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oskea93 · 23 hours

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I NEED MORE 🫨🫨

For A Fortnight There We Were (One Shot): It Fit Too Right

a/n: welcome to my all the things i did metaverse. please meet evelyn, a hollywood a-lister who falls in love with her co-star callum turner while filming masters of the air. this will most likely be a request based series so send them all in! would also love to flush out this relationship more with you guys through asks and chats. let me know what you think!!

He stood in the doorway of their hotel suite with a smile as he watched one person tug the corset of her gown tighter, another brush powder across her cheeks and a third place her hair over her shoulder in a meticulous manner.

“I promise we’re almost done, baby.”

“Don’t rush perfection on my account,” he said with a smile as he took a few steps into the room. “Let me help, love.” Callum grabbed the pair of heels from her stylist and dropped to one knee, Evelyn steadying herself on his shoulder as he slipped on one shoe and then the other. He kissed up her leg for good measure as she giggled, standing with a matching smile as she pulled him in for a kiss.

“People might get the wrong idea. You being on one knee like that.” In reality, he was just waiting for her to say she was ready and he’d be on one knee with a ring in hand in an instant.

“The right idea you mean.” Evelyn blushed as her team began to filter out of the room. There was always a moment before every event that the two of them wanted time to themselves. They had gotten used to picking up the tempo for when it was arriving. “One day,” he followed up with a whisper.

“One day. Soon.” He felt something blossom in his chest at her words. “Help me with my necklace?” The gold chain held a dainty C charm and fit perfectly snug around her neck as he clasped it securely.

“Gave you this necklace almost two years ago. So much has changed since then.” Yet so much had also stayed the same. They were still in each other’s orbit, circling the sun together and happy to live in this pattern for the rest of eternity.

“And we finally get to show the world our love story.” Callum wrapped his arms around her from behind and they swayed gently to the song playing in his head. “Tracy told me there’s already stories lined up about the timeline of it all. About the overlap of still being legally married and filming the show and meeting you.” Her publicist warned her as soon as the premiere was scheduled that all the questions were going to get dragged up again. The accusations and the whispers of infidelity.

“I know the truth and you know the truth, Ev. That’s all that fucking matters.” The truth was that her marriage was a disaster the entire last year. The fights about his job and her job and fertility issues and the occasional bump of coke all mixing into a toxic sludge she was still working her way through years later.

“You’ll punch anyone who asks on the carpet or on the press tour?” She looked at him over her shoulder.

“With a smile on my face,” Callum answered with a pucker of his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Begrudgingly, she untangled herself from his arms and interlocked their fingers together in its place. He squeezed tight as they took the elevator down to the lobby with their security, her other hand wrapping around his wrist for two anchor points at the sight of the paparazzi waiting for them on the sidewalk.

“Evelyn! Callum! Look to the left!

“To the right, guys, come on a little smile please!”

“Callum, how about a kiss?”

His hand landed on the small of her back as he helped her into the waiting SUV before sliding in next to her. Evelyn collapsed as the door shut. “Fucking brutal,” she muttered.

“I’m hoping they get what they want at the carpet and they can leave us alone when we get back tonight.” He reached for her hand and held it in his lap. “What are my lanes in the road for touching you tonight?”

“Are you feeling particularly handsy tonight, Mr. Turner?” she asked with a smirk as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed across each knuckle.

“That dress is an inspiration.” She leaned in with a giggle and kissed him square on the mouth.

“Then make sure everyone there tonight knows that.” His eyebrows raised on their own accord.

“Yeah? You mean that?” Normally, she was much more reserved. Making him settle for longing stares and soft, hidden smiles and subtle allusions to each other. She hid from all the attention and let her work speak for itself.

“Maybe…maybe the part of me that always wants to hide should work on healing herself tonight.” It also had been a piece of homework from her therapist this week.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, we’ll work on it tonight. Together.”

“Together,” she reiterated as he kissed her hand again and then her lips.

“You make me so happy. No matter what.”

“You make me happiest,” she laughed as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and left a few kisses there. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

----

The ride was over all too quickly, the SUV idling at the start of the carpet and the sounds of muffled screaming and yelling reaching their ears instantly. Ever since their relationship had been made public, there had been attention on them like neither had ever experienced.

She had been called a cheater, he had been called a social climber. Accusations of adultery and a months-long affair behind her husband’s back and questions on how valid Callum’s feelings could be as a less well-known star than her. Hell, Howard Stern had straight up asked her on his radio show how it felt to have power over the person she was in a relationship with when she had been so powerless previously. Callum certainly hadn’t taken kindly to the implication.

Quarantine had been the perfect bubble for their love to take root and flourish. Had insulated them from the outside world as long as possible and allowed her walls to come down. They were built up so high after her failed marriage. Reinforced as her mind worked through the mental fuckery of falling in love with your co-star. Evelyn hadn’t known where she began and the character ended for the longest time but she knew in her heart she wanted to figure it out with him.

The roar reached a fever pitch as Callum stepped out of the car, buttoned his jacket and waved to a group of fans on the side. He waited for her, watched her take a deep breath and square her shoulders before she took his outstretched hand and stepped out of the vehicle.

Her movie star smiled flitted across her face easily as their fingers interlocked and her own hand raised in a wave before letting her boyfriend slot his lips against hers to the delight of the camera flashes.

“Let’s do a couple autographs before interviews.” Her publicist gently pressed on the small of her back to guide in the direction of glossy photographs and posters and an endless sea of markers.

Evelyn smiled warmly as she let go of his hand and began to scrawl her name across various posters of her in Targaryen garb or an old military uniform or the occasional photo she had taken with a fan previously that they were now adding her penmanship to.

“Can I get a selfie?”

“Yeah of course!” She smiled with as many fans as she could and let them take a few photos to choose from before she was getting the signal it was time to keep it moving. “Thanks for coming!” Evelyn blew a few kisses to the crowd before Callum had her hand right back in his for the ensuing carpet walk.

“Ev, you want to go first?” Tracy asked as she was beginning to urge her to the first photomark. She hit the X and did her best to look at the cameras like she wanted to fuck them. Those were normally the only shots that kept their hunger sated and kept from yelling too explicitly at her the rest of the night.

She looked over her shoulder and watched Callum smile and show off his suit like it was second nature and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to look at the photos later to see just how in love she was in this moment. He took her extended hand with a mischievous smile, falling in love all over again with this side of her that he knew well but she kept hidden from the outside world.

“Let me get the two of you looking to the right!”

“Put your hands on her, mate!” “Look right at the camera with a smile, Evelyn!”

Callum furrowed his brow and wrapped his arm around her waist a little tighter as they kept fighting for a piece of them. They had both worked so hard to keep this one corner of their lives sacred and private but they couldn’t stay that way forever. Especially when they were trying to promote the show that brought them together in the first place.

“You good?” he asked, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“Hold my hand the rest of the carpet?”

“Of course, love.” Their eyes stayed locked together as he kissed the back of her hand and they made their way towards the first interviewer.

“It’s so good to see you guys again!”

“It’s good to see you too! It’s been a minute,” Evelyn replied.

“Last time I saw you, Callum, you were with George Clooney which is a hard interview companion to top-”

“Oh, I’ve done it. This one’s my companion for life.” She couldn’t help but blush at his forwardness. “This show brought so many beautiful people to my life and introduced me to this incredible story of these men and the sacrifices they made for us but I’ll never be able to articulate what meeting this woman and falling in love with her has done for me and the honor that has truly been.”

“This is why my team is always trying to keep us separate in front of a microphone because we always get a little in our feels about each other.” Evelyn rested her cheek against his chest.

“Tell me about that. You guys film this show and feel some vibes and then the premiere gets delayed for two years. Does this add to the nervousness or does it add to the excitement?”

“Definitely both,” Evelyn teases, “the characters are real people, real heroes, so there is such a desire to make sure the story is told in the most accurate, thankful way. Part of making sure that happened was fully devoting ourselves to the relationship between these two and to discover something real in the process was a really happy accident.” Her hand rested on his cheek and he kissed her palm, looking at her like she was the only girl in the entire world. For him she was.

“We had the opportunity to meet their children and grandchildren which was such a blessing because on paper I was skeptical, it seemed written for the movies, but they had letters and pictures and stories that really showed these two loved each other in a magical way their entire lives.”

“And what’s next for you two? I hear rumors we may see you, Ms. Shaw, in a movie about sand and worms…” Evelyn laughed.

“I hear Austin Butler loves worms so you should ask him. I know nothing about a movie with those themes.” She mimed sealing her lips and throwing away the key. The interviewer looked to Callum for help.

“Hey, I know even less than you do. This one’s a steel trap.”

“Alright, I’m getting the signal that the most in demand people on this carpet tonight are needing to move along. Have the best night ever you two!” They both offered their thanks before a team of security and assistants collapsed ranks around them as they moved down the carpet.

“How’d we do, Trace?” Callum asked as he swung their interlocked hands back and forth.

“You were on your best behavior. Thank you.” Evelyn was a typical client for a publicist. Did good work and got high profile projects, never caused controversy in an interview but had some skeletons in her closet. Evelyn always did exactly as she asked and took her advice as gospel. Her boyfriend on the other hand was all boisterous and laughed and sang and had not a care in the world. He wanted to hold her and kiss and let the whole world know he was in love with her and scream it from the rooftops.

“I see Mr. Butler!” Evelyn pointed directly ahead to the tall blonde man taking photos with Barry. “Oh, and Barry! I haven’t seen him recently enough to ask about bathwater.”

