvious indication. 

You pull your arm to your chest in a poor attempt at hiding it and he vies for it, fingers kind but insistent as they close around your wrist. You're not in the habit of denying him anything but you can't look at him as he lays your arm across the desk. He's unusually quiet as he slides a ringed finger under your sleeve and hikes it up high. His fingertips stay bordering your sleeve and his thumb brushes over a clumsy wing, his eyes a shade from blank.

You squirm under his touch but don't pull away. Eddie's eyes flit up to your face. He takes in your embarrassment and is quick to try to make you feel better, his grip loosening. 

"Hey, it's okay. They look good on you." 

Your relief is palpable. You step as close to him as you can with the counter between you and he screws his lips to the side, a lopsided smile. 

"You're missing one," he says wryly. 

"Huh?" 

"You're missing one of the bats. D'you have a pen?" 

You lean back to the register and grab one for him. He takes it gratefully and unstoppers it with his teeth, holding the cap between his lips. The nib is small and thin and tickles you worse now that it's Eddie drawing on you. He sets it to your skin gently, a feathering sketch stretching out besides the other bats as he slowly completes your temporary tattoo. He does a much better job than you, though he has a clearer point of reference. 

He strokes your arm when he finishes, a cheerful smile affecting his every feature: his eyes crease, his cheeks perk up. 

"Voilà," he says. "Perfect." 

He changes his mind abruptly. "Oh, wait." 

He sets the pen to your skin again. You struggle to see it as he writes E.M in his brilliant hand, letters all pointy and broad. From your angle it looks like a W and a backwards E so it takes you a few seconds to recognise what they are.

"Gotta sign the artwork." 

You hold your hand out for the pen and he passes it to you. You struggle to write upside down, reworking your initials in your head before you set them underneath his with a small plus sign. 

He leans forward and squints at it. His hair falls in his face. You ditch the pen to tuck it behind his ear, your hand tentative, your touch lingering behind his earlobe. 

You're distracted by his earring, a tiny silver stud, and don't notice he's taken the pen again until he's half finished his next addition. 

He puts the pen down with a self-satisfied hum. 

A confident heart encapsulates both of your initials. 

"You should get that for keeps." You laugh, breathless, and his smile only grows. "Yeah? That would be sweet. The bats too, if you can stomach it."

"I should start small," you murmur. 

Funny, to see any kind of bashfulness on Eddie, who's features seem designed for smugness or something similar. 

"Maybe just the E," you add with a feigned nonchalance. 

He looks like he wants to jump over the desk. Nervous laughter bubbles up your throat and you pull your arm out of his grip to cover your mouth with your hand. 

"When's your shift finish?" he asks, though he knows. 

"Five minutes." 

He starts to back out of the arcade, eyes on yours and hand aloft. "You spend those five minutes thinking about what you want tonight, yeah? I'm gonna start the van." He almost hits a little kid on the way out. You can see the muttered cuss word on his lips. When he looks back at you he's electric. "Anything you want, you can have!"

His promise makes the last five minutes feel longer than any of the hours before. 

[millie-multifics]

Prom Queen (Eddie Munson x Reader)

***********

Requested by @katamcauley

Summary: Eddie and the Reader have been secretly together since Jason forced them into “Seven Minutes in Heaven” as a prank, but now, as Eddie watches Jason and his goons flirt with you, he finds himself not caring who knows you’re his.

Warnings: Bullying, Cursing, Spicy Kissing, Sexual Themes, Drug Use (Weed), Mentions of Blood, Sexual Harassment (Nothing Graphic), and Violence (Series Typical).

(I will get a “Read More” cut on this ASAP. I am slowly knocking out requests! Thanks for your patience. Requests are OPEN. Send an ask or comment below to be added to the tag list. I’ve been thinking of doing full on Seven Minutes/Truth or Dare/Spin the Bottle hcs, so let me know if that’s something you want)

***********

“Jason, stop!” You groaned, trying to keep your feet planted, but the muscley blonde and his laughing friends were easily able to move you.

“Nah, babe. If you like trailer trash so much why don’t you spend seven minutes in heaven with it?”

You knew you should’ve stayed out of it.

But you’d heard his stupid voice all the way from where you were sitting with the cheer squad, that afternoon. And god, it was Max Mayfield, of all people. Jason had been friends with her brother. They were on the same basketball team the year before, and it seemed he was keeping Billy’s traditions alive. Patrick yanked her backpack from her arm and rifled through it as Jason grabbed her headphones.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” She spat as they dumped her bag, papers flying every which way.

Keep reading