“Look who it is! My first and second wheel!” Austin lifted her up and spun her around before greeting Callum. “You two walking together?” While he was very familiar with their PDA behind closed doors, it was rare to see it out in the open.

“This is as close to her accepting a proposal as I’m gonna get, mate.” Ev rolled her eyes and turned to get in between them for the row of photographers currently screaming at them. She is safe in between the two of them. Had needed every ounce of it when she had arrived on set all those years ago.

She knew Callum had a ring tucked away somewhere safe. Knew he was dying with every passing day to make things between them official forever. She meant soon when she had said it earlier.

Evelyn looked up at him as the camera continued to blind her and she tuned them out. She smiled and he smiled right back. “I love you,” he whispered so it existed just between the two of them.

“I love you, too. So much.”

Yes. Soon indeed.

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oskea93 · 12 days

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✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Two ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

Taglist: @oskea93, @keyweegirlie @ravennaortiz

As the California sun beat down on me, the wind whipping through my hair as I rode on the back of the motorcycle, I couldn't help but reflect on the narrow-minded beliefs my parents had instilled in me and my brothers. Growing up in a conservative household where conformity and judgment were the norm, I had always been taught to view anyone who rode motorcycles as nothing but trash – individuals destined for the depths of hell.

My parents, staunch believers in their own sect of holy rollers, held strong prejudices against those who lived differently or held alternative beliefs. They saw the world in black and white, with no room for shades of gray or understanding. But as I clung to the back of the driver, feeling the freedom of the open road beneath me, I realized how misguided their teachings had been.

The rider in front of me, a stranger whose name I learned was Tig, exuded a sense of liberation and rebellion that I had never experienced before. The rumble of the engine beneath us seemed to drown out the judgmental voices of my past, and for the first time, I felt truly alive.

When the group first pulled up in front of me, I didn’t know whether to take their offer or run for the distant hills. Growing up, the horror stories of gangs kidnapping young girls and doing the unthinkable were ingrained in my psyche as my mother preached of their dangers. She would spew words of hatred and fear whenever the topic arose, warning me to steer clear of any suspicious-looking individuals or groups that might pose a threat.

As I stood there, frozen in indecision, the leader of the group stepped forward with a smile that seemed almost too friendly for someone in his position. His eyes held a glint of mischief, but there was something else there too – a hint of vulnerability that I couldn’t quite place.

"Hey there, don’t be afraid," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We’re just a group of travelers looking for some company on the road. We mean you no harm."

I hesitated, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Should I trust this stranger and accept his offer of companionship, or should I heed the warnings of my mother and make a run for it? The decision weighed heavily on my shoulders, the consequences of each choice playing out vividly in my mind.

In the end, curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself nodding hesitantly, agreeing to join the group on their journey. As I climbed onto the back of his bike and we set off down the road together, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was embarking on an adventure that would change my life forever.

As we finally started to slow down upon entering a small town called Charming, I couldn't help but notice the reactions of the locals as the bikes rumbled past. Pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening with surprise and disapproval as they watched the group pass by. Disapproving looks were etched on their faces, and I could almost feel the judgment radiating towards them.

The quaint shops and cafes that lined the main street seemed to quiet down as we rode through, the sound of the engines cutting through the peaceful ambiance of the town. I could see the whispers and sideways glances exchanged among the townspeople, their curiosity mixed with a hint of fear or disdain.

The men didn’t seem to mind the disapproving looks from the townspeople – smirks on some of their faces as they revved their engines a little more as they passed by. The sound of the engines roared through the quiet streets, echoing off the old brick buildings that lined the road.

As they pulled into a side entrance of a garage, I knew this was officially the end of the line for them. I watched as they parked side-by-side, each backing their bikes into their assigned spaces. The engines sputtered to a halt, the sound gradually fading into the background as the men dismounted and stretched their legs.

I quickly gathered my things, removing myself from the bike, my legs feeling equivalent to jelly as they gathered the strength to hold up my weight. The adrenaline that had fueled me through the ride was now dissipating, leaving behind a feeling of exhaustion and exhilaration.

I leaned against a nearby lamppost, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The men exchanged nods and grins as they gathered in a loose circle, their leather jackets creaking slightly as they moved.

One of them, a tall man with a patchwork of tattoos covering his arms, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered them around. The faint smell of smoke mingled with the lingering scent of gasoline, creating a heady mix that hung in the air.

As they lit up and took long drags, their faces relaxed into expressions of contentment. The tension that had hung over them during the ride seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose.

The door to the business slowly opened, an older woman stepped onto the concrete below. Her presence commanded attention, exuding a sense of authority and confidence that made it clear she was not to be underestimated. The leather pants she wore hugged her figure, accentuating her strong and graceful movements as she made her way towards the men.

Her blonde highlights caught the sunlight, creating a halo of shimmering gold around her head. Despite the warmth of the day, there was a coolness in her gaze that hinted at a steely resolve beneath the polished exterior. I observed from a respectful distance as Gemma interacted with the men, her gestures filled with warmth and affection that spoke of deep bonds and shared history. She moved among them with ease, exchanging hugs and kisses that spoke of a familial closeness that went beyond mere camaraderie.

A tall man approached her from behind, his presence exuding a sense of quiet strength and authority. He wrapped his strong arms around her small waist, drawing her close in a gesture that was both protective and intimate. The woman’s laughter rang out, a clear and joyful sound that seemed to light up the space around them.

Their lips met in a brief but tender kiss, a display of affection that was unapologetically open and genuine. There was a sense of ease and comfort between them, a connection that ran deep and unspoken, forged through years of shared experiences and challenges.

My eyes moved away from the couple as the door reopened, this time revealing a blonde man. He looked to be in his early 20s – shoulder length hair resting against his work shirt. I don’t know how I looked to those around, but it was almost like how a cartoon character’s draw drops to the floor – he was gorgeous. I watched as he stepped off the stoop, sauntering over to the circle of men, clapping them on the back as he welcomed their return.

I was so caught up in the enigmatic presence of the blonde man that I failed to notice another individual had quietly slipped into the corner with us – the older woman with a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her voice, smooth and seasoned, cut through the hazy atmosphere around us.

"You lost, kitten?" she inquired, her tone a curious blend of amusement and concern. Her eyes, framed by fine lines that whispered of wisdom and experience, held a glint of something indefinable, as though she saw more than just the surface of things.

Startled by her sudden appearance and the unexpected nickname, I turned to face her, momentarily at a loss for words. The air between us crackled with a kind of unspoken understanding, as if she could see right through the facade I presented to the world.

“Sorry-“ I stammered. “I – uh-“

A smile spread across her face as she placed her hand on my arm, her touch warm and comforting. "You must be the little one the guys picked up on their way home. Tig told me all about you when he called a little while ago."

Memories of when we stopped at the gas station hours before came flooding back – the smell of gasoline, the flickering lights, and the sound of chatter from the other customers. I remembered my eyes connecting with Tig’s as he spoke animatedly in the glass box, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and excitement.

"What’s your name, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her eyes kind and curious.

Tucking a loose red strand of hair behind my ear, I replied, "Catherine. Catherine Landry." My voice was low, almost a whisper, as if unsure of my own presence in this moment.

The woman's smile widened, a glint of recognition flashing in her eyes. "Catherine Landry," she repeated softly, as if savoring the sound of the name. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Catherine. I'm Gemma."

As I started to speak, the sound of gravel crunching beneath heavy steps caught my attention, drawing my gaze away from Gemma. I turned, my eyes following the path of the approaching figure with blonde hair that glinted in the bright sunshine.

He walked with purpose, his strides confident and measured, his presence commanding attention. The gravel shifted under his weight, creating a rhythmic pattern that seemed to echo the beating of my heart.

As he drew closer, I noticed the intensity in his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to search and assess, taking in every detail of the scene before him. There was a certain magnetism about him, a silent strength that seemed to radiate from his very being.

Gemma's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her features as she greeted him with a nod. "Hey baby," she said, her voice warm and welcoming.

As the two embraced one another, I stood there, a silent observer to the intimate moment unfolding before me. The man's eyes remained fixed on me, a hint of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite decipher lingering in their depths.

Gemma's arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her embrace filled with a sense of familiarity and comfort. There was a closeness between them, a bond that seemed to transcend words and time.

I watched as they held each other, their connection palpable in the air around them. It was as if they shared a history, a story that only they knew, leaving me on the outside looking in, a stranger to their world.

As they finally pulled away, a silent understanding passing between them, the man turned his gaze back to me. There was a question in his eyes, a silent inquiry that hung in the air, waiting to be answered.

As Gemma turned her attention back to me, her warm smile lighting up her face, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within me. "Catherine," she began, her voice filled with a sense of familiarity and fondness, "This is my son, Jackson."

Jackson. The name echoed in my mind, stirring something deep within me. I looked up to meet his gaze, finding a pair of eyes that held a hint of curiosity and a touch of amusement.

Gemma's introduction caught me off guard, her words painting a picture of me as a lost soul in need of rescue. "She's the little thing that Tig and the guys picked up along the way," she explained, her tone lighthearted but tinged with a hint of motherly concern.

I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes at her explanation, feeling a twinge of annoyance at being likened to a stray puppy. It was true that I had found myself in an unexpected situation, but I was no damsel in distress in need of saving.

As I exchanged greetings with Jackson, a sense of curiosity sparked within me. There was something about him, a quiet strength and a depth in his eyes that hinted at hidden layers beneath the surface.

Jackson smirked and his eyes roamed up my body, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me, causing a slight flush to rise to my cheeks. His gaze held a hint of mischief and confidence, leaving me momentarily flustered in his presence.

"It's nice to meet you too," I replied, trying to maintain a composed demeanor despite the flutter of nerves within me. There was something magnetic about Jackson, an undeniable charm that drew me in even as I felt the weight of his scrutiny.

Gemma's proud voice interrupted the moment, drawing my attention back to her as she spoke of her son. "Jax is the leader of the group," she said with a hint of pride. "Along with my other son, Thomas." The revelation that there were two brothers leading the group took me by surprise. “Club comes from a strong line of Teller men," Gemma continued, her tone filled with reverence and hope for the future. "Hoping to continue that tradition in the future." She affectionately patted Jackson's chest, her gesture a symbol of both maternal pride and a legacy to uphold.

Jackson rolled his eyes at his mother's suggestion, a hint of amusement danced in his gaze.

"Trust me," he stated, his deep voice carrying a sense of authority that cut through the air, "She's really the one in charge."

The bond between Jackson and Gemma was palpable from the very beginning. It was clear to anyone who observed them that they shared a special connection, a closeness that went beyond words. Jackson was the one closest to his mother, their relationship built on a foundation of trust, understanding, and unwavering loyalty.

In contrast, Thomas seemed to be as far removed from Gemma as possible. There was a distance between them, an unspoken divide that hinted at unresolved issues and unspoken tensions. While Jackson and Gemma thrived in each other's company, Thomas seemed to seek solace elsewhere, distancing himself from the intricate web of relationships that defined their family dynamic.

Jax and Gemma's bond ran deep, a complex tapestry of emotions that intertwined their fates in ways that were both captivating and destructive. They fed off each other's energy, their connection fueled by a sense of mutual need and dependency that bordered on obsession.

Thick as thieves one moment, brutal enemies the next, their relationship was a rollercoaster of emotions that played out like a high-stakes drama. Time slipped away, leaving behind a trail of unresolved conflicts and simmering tensions that threatened to erupt at any moment.

The heat that Gemma placed between her two sons was a double-edged sword, igniting a fire that fueled their passions and their conflicts in equal measure. Theirs was a relationship fraught with complexity, where love and loyalty mingled with jealousy and resentment, creating a volatile mix that kept them locked in a perpetual dance of push and pull.

Thomas felt the weight of his mother Gemma's favoritism like a heavy chain, binding him to a perpetual cycle of disappointment and resentment. From a young age, he watched as Gemma showered his older brother Jackson with praise and attention, leaving him in the shadows of Jax's achievements. Despite his best efforts to earn her approval, Gemma's preference for Jackson was unwavering, creating a toxic atmosphere of rivalry and animosity between the Teller brothers.

"So, from what I heard, you’re hitching to San Francisco?” Gemma spoke as she looked at me with curiosity. “What’s so important down there that you had to leave home for?” She pushed past her son, taking hold of my arm as she started walking up towards the building.

“From the looks of you-“She did a once over. “Looks to me like you’re running away from something – midwestern lifestyle, perhaps?” Gemma's keen observation caught me off guard, her words cutting through my carefully crafted facade. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I hadn't anticipated.

I cleared my throat nervously, feeling the weight of my confession hanging in the air. "My parents are very conservative – conservative and very religious," Her eyes closing in understanding, Gemma listened intently as I opened about my inner conflict. "They're lovely people – " I began to backpedal, feeling a need to qualify my earlier statement. "But the life I want to live doesn't match with how they want me to live. I want to be able to be free and do what I please, but they're all about the image and how the Lord wants us to live our lives."

"You ran away?" Gemma's voice was filled with concern and empathy, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I nodded slowly, the memories of that night flooding. "Left in the middle of the night after my father beat me with a switch," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes cast down to the ground, unable to meet Gemma's gaze as the shame and hurt of that moment washed over me once again. "He called me awful names, and my mother just sat there and watched."

Gemma's back straightened, a steely resolve entering her expression as she processed my words. "Doesn't sound to me like they're lovely people," she stated firmly, her voice tinged with indignation.

I shrugged my shoulders, “That’s just how they are – been like that my whole life.” I knew I shouldn’t be making excuses for them, but they were my parents. “I’m the only daughter – I was supposed to be the epitome of a perfect daughter.”

“What could be so bad that your daddy beats you?”

I watched as she pulled out a cigarette, gesturing for me to take one as well. She quickly lit the end of the stick, the smoke invading my lungs with ease. “I started messing around with boys at an early age – sex, drugs, dancing. Sex was my go-to though. They didn’t want their only daughter being known as the town whore, which I guess I became. I was supposed to save myself until I was married – only letting my wedded husband lay between my legs.”

Gemma chuckled, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Sounds a lot like my folks," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and humor.

"I just needed to get away, and after seeing all those people on the nightly news coming out here and living life their own way and being free and peaceful –" I paused, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. "I just need that in my life right now. A life where I can be free and do whatever I want to do. And if that means I have to do negative things to get to that place, then so be it."

As I spoke, I felt a mix of determination and uncertainty churning within me. The longing for freedom and self-expression had grown into a burning desire, fueled by the stories of those who had dared to defy conventions and carve out their own paths. The allure of a life unbound by limitations and expectations beckoned to me like a distant star, promising a sense of liberation and authenticity that had eluded me for so long.

“You know –“Gemma started. “The Frisco area isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Her tone matter of fact. “I know it looks all peace and love on the tv screen but it’s really just a bunch of homeless hippies that are looking for attention and free handouts.”

I let out an annoyed sigh.

"Listen, little girl," her voice took on a more serious tone, the lines on her face softening with a mix of concern and affection. "You've accomplished the biggest goal you set for yourself – you made it all the way to California." She paused, letting the significance of the moment sink in before continuing.

A wide smile slowly spread across her face, reflecting pride and admiration. "By what you just told me, that was the ultimate goal. Now, I know going a little further south for the whole peace and love movement was the next quest, but I think for your sake it would be better for you to stay here."

“I don’t know anyone here, though.” I was grasping for excuses.

Her face twisted in a mix of concern and determination. "You weren't gonna know anyone down there either." She tossed her cigarette down, the ember extinguishing under the pressure of her heeled shoe. "You've managed to meet a whole crew of men that will now look after you if you choose to stay. You've met me and Jax – you'll get to meet Thomas when he decides to come home. You're no longer around strangers, baby doll. We can be your family – a family that'll treat you right."

Her voice softened, the edges of her tough exterior melting away to reveal a deep sense of care and protection. "We've seen the world through different lenses, faced our own battles, and carved out our own paths in this chaotic dance of life. But amidst all the chaos, we found each other – kindred spirits bound by shared experiences and unspoken connections."

The older woman's eyes held a glimmer of hope, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance. "You have a home here, among friends who will stand by you through thick and thin, who will lift you up when you stumble and celebrate your victories as their own. Take a chance on us, darling. Let us be the family you never knew you needed, but always longed for deep in your heart."

I would end up staying in that small fucking town for the next 25 years – my whole world coming to revolve around the Teller family and the Sons of Anarchy.

#sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller #austin butler

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oskea93 · 20 days

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✶ Whiskey (2) ✶ - John “Bucky” Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ Chapter warning: Sexual content, period sexism, spousal belittling, cursing Words: 4353 A/N: Hello again! First off, I just want to say thank you so much for the love and support y'all have shown this story!! You guys are amazing and you have no idea how much I appreciate you guys! So, with this chapter, we get to meet Dominik and Marigold - the husband and MIL. These two will have major impacts on our OC's life and at times their treatment towards her will not be very nice. We also get to meet the most important person in our OCs life... The bright side, we will see our OC spending time with a certain Major 🥵. This story is just getting started and I promise that Mr. Egan and all the fabulous men of the 100th will come to light in the upcoming chapter. It's gonna be a wild one! If you would like to be added to the tag list, just comment your username ☺︎

“I don’t see why you need to accompany your husband to such a location – full of men waiting for their chance to die.”

Rolling my eyes, I kept my mouth shut as my mother-in-law moved around the room. She had volunteered herself to accompany Dom and I to England – stating that she needed to be here for the sake of her granddaughter.

“What’re you expected to do while he’s working? Just longue around and make eyes with all the soldiers – give them blue balls so they can go back to their barracks and dream about you?”

A smile tugged at my face, “Somebody has to get them a little excited, Marigold.”

Her brows knitting together – unsure if I was being serious of not. “That’s what those pin-up women are for – you’re a married woman, Rachel. Married to one of the top colonels in the army – you don’t need to be strutting around like some old whore.”

Sighing, I pushed myself off the chair, her eyes watching me like the hawk she is. “Are you faithful to my son?” The question causing me to stop in my tracks. “You wouldn’t think about stepping out on him, would you?”

Her dark eyes bore into my soul, their intensity like a piercing gaze from the depths of the night. With each passing moment, I felt a shiver run down my spine, as if her gaze held the power to unravel the very core of my being. In that fleeting instant, the world around me seemed to fade away, leaving only her eyes, dark and mysterious, capturing my every thought and emotion in their enigmatic depths. “No –“My tone defensive. “Why ever would you think that?”

Feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation, she shrugged her shoulders, the weight of the moment causing her lips to press tightly together in a display of silent resolve.

“What gives you the idea that I would be unfaithful to Dominik? Because of what I said – that was a joke – they’re very popular nowadays.” Her back straightening at my bitter return.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite Mari's biting words. Our relationship had always been strained, but her sharp remarks never failed to sting.

"I understand your concern, Mari," I replied evenly, meeting her gaze. "But I'm not going to England to flirt with soldiers. I'll be there to support Dom and assist in any way I can. It's important for us to be together during his assignment."

Mari huffed, clearly not convinced. "Just be careful, Rachel. Men in uniform can be quite charming, but they're not to be trusted. Don't forget your responsibilities as a wife and a mother."

Her words echoed in my mind, stirring up a mix of frustration and resignation. I knew Mari meant well in her own way, but her traditional views often clashed with my more independent spirit.

"Again, I appreciate your concern, Mari," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I'll always prioritize my family above all else. You can trust me on that."

In that fleeting moment of our interaction, as her captivating eyes locked onto mine, a subtle yet unmistakable expression of doubt crept into her gaze. "I hope so, Rachel. You have a good husband and a beautiful daughter. Don't take that for granted."

In the intricate web of relationships that intertwined our lives, tensions simmered just below the surface, threatening to erupt at any moment. Marigold's disapproval of me seemed to stem from a place of deep-seated insecurity and a need to control the narrative surrounding her son's marriage.

From the very beginning of Dom and I’s relationship, Marigold had made it clear that she held certain expectations for the woman who would become her daughter-in-law. My lack of pedigree, my fiery red hair, and perceived lack of refinement were all points of contention for Marigold. In her eyes, I was an outsider, unworthy of her son's prestigious lineage.

The constant barrage of criticism and belittling remarks from Marigold had taken its toll on me, chipping away at my confidence and sense of self-worth. Despite my best efforts to prove her loyalty and devotion to Dominik, I found herself caught in a never-ending cycle of scrutiny and judgment.

As Marigold insinuated doubts about my fidelity and questioned my motives, I felt a surge of indignation rise within myself. The implication that I would betray Dominik, the man I loved, cut deep, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Yet, I understood that Marigold's insecurities and fears were driving her behavior, fueling her need to assert control over the situation.

The dynamics between myself and Marigold were fraught with unspoken tensions and power struggles, each woman vying for dominance in their own way. My defiance in the face of Marigold's criticisms and barbs hinted at an underlying strength and resilience that belied my outward appearance.

She lightly cleared her throat, the sound echoing in the opulent room. "Darling," she began, her voice smooth but with an underlying tension. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips, not quite reaching her eyes. "I know you would never hurt my son in such a fashion."

With deliberate grace, she slowly rose from her seat, her elegant movements betraying the subtle power she held. Her hand smoothed down the expensive fabric of her dress, erasing any hint of imperfection. "You're a very beautiful girl - woman," she remarked, her words laced with a mixture of compliment and observation.

Turning to face me fully, she continued, her gaze piercing yet enigmatic. "Those men at Thorpe Abbots haven't seen or been around a real woman in who knows how long - only the women that are working or the local townies." Her voice trailed off momentarily, her hands coming to rest gently on my arms. "It's going to be hard for them to resist you."

I regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as she pivoted back towards the chair, as if the weight of her words had dissipated as quickly as they had been spoken. I felt the urge to respond rising within me, but something in her demeanor made me hesitate, my words left unspoken.

As she settled back into her seat, a subtle yet unmistakable smugness crept into her expression, adding a layer of complexity to her otherwise composed facade. Her eyes met mine once more, a silent challenge lingering in their depths.

"Better get packing, darling," she remarked casually, the nonchalance in her tone belying the undercurrent of tension that hung in the air…

We lay in silence, the distant sounds of the bustling streets below providing a gentle background melody that filled the room. His touch, feather-light against the curve of my ribcage, sent a shiver of electricity racing through my body.

"Someone walking over your grave?" he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes as he traced patterns on my skin with his fingertips.

Resting my chin on his chest, our gazes locked in a shared moment of intimacy. "Excuse me?" I replied, a hint of curiosity in my voice.

He chuckled softly, the sound like music in the quiet room, as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face. "My pops used to say that when you get a cold chill, it means someone is walking on your grave." His words carried a touch of nostalgia and folklore.

Raising my eyebrows in amusement, I shook my head. "Can't say I've heard that one before."

As my left hand trailed down his chest, I noticed the cross necklace he wore, a simple yet meaningful charm that he kept close for protection. Taking the pendant between my thumb and index finger, I studied it briefly before placing it gently in the center of his chest, my fingers lingering over the cool metal.

"My mom gave it to me before I left," he explained, his voice tinged with emotion. "I'm not really a believer, but you need something to protect you out there."

Moved by his vulnerability, I began to share a piece of my own family history. "My grandmother was a God-fearing woman," I started, the memories of her devout faith flooding back. "She would attend church on Sundays and Wednesdays, unwavering in her devotion even in the face of adversity." A pang of sorrow touched my heart as tears threatened to well up in my eyes. "But when my Grandad fell ill, her faith wavered. She prayed for miracles as he lay dying, his lungs ravaged by years spent in the mines."

The weight of past grief hung heavy in the air between us, the shared stories weaving a bond of understanding and empathy that transcended words.

John's arm tightened around my waist; his unwavering attention focused on every word I spoke.

"After he passed away, she changed," I continued, a wistful smile playing on my lips as I reminisced. "She stopped praying, stopped going to church as often, stopped believing. My grandad was her entire world, her reason for everything. She used to tell my brother and me that God had led Grandad into her life." The warmth of nostalgia colored my voice as I shared the cherished memories.

"She would say that she prayed for God to send her a hard-working farm boy - one with dark hair and skilled hands." John's chest rumbled with laughter; his amusement palpable in the air between us. "And one day, it was as if he appeared out of the heavens, right at Sampson's Feed store across the street from her daddy's farm."

As I slowly rose from the bed, the sheet draped around my waist, I pulled my legs up to my chest, lost in the recollection. "She loved that man more than anything - perhaps even more than she loved God, I think."

The bed shifted as John pressed his chest against my back, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Have you ever felt that kind of love?" His whisper tickled my ear, his words laden with a depth of emotion.

Turning my head, our lips met in a soft, tender kiss, an unspoken connection weaving between us in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Does right now count?" I murmured between kisses, the warmth of our closeness enveloping us.

A smile played on John's lips as he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well," he teased, gently guiding me into a lying position on the mattress, "you were certainly calling for him earlier."

We both laughed, the shared moment of levity breaking through any lingering tension. I wrapped my arms around his neck, our gazes meeting with a mix of affection and sincerity.

"You're so beautiful," He whispered, his words carrying a depth of feeling that stirred my heart.

My fingers tangled in his brown locks, finding their place at the nape of his neck. "As are you, John Egan." I replied, the unspoken bond between us growing stronger with each passing moment.

His lips met mine in a gentle manner, each light peck carrying a world of unspoken emotions, his hand tenderly caressing my cheek with a touch that spoke volumes. We lingered in that moment of quiet intimacy, the outside world fading into insignificance as we shared a silent connection that transcended words.

After a moment, he lifted himself up from the bed, leaving the sheet behind as he made his way to the curtained window. I watched as his back muscles moved beneath his skin, a silent display of tension and contemplation as he gazed out at the streets below. The sun had hidden behind the thickening clouds, casting the room into a dim twilight as the impending rain approached.

Quietly, I crawled out of the bed, the sheet slipping off my body as I closed the distance between us.

Instinctively, my arms wrapped around his mid-section, offering a comforting embrace. "Are you okay?" I whispered, pressing my lips against his back, seeking to convey my support through the simple contact of our bodies.

He let out a deep sigh, his body relaxing into my touch as his hands found their place atop mine. "You ever wonder if all of this is really worth it?" His voice held a weight of solemn reflection as he voiced the doubts that lingered in his mind. "All this killing and bombing - innocent lives lost every day, many of them unaware until it's too late." The heaviness of his words echoed the burdens he carried, the moral complexities of his actions weighing heavily on his conscience.

Listening to his inner turmoil, I felt a surge of empathy and understanding for the struggles he faced. "You can't beat yourself up about that, John," I spoke softly, offering reassurance in the face of his inner turmoil. "The choices you've made, the actions you've taken - they may be part of a larger conflict, but you have to remember the good you're fighting for, the lives you're trying to protect."

John and I barely knew one another, but even in the brief moments we shared, it was evident that the weight of war was bearing down heavily on him. His eyes, once bright with youthful vigor, now held a weariness that seemed to go beyond mere physical exhaustion. It was a weariness of the soul, a deep-seated fatigue born from the harrowing experiences he had endured on the battlefield.

"My pal Buck says the same thing," He remarked, a faint smile edging on his face as memories of their conversations flooded back. "He always told me to just worry about getting back home to Wisconsin – making sure our country and those helping us fight those German pricks win the battle – big or small."

As the rain began to drum against the windowpanes, a sense of shared vulnerability enveloped us, binding us together in a moment of shared empathy and support amidst the storm of uncertainty and doubt.

His hands fell from mine as he turned towards me, his eyes falling on my naked frame. The slightest hint of sadness could be seen in his irises. Without hesitation, I closed the gap between us, his callused hands reaching my thighs, bending down slightly as he hoisted me onto his hips. Our lips never separating, a muffled moan purred through my body as my back hit the wall next to the window. The cooling fall air that drifted in from the draft window was no match for the heat that coursed through my body as John’s touch lit a fire in and outside my body.

As our embrace deepened, the weight of the war seemed to momentarily fade away, replaced by a sense of raw connection and passion. In that fleeting moment, there was only the two of us, lost in a dance of desire and longing.

The world outside may have been engulfed in chaos and uncertainty, but within the walls of that room, time seemed to stand still. Each touch, each kiss, spoke volumes of unspoken emotions and desires. It was a moment of respite, a brief escape from the harsh realities of the outside world.

With the leverage from the wall, his hand made quick work as it moved between our bodies, his large fingers finding my clit, my hips responding as they moved against his touch.

“John, please.” My mouth latching onto his neck, an animalistic growl releasing from his body.

His paced quickened, “Tell me what you want.” His breath hot against my ear. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

My teeth biting down harder on his neck as my walls began to clench around his touch. “Goddammit, Rachel –“His words full of lust. “Tell me what you fucking want.”

The pleasure causing tears to form in my eyes, “Fuck me, John.” Out of breath. “Please just fuck me, please!” Without warning, his cock slammed into me. His lips harshly meeting mine, stifling the gasp that fell between our kiss.

The pace was fast – hard as our hips slapped against one another. His fingers digging into my sides as my nails dragged down his back, hard enough to pull away the first layer of skin.

“Harder.” I begged. “Oh God, please go harder!”

I cried out in pain as my back repeatedly hit the wall behind me – his cock swelling inside of me as we started to reach our climax.

The warm sensation soon flooded my core, the liquid rolling down my leg as his cock stayed buried inside of me. His lips peppering kisses along my collarbone as my fingers floated through his hair as we both regained our breath.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it back to the base.”

“And why’s that?” His hips slowly moving again.

“Because-“The friction between our hips causing us both to groan. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

As the soft glow of the vanity lights illuminated the room, casting a warm ambiance over the space, Dominik's footsteps echoed against the wooden floors, the sound a rhythmic accompaniment to the weight of the impending departure. His words lingered in the air, carrying with them a mixture of anticipation and melancholy.

"I spoke with Colonel Huglin over the phone today," His voice tinged with a hint of tension that belied the calm facade he tried to maintain. "It seems like everything is ready for our arrival in the morning."

I turned to face him, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. His hair, usually meticulously styled, now bore the tousled look of a man consumed by nerves and the weight of responsibility.

"My mother is going to take Charlotte back to the States once we get on the plane," Dominik continued, his words hanging between us with unspoken emotions. "I told her to stay here for a while, but she's insistent on getting out of England."

I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes at Marigold's insistence on whisking Charlotte away to New York. The prospect of being separated from my daughter for an unknown stretch of time tugged at my heart, the idea of her absence leaving an ache in its wake. While Dominik and Marigold argued that the military base was no place for a young girl, I couldn't shake the feeling that there were other children in the town who could keep her company.

“What time do we leave?” I asked, my voice tinged with concern.

Dominik checked his watch, furrowing his brow. “Huglin mentioned the plane will be ready at nine sharp. We need to be at the airfield no later than 8:30.”

I bit my lip, a pang of sadness washing over me. “Charlotte will still be sleeping when we leave. I can’t bear not saying goodbye to her. We don’t know how long we’ll be a part. Your mother isn’t gonna let me wake her that early.”

“Maybe it’s best we leave without saying goodbye.” Dominik suggested, his tone matter of fact.

I stood up from the vanity, feeling a surge of frustration. “You can’t be serious, Dom?”

He shrugged, his expression impassive. “You know how my mother is. She doesn’t want Charlotte upset. She’ll have to deal with a crying child when we leave.”

Dominik’s dismissal of my feelings stung. “I’ll have Mother call the base when they land in New York and you can talk to Charlotte then,” he continued, his hands moving down my arms.

Tensions crackled in the air as he towered over me. His words, though well-intentioned, felt like a cage closing in around me. “I know it’s hard to be away from the baby, but I need you with me. You’re my rock, sweetheart,” he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on my neck. “I can’t go anywhere without my special little rock.”

I felt a mix of emotions swirling inside of me – love, frustration, and a hint of resignation. Dominik’s ability to use intimacy to end arguments was both comforting and manipulative. I knew that arguing further would only lead to more tension. So, with a heavy heart, I relented, letting the moment of peace wash over us…

As I stood by Charlotte's bedside, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm aura over the room, memories flooded her mind. Remembering the first time I held Charlotte in her arms, the overwhelming rush of love and protectiveness that consumed my heart. It was a feeling unlike any other, a bond that transcended words and explanations.

Gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from Charlotte's face, I whispered, "Sweetheart, it's time for me to go now. But remember, mommy loves you more than anything in this world." My voice cracked with emotion as I fought back tears, hand trembling slightly as I traced the curve of her cheek.

She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal sleepy, drowsy eyes. "Mama?" she murmured, her voice soft and filled with innocence.

My heart ached at the sight of my precious daughter looking up at me, so small and vulnerable in the dim light. "Hi, baby girl," my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to say goodbye before I go."

She reached out a tiny hand, her fingers seeking the comfort of her mother's touch. "Don't go, Mama," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Tears welled up in my eyes, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on Charlotte's forehead. "I have to go, darling, but I'll be back before you know it. Grandmother will take good care of you while I'm away, okay?" I reassured her, my voice filled with love and tenderness.

With a heavy heart, I tucked the covers snugly around Charlotte, tucking her in with care. Lingering for a moment, savoring the quiet peace of the room before I reluctantly turned to leave.

As I stepped out into the hallway, a familiar voice made me jump in surprise. "A little early for tears, Rachel," Mari's voice floated towards her, her figure blending into the shadows of the room.

Startled, I clutched my chest, heart racing from the unexpected encounter. "Marigold, you nearly gave me a heart attack," I gasped, trying to steady my breathing.

Mari's gaze flickered towards Charlotte's room, her expression unreadable. "Dominik told you not to wake her," she reminded in a low tone. "You know how she gets when you leave her. It wasn't a wise choice, Rachel."

Feeling a pang of guilt, I nodded silently, realizing the impact of my actions. With a heavy sigh, I prepared myself for the difficult task ahead, knowing that leaving Charlotte behind was a sacrifice I had to make for now.

I watched as she retreated into Charlotte's room, glaring daggers as she closed the door behind her, the tension between us palpable in the air. I stood there for a moment, the silence of the house buzzing in my ears like a persistent drone, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within me. With a heavy exhale, I gathered my resolve and took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The faint sound of a car engine humming in the distance pulled me back to the present, prompting me to make my way towards the awaiting vehicle, each step feeling heavier than the last as I left the turbulent scene behind me.

The weather once again mimicked the mood, a common occurrence for England, with dark clouds looming overhead and a chilly wind cutting through the air. Despite the dreariness of the day, there was a certain familiarity in the gray skies and mist that enveloped the surroundings, as if nature itself was reflecting the emotional turmoil within.

My eyes met the driver's, a silent exchange of gratitude passing between us as he held the car door open, a small gesture that spoke volumes amidst the unspoken tension that lingered in the air. Dominik's body stiff beside me, his presence a palpable force in the confined space of the car.

"I told you to leave her alone, Rachel. I told you not to wake her, and of course, you never listen." Dominik's voice was low, the words carrying a weight of frustration and disappointment.

He stared out the window, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside, the rigid set of his jaw betraying his inner turmoil.

"After your little emotional moment," Dominik's voice cut through the tense silence in the car, his words laced with a hint of frustration. He paused; the weight of his gaze heavy as he turned to look at me briefly before returning his attention to the road ahead. "You better hope we're not late getting to the airfield."

His words stung, a stark reminder of the consequences of my actions and the impact they had on our plans. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing that my emotional outburst had potentially jeopardized Dominik's mission and the success of the operation ahead. The weight of his disapproval bore down on me, adding to the already heavy atmosphere in the car.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to form a coherent response. The reality of the situation sank in, the urgency of our mission overshadowing any personal grievances or misunderstandings between us. With a deep breath, I nodded silently, understanding the gravity of the situation and the need to focus on the task at hand.

As the car started to move away, my thoughts were consumed by Charlotte. I had envisioned our trip to Thorpe Abbots with Dominik as a special event, a chance for us to bond and create lasting memories together. Dominik, poised to become the 2nd colonel in command, was about to embark on a crucial mission to take down the German forces, and I had hoped to support him in this pivotal moment of his career.

However, as the weight of our unspoken tensions and misunderstandings hung heavy in the air, I couldn't shake the feeling of missed opportunities and shattered expectations. What was meant to be a moment of triumph and unity now seemed clouded by discord and distance.

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oskea93 · 26 days

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✦ It Had to be You: Two ✦

John “Bucky” Egan x OC Gale “Buck Cleven x OC

● If you would like to be tagged, just comment below ●

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“You need to eat something, Carolina – “ My mother’s voice straining. “You’re withering away to that of a corpse.”

The thought of eating anything at this point, especially the pickled beetroot, was enough to make me want to vomit. I moved the spoon around in the liquid, playing with it as if I were still a child. You really don’t feel like eating after watching the love of your life be lowered into the hard, cold ground.

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not hungry.” Mother darting her gaze in my direction. “Thank you anyway, Mother.”

I knew her patience with me was starting to wane, her emotions taking a direct hit as well. I didn’t want to do anything – eat, bathe, talk – I just wanted to be left alone and that was killing her to see. My father on the other hand just pushed everything to the side, whispering to mother that this too shall pass. He had fought in the Great War – seeing many of his fellow colleagues and friends shot down right in front of him. He knew the tolls of war and what they could do to someone’s psyche, especially the wives of the soldiers that never made it home. To him, this was a natural part of life. To my father, Gale was taken for a reason that we didn’t have any business knowing. It was his time to go and there was nothing that any of us could do about it.

She took a seat at the table across from me, pushing her greying hair from her face. The air was silent between us, neither her nor I making direct eye contact. She finally broke the ice, clearing her throat before speaking,

“Carolina –“She took a short pause as she gathered her words. “I won’t tell you that I know how you’re feeling right now because I’ve never had to deal with such tragedy, but I can’t stand seeing you act this way, darling.” Tears brimming her lined eyes. “You're love for Gale is something that I admire greatly and I know he was your everything if not more –“I narrow my eyes as she speaks. “But you can’t keep pushing yourself down this rabbit hole of self-neglect and mourning.”

I was appalled – dumbfounded that she would even say such a thing.

“He was you're first love – and while that is important – you are still young, and I don’t want to see your beauty go to waste.”

“I just buried my husband less than four hours ago and you’re telling me that I need to suck it up and go find another man?” My voice low. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?”

She was taken back by my question – her eyes squinting at my argument. “I just want what’s best for you, Ca-“

“No-“ I cut her off. “I’m not gonna sit here and be lectured by someone who’s never been through what I’m going through at this moment.” My voice quivering with anger. “Gale was the love of my life – and I’m sorry if you’ve never felt that way towards Daddy, but there’s no man on this planet that could ever fill Gale’s shoes and there never will be.”

My chair scrapped against the hardwood floor as I jump up to leave. I could hear her calls as I marched back to the bedroom, slamming the door with all my might. The sobs that I had held back escaped as I slid to the floor – my knees curling into my chest as the tears streamed down my face.

I didn’t even cry when they lowered his casket into the ground.

The shock of that being the last image of Gale that I would ever see again sending my body into a hypnotic state. My mother’s words finally breaking the damn open – my anger allowing the floodgates to open…

“You see that soldier over there – “Her painted finger pointing in the man’s direction. “I bet you I can get him to ask me to dance during the next song.”

I rolled my eyes as I sipped on my coke, watching as Brenda and the other girls at the table laughed and flirted with the man in question. He was tall and dark headed – not really that handsome – but that was for her to worry about. Brenda Cogsworth was a girl that my mother forced me to be around. Her mother and my mother had grown up together, becoming friends while our fathers were fighting in the First World War. The Cogsworth family had money, but class was missed with their precious Brenda. She was wild as a stallion, kissing ever boy that looked in her direction. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up knocked up or infected by a disease that Penicillin couldn’t cure.

“Why aren’t you putting yourself out there, Carolina?”

Brenda smirked to her friends as she waited for my reply. It was obvious they were teasing - knowing that I hadn’t spoken to a single fella since I arrived. My mother had forced me to come to the dance – telling me that I needed to be cordial – silently demanding that I find a future husband. Initially, I was a very shy person, but I opened like a flower in the Spring once I got to know someone. By coming to dances such as these, I didn’t think I was up to par with the other ladies, such as Brenda and her gaggle of friends. They had bright blonde hair and smooth skin – I had dirty blonde hair and chastity pustules that would pop up during my flow. My mother always made sure I was well dressed but you must have a pretty face, not just a nice dress to get a soldier to notice you these days.

I kept quiet as I watched the man in question smile to his friends before sauntering towards our table. He removed his cap, tucking it under his arm, as he slicked back his already oiled hair. He introduced himself, taking Brenda’s hand in his, pressing a kiss against her skin. The table swooned as they watched the events they had just discussed unfold, quietly celebrating as the solider lifted Brenda was from the table and onto the dance floor. I guess you would call them good friends for being happy for her, but these girls were calculative. They would be happy for you to your front, but their bodies were raging with envy. They all wished they could be Brenda at that moment – dancing away with a soldier that you’d be lucky to see again once the war was over.

“Now he’s a looker.”

I followed the glances of the girls as they watched the man walk towards the bar. He was dressed in slacks and a collared shirt – his blonde hair positioned in a tousled fashion.

They were right – he was very attractive – too attractive to be from around here. I watched as he spoke with another male – his smile big and bright – as he laughed at their words. The girls continued to whisper about him, telling each other to make the first move before someone else decides too.

“If you ladies will excuse me.” I took one last sip before standing up, smoothing down my dress before turning towards the gentleman. I don’t know what had gotten into me – the fact that I was tired of being the butt of their jokes – or the gumption of just trying to find out if I could confront someone of the opposite sex. My mother always told me it was the man’s place to approach for the first time. Make him do the work as you sit back and bask in the attention.

Mother’s rule went flying out the window that night.

I let out a deep breath, my hand reaching out to tap his shoulder. His friends were the first to notice me, grinning at me as the man I had sought out slowly turned around. He was about a foot taller than me – his blue eyes connected with mine.

“Hello –“My cheeks blushing. “I’m Carolina Davies.”

His eyes trailed down my body – his friends snickering as they nursed their drinks. “Carolina?” His voice deep. “Like North Carolina?”

The tone of his voice having a hint of tease, “Yeah.” My confidence starting to slowly deflate as he looked at his friends, knocking into each other as they laughed.

“Not to be a drag or anything, Carolina-“He paused as he stood a little straighter. “But your looks aren’t doing it for me, sweetheart.” He spoke matter of fact. “Sorry if me looking over at the table you were sitting at made you think that I was interested in you –“Another pause. “But I was looking at the girl you were sitting next to – the pretty one.”

I could feel tears welling in my eyes as the shame and embarrassment draped over me. I had just made a complete fool of myself – knowing damn well that I should’ve just kept my butt in that chair.

I didn’t bother saying anything else to him – there was nothing to say to be honest. I just gave him a small smile before excusing myself. The girls I had been sitting with watching the interaction, hiding their smiles as I walked by.

My stride grew faster as I pushed past the dancing couples, needing the immediate feel of fresh air on my skin. I felt like an utter fool – a reject – ugly.

The cool autumn air provided me a sense of relief as my body pressed against the brick wall of the hall. I ignored the glances of those that were entering, wiping away the stale tear that would occasionally drop from my lashes.

“Carolina?”

My eyes darting over to the man standing to the right of me. “Carolina, right?” His smile growing as I looked at him confused.

I nodded, “Yeah?” My voice weary.

He took a step closer – his facial features coming to light as he stood under the singular bulb. His smile started to fall slightly as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He shuffled his feet. “Saw what those guys did back there – should’ve never happened.”

Silence struck me – my brain trying to wrap around the words he was saying.

“I’m Gale Cleven.” A twinkle showing in his blue eyes.

“Carolina Davies.” My voice cracking.

His charming smile reappeared causing the theoretical butterflies to migrate around my stomach. He was very handsome – much more attractive than the guy at the bar. “Beautiful name for a gorgeous girl.”

I watched as the birds hopped around the yard – pulling the early worm from the soggy ground. The weather mimicked my mood – dark and grey – the sun disappearing the morning of Gale’s funeral. It had been over a week – a long week – full of sympathetic gestures and “I’m so sorry for your loss” sentiments. I had sent my parents away two days ago – no longer able to take their constant supervision – hiding sharp objects and medications so I wouldn’t harm myself in anyway.

I constantly thought about it though.

Just a flick of the blade one right way or a handful of the right pills – Gale and I would be reunited, and the worries of the world would dissipate. I could never get the gumption to do it. I was positive that Gale was looking down on me – just the way the wind would blow a certain way – or a red cardinal sitting on the fence that sat in front of the kitchen window. He wouldn’t want me to reach that level of despair. He would want me to go one and be happy, but it’s hard to do so when your heart is breaking into a million pieces. It’s hard to remain happy when lying in bed, reaching across to the spot where he once slept – the sheets cold – the empty void of waking up alone every morning.

The distant sound of a truck pulled me away from my thoughts – the familiar black Ford kicking up dust as it came closer. I let out a sigh, pulling Gale’s shirt tighter around my body, hiding the thin lace of my nightgown from John’s view.

“Morning, Carolina.” His gruff voice sounding as he removed himself from the driver’s side.

I stayed silent – rolling my eyes at the sight of him. I had gotten rid of everyone except him – John was like a piece of lint that just kept popping up – no matter how many times you swept – he still lingered long after.

My eyes glanced over as he walked to the back of the truck, pulling two suitcases from the bed. Worn leather and seeing better days, he placed them on the wooden steps. “Good to see you getting some fresh air.”

Pushing out of the rocker, I retreated into the house, the screen door slamming against the frame. Muttered words slipped past his lips; his boots heavy as he followed my direction. I had made myself a pot of coffee earlier, forgetting about it until reaching the kitchen. Pouring the dark liquid into my cup and the rest down the drain, not up to sharing with the likes of John Egan. I took a seat at the table – our eyes connecting over the coffee cup as he entered the room. Silence blanketed the room as he leaned against the counter, his gaze focused on the backyard.

“Why are you still coming around?”

His neck turning – our eyes meeting once again. “Pardon?”

Sitting up a little straighter, Gale’s shirt opening slightly as I moved. “I said –“My tone low. “Why are you still coming around? He’s dead and gone – your services around here are no longer warranted.”

“And what services might those be?” His jaw clenching.

A loud sigh blew through my nose, “Those of the mighty hero – the devoted friend – the courageous major who led his team out of the trenches. Only thing –“ I paused. “You weren’t brave enough to take the bullet yourself, letting your dear friend, Buck, take the lead instead. That’s a real heroic act if you ask me, Mr. Egan.”

The words dripped with venom – John’s eyes burning with utter rage as the room acquired a deafening silence. His diaphragm moving at a rapid rate as the anger coursed through his body – his fist balled together as he resisted the temptation to start swinging.

I struck a nerve – Gale’s death was the nail that was hammered into John’s figurative coffin on the daily. The thoughts of seeing his friend being shot down – only following his commands to go over the wall to a hopeful escape. Seeing Gale’s lifeless body lying on the snow-covered ground as blood seeped from the open wounds – John deserved to see that every time he closed his eyes.

“I never claimed to be a fucking hero, Lina.” His voice thick with emotion.

I rolled my eyes at the mention of the nickname he had given me. Crossing my arms in a defensive motion as he stepped close to where I sat.

His knees cracking as he crouched down, his blues level with mine.

“You think hiding behind this hateful wall is gonna make you feel better? Sayin hateful things to the people who are just trying to help you?”

My eyes narrowed.

“Get off your high horse, little girl. Your husband was my best friend – the only person that kept me going during those God-awful days at that fucking camp. You think you’re the only one hurting – honey, you don’t even know the half of it.”

Our faces were centimeters away – his eyes searching mine for a reaction.

Kicking my leg out as I stood, I bumped purposely into his body as I retreated to the front entrance. His bags still sitting by the door – no reason at all why they should even be in the house to begin with.

Taking each case in my hands, kicking open the screen door, I haphazardly tossed them into the muddy yard – a smile forming as they landed with a splash in the dirty water.

The thunderous sound of his footsteps met my ears, his jaw slacked at the sight of his things lying in the yard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I couldn’t help but laugh, watching as he raced down the steps, pulling the leather out of the puddle, water dripping as he held it away from himself.

It was the first time I had laughed since the news of Gale’s death – coming at the misery and expense of John Egan.

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oskea93 · 28 days

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✶ Whiskey (1) ✶ - John "Bucky" Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ This story will contain explicit sexual content, mentions of unwanted pregnancy/miscarriage, cursing, violence, spousal abuse. Please read at your own discretion/risk. This story is a work of fiction and simply based on the portrayal of the actors on the show. It has nothing to do with any of the real men that these actors are playing. A/N: Hello all! So, this is my second Bucky story and to say i'm a bit obsessed would be an understatement. There's just something about the way Callum Turner plays him that is... I don't even know if I have the right word to describe it. I posted a couple days ago about my idea for this fic and i've finally narrowed down my choice The OC for this story will be the new Colonel's wife at Thorp Abbotts and of course drama will ensue. I just want to point out that since this story is so heavily smut driven, i'm sorry if my writing of smut is not that great. I've never written a fic so centered on it before, so this is a bit new. If you have any suggestions or comments, just let me know! Lastly, I just want to thank everyone that's read It Had to be You. I greatly appreciate each and every one of you! If you would like to be added to the tag list, just comment your username ☺︎

Heavy breathing filled the darkened space as the distant sound of the bombs could be heard exploding on the outskirts of town. Both of us too lost in one another to care of the threat that could be dropped onto the city at any minute.

His arms wrapped tightly around my thighs, holding me down on the bed as his tongue lit a fire through my body. The whimpers slipping past my lips – begging him for mercy – our eyes meeting as he flattened his tongue against my core. My hands pulling at his messy locks, pulling as the pressure intensified as he sucked my clit.

“Oh, fuck – “ I tried pulling away – my heels digging into the mattress below.

The pleasure was something I had never felt before – my heart beating erratically as he smiled at the state I was in. “John, please.” My legs closing around his head as my walls clenched, sending me into a state of pure bliss.

My dam quickly opened, the floodgates soaking the linen sheet below as he stayed in the same position admiring his work. His hold on my legs loosened, giving me the opportunity to quickly move into a sitting position, pulling his lips onto mine. My taste on his tongue sending me into a primal state as he pulled me into his lap, the pressure building in my stomach as I take all of him, moans building in both of our throats.

“Holy fuck – “ He cursed against my lips as our hips moved in sync. The new position sending us both into an utter state of delectation.

Bruises were sure to form as his fingers dug into my hips, pulling my body harder into his as I felt him swell inside of me. His hot breath hitting my ear as my teeth pulled at his neck, no doubt to leave a noticeable mark in the morning. The friction between us was so strong as we started to reach our climax – our ragged breathing and moans probably heard through the thin walls.

My body fell limp against his as we recovered from our high – his soft lips placing butterfly kisses behind my ear.

“Pretty good, huh?” He smirked against the skin – taking my earlobe between his teeth.

I whimpered in reply – too tired but still too turned on to speak to him in a complete sentence. Talking was what got me into this position – into his rented bed – into his arms and underneath his masculine body as he made me his own...

I was the first to wake the next afternoon – my legs acting like that of a newborn fawn as I stumbled towards the bathroom. I glanced at the mangled bed as I closed the door behind me – his body barely covered by the thin sheet. “Lord, give me strength.” Whispering to myself as I looked in the mirror. My red curls in disarray – red lipstick smeared around my bruised lips. The markings he had left littered my body – small and large – thankfully low enough to be covered from the public eye. The memories of last night replaying in my mind like an old Nickelodeon – heat pooling in my stomach at the thoughts of how he made me feel – over and over – all night long.

My fingers gripping the sink as the feeling of his lips danced across my skin. His teeth pulling as he moved along my shoulder blades – his arms wrapping around my middle.

“You’re thinking too hard.” His morning voice hinting at a rasp, causing my core to throb with want and need.

The temptation to reach back and connect my lips with his was damn near impossible – my knuckles turning white as my grip on the cast-iron intensified.

“I have to go.”

The words slipping out between low moans. His hold pulling me flush against his bare body – his cock twitching against my lower back. I knew that if I turned around in that moment, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from him – from his kiss – from his Goddamn touch.

His nose nuzzled in my hair as his hand moved tantalizingly down my stomach, stopping just above the point of no return. “And if I want you to stay?”

I squirmed uncomfortably, rubbing my legs together, already wet just from his proximity.

“If you tell me to stop –“His index slowly moving over my slit. “I’ll quit and you can go on your merry way.” I leaned my head back against his shoulder as he added the middle finger, making slow strides as he hummed against my outstretched neck.

“You’re killing me.” My words slurring together.

He smiled against my skin as his pace increased. A slew of curse words flowed through my lips, his own finally meeting mine in a heated and much needed kiss. My arm laced around his neck, pressing our faces harder together as his fingers continued their assault. I felt like I was on the verge of fainting – dropping dead from the euphoria that was coursing through my exhausted body.

My body reacted to his touch seconds later – the sticky substance running down my legs as he removed his digits. Our bodies still pressed together – both breathing as if we’d just ran a mile.

“John – “

His hooded eyes casting down as he hummed in response. I paused for a moment, my brain and heart arguing for dominance.

“Take me to bed.”

#john egan #john egan smut #callum turner major john bucky egan #john egan x reader #john egan fanfiction #john egan x oc #callum turner x reader #callum turner smut #callum turner imagine #callum turner #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air #masters of the air imagine #bucky egan x oc #bucky egan #john bucky egan #bucky egan fanfiction #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan smut

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oskea93 · 30 days

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The burnin, the sting, the high and the heat and the left-me wanting-more feeling when he kissed me. I shoulda just called him

✶Whisky✶

John "Bucky" Egan x OC Song inspiration Coming soon

#john egan fanfiction #callum turner major john bucky egan #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #john egan #callum turner x oc #callum turner x reader #callum turner smut #callum turner imagine #callum turner #john egan smut #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air

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oskea93 · 1 month

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So…. I like everyone else has become obsessed with Callum Turner and his portrayal as John Egan 🥵

With that being said, I have another fic idea floating around in my mind. It’s gonna be very salacious and down right smutty at times. The main character will be the wife of the new Colonel that has arrived at the base OR main character is the wife of the Colonel at the POW camp the guys are at. Only thing is that she’s already met Bucky during his weekend pass in London 👀

I know that’s probably a horrible first description, but I’ll iron it out more in the coming days and choose which plot I could have more fun with. Would this be something y’all are interested in reading? Let me know in the comments ❤️

#john egan fanfiction #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #John #callum turner major john bucky egan #callum turner x oc #callum turner x fanfiction #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #callum turner smut #callum turner #john egan #masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #mota #mota fanfic

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oskea93 · 1 month

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✦ It Had to be You: One ✦

John "Bucky" Egan x OC Gale "Buck Cleven x OC

● If you would like to be tagged, just comment below ●

⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆⍆

Black had become a staple in my wardrobe.

I used to despise the dark color – opting for more cheerful tones or floral patterns. I didn’t want to walk around looking like a depressive cloud – someone in constant mourning. I didn’t even own a black dress until I got the news – my mother making the journey to the store to buy one. I couldn’t bear to leave the house – not wanting the sympathetic glances of those in town that had learned the news. I can’t even begin to tell you how many letters I had received, those that knew Gale and even from those that didn’t. Each letter praised his heroic actions – thanking him in black ink for his level of service and dedication to the United States. Even received one from President Truman and the men of Washington D.C.

I used to look at women who had received the devastating news with such sorrow and sadness. Wonder how they would survive without their men - their source of comfort and love. I was certain that it would be very difficult to do so – have to learn to fend for yourself and go on without the man you loved. I didn’t realize that I would be in the same boat years later. I was a simple housewife – barely of age when we married. Gale and I were just two kids – two kids that were madly and deeply in love with each other. I had grown up more privileged than Gale or those that we knew. I didn’t know how to clean a house properly or cook a hearty meal that would fill the bellies of my husband and future children. I’ve always had someone do those things for me – my mother more focused on raising a proper lady. If you needed to know which fork went where, I was the girl to ask, but I couldn’t tell you anything domestic. I wanted to be able to learn all those things while he was away – making sure that when he returned home for good, I would be able to care for him like a wife should.

I had met Gale at a dance the local hall was putting on – a sendoff to some of the troops that lived in the area. He had just enlisted– saying that he was a week away from going to boot camp. He was cool as a cucumber – no evidence of fear etched on his beautiful face. He spoke of wanting to fight the good fight – getting up in the air and showing Germany the trouble they were in for. He was a born fighter – a genius when it came to life. We spent most of the night as close as two people could be while sitting upright- both speaking of our life and our dreams. Not to sound cliché but I was smitten as soon as I saw him. His blonde hair was slightly disheveled – his wool trousers fitting his frame nicely. His smile could light up a room – that deep voice causing my insides to quiver with a need that only he could give me.

I longed for him during those weeks he was away – smiling as I read his letters that would come bi-weekly. I could hear his voice as I read the words on paper – the excitement of finally flying and the annoyance he felt towards his roommate. The one true constant that popped up on each letter was the mention of his co-captain. His name was John Egan – Bucky – the nickname he had been given. Gale spoke highly of the man – praising him and saying that he couldn’t wait for us to meet. Gale was soft spoken – a bit reserved – he wasn’t into sports or gambling. He liked to sit outside the house and just listen to the sounds of nature. John Egan was the opposite that Gale needed in his life. He helped Gale open up and Gale helped John stay out of trouble...

Gale finally returned to me after weeks away – our reunion being one spent giving ourselves to one another. We were both virgins but the time away from one another ignited a feeling in both of us that we couldn’t suppress. He asked me to marry him a month after his return – wanting to get married sooner rather than later seeing as the war was ramping up. John Egan stood by Gale’s side as we exchanged vowels – his blue eyes shining bright as he watched us become husband and wife. He was the life of the party at our reception – singing along with the band as those around us danced to the music. I could see why Gale adored him so, but I was still weary.

That feeling came to a head when John convinced Gale that it was time for him to head over to England and join the ranks. He wrote to him about the fun he was having and all the missions they were accomplishing. He made it sound like a thrill ride – something that didn’t involve the chance of dying at any moment. Gale and I spent our last night together – wrapped up in each other – exploring and branding kisses into skin – almost as if we were creating a permanent road map to remember one another. It was the most sensual night we’ve had – that we would ever have.

The movie reel played on repeat in my head as I could still feel his lips on mine as he kissed me goodbye. Tears in both of our eyes as the sound of the car’s engine faded into the distance.

“I’m coming back to you – hell or high water – I will be back.”

He kept waving until his car was out of sight – my knees buckling – my body falling into grass below. A part of my heart left that Spring Day…

I received his first official letter a couple weeks later – screaming out in joy as I read his chicken scratch penmanship. He spoke of the area they were located – how it felt flying in – the fresh air that surrounded the base. He gushed about the new friends he had made –describing them as if he had known them for years. The most important was how much he missed and loved me – repeating the same words as above – hell or high water.

No letter from Gale would be complete without a mention of John Egan. Gale wrote of how John had taken him under his wing, but also being John’s protector. He wrote of how he’s stopped him from getting into several scuffles with the British soldiers or the townspeople. His writings detailing how much they truly cared for one another – they were like brothers.

As time progressed, his writings became darker – tragic even. He detailed his first mission in graphic detail – expressing his feelings and the slight betrayal that he felt towards Egan. He watched men he had befriended either die in the air in a fiery explosion or pass as they laid on the stretcher in the makeshift hospital on the base. He never wrote of his fear that I’m sure he had – choosing to stay strong and do everything he could for his squadron. He was the main pilot – he had the lives of nine other men to think about – he wanted them to be able to return home safely even if that meant he was the sacrificial lamb...

The last letter that would arrive on time came through the mail on October 10th, 1943. It was shorter than normal, Gale explaining that he was moments away from an important mission. He must’ve written “I love you” about a dozen times before signing off – xo following his name. I had learned about a week later that his plane had went down somewhere outside of Germany. The news articles praised their efforts – telling of how they put a damper into the German’s artillery. That was all well and good, but my husband was missing – the base having no record of his whereabouts or if he was still alive.

Months passed before a battered letter was placed inside the mail slot. The enveloped looked as if it had gone through hell, but Gale’s handwriting could be seen through the grime. He had been placed in a camp for captured soldiers. Many of the men that he had met at the base were there as well. He hadn’t been injured – keeping quiet and under the radar of the German soldiers. I fell to the floor after reading that letter – my heart shattering at the thoughts of what might happen. Tears fell on the paper as I replied – simply begging him to come back to me…

“Sweetheart?” I looked up from the mattress as my mother entered the room. “It’s nearing one in the afternoon, darling.” She threw open the curtains – the bright sunlight beaming into the once darkened room. “You need to get yourself together and get dressed.”

My mother had never seen me in such a state – not even recognizing the person I had become. Long gone was the smile and laughter – replaced by tears and screams of anger. I was angry at everyone – my parents, my friends, God.

Oh, I was especially mad at God.

Countless times I would ask why Gale – why was it his turn to be taken? Was he needed for greater things? Why wasn’t I granted more time with him? Just why?

Growing up in the church, it was frowned upon to ask why for anything, more so for why God chose those that he did. You never asked why – you just learned to accept the outcome. I was long past that – I wanted an answer – I demanded a Goddamn answer.

Sighing, I slowly moved to a sitting position as she laid the black dress and heels next to me. My eyes boring holes into the clothing – hoping that with another energy they would magically combust into flames, burning me alive with them. “I’ll do your hair when you get out of the bath.”

Our eyes connected, “I’m not taking a bath.”

Mother let out an exhausted sigh as her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. I watched as she walked to the window, her upper body jerking slightly as she wiped away the tears that started to fall. She never liked anyone to see her cry.

I started to speak, stopping before the first syllable could come out. I wanted to tell her not to cry but I didn’t have that right. She loved Gale too – she had been smitten by him from the get-go. We all held out hope that he would return to us – just not in a flag draped pine box.

A soft knock on the bedroom door caught both of our attention as my dad entered the room. His once bright face was downcast as he took in my appearance. “The car will be here soon, darling.” His voice soft as he exchanged glances with my mother.

The reality that I was an hour away from burying my only love hadn’t set in yet – just fog – fog that felt like it would never lift to clear skies. I fisted the black material, stepping over the kitten heels as I trudged towards the bathroom. The figure in the mirror was a stranger – someone who’s been through more things than a human is supposed to. Dark circles and pale skin stared back at me – my hair in a tangled mess – not even a comb could get through at this point. Gaunt would be the best word to describe this version of Carolina. I hadn’t bathed in several days – to numb to even remove myself from the bed at times. I barely made it to the bathroom to relieve myself, almost just wanting to go on myself so I wouldn’t have to get up.

Looking around, I noticed everything laid out by my mother. Toothbrush, toothpaste, the expensive makeup that I had collected over the years sitting on the vanity. I was supposed to look put together – still grieving – but have the attributes of a Hollywood starlet.

A guttural scream roared through my body as the vanity contents crashed to the floor – the glass bottles of perfume shattering as the liquid splashed in the air. I could feel the glass stabbing into my bare feet, the blood mixing with the perfume on the floor. I didn’t even register that my father had burst into the room until his arm wrapped around my waist, my back hitting his tailored chest. I thrashed against his hold like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

“Carolina, please!” My mother bawled as she took in my state. “Please, darling calm down before you hurt yourself!”

Another voice was added to the chaos – a deeper voice than that of my father. He was dressed in a black suit – his tall figure looming over my parents. His hands replaced my father’s – his grip on my waist tight and firm. “Calm down, Lina.” His hot breath hitting my ear as the world started to spin around me. My body was running on fumes – the last of those turning into smoke as my brain finally had enough, shutting down before any more damage could be done.

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oskea93 · 1 month

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All The Things I Did (5): I Hope I Don't Lose You

a/n: THE SEXUAL TENSION IS PARTIALLY BROKEN. let us all rejoice! light smut ahead but so worth it for these two to finally make each other cum, okay? this should mean inbox is open for sexy times discussions. i promise cass will let john love her soon, she is just scared, ok? they have their first fight but we will survive. standing by to chat//accept blurbs and asks and prompts. love you guys xoxo

warnings: smut

Cass was at a table in the corner of the social club when John and Curt entered. She had skipped out on interrogation, more curious about the envelope Mary had said had come for her marked as urgent from Washington. In it was the identity of the new Commanding Officer for the 100th Bomber Group, slated to arrive the next day. It was none other than Colonel Chick Harding.

She had met Chick Harding in London on her way to Thorpe Abbotts. Her first test as a field officer was to conduct a suitability assessment of a RAF officer one of her colleagues at the embassy was hoping to turn into a source. Cass had been making great progress, her nerves fading the longer she realized she was good at this, when Colonel Harding had made his presence known.

Since she was a teenager, Cass was used to men of all ages flirting with her. Remarking on her dress or her hair or her smile. It always made her feel icky but her older sister told her it was the price for being pretty. Harding had flirted with her, hadn’t tried to hide it, but it was different. Not forceful. Not relentless. Not like he was trying to use his rank to convince her of a certain outcome. After the circumstances under which she had left South Carolina, the attention had been welcome. Reminded her she wasn’t soiled goods. She knew it couldn’t be more than that and was on her way to her flat for the night when the Colonel had slipped a piece of paper into her hand. It made her laugh, the instructions on where she would be able to find him after the party. She hadn’t used them but they had made her feel giddy. And now it looked like Colonel Harding was set to become a more permanent presence in her life.

“You’re looking particularly pensive tonight.” She looked up from the packet at the sound of John’s voice, a glass bottle of Coke placed in front of her and two rocks glasses of whiskey placed across from her.

“Huglin’s been relieved of his command. Just reading some background on the new Colonel.” He pressed a thumb to the crease between her eyebrows to smooth it out.

“No talk of work,” he muttered as he leaned in for a kiss. She obliged him gently and let him pull her off the chair. “You know I love this song.”

“You love every song,” she giggled as he led her into a spin. He caught her against his chest and shared in her laugh.

“With you as my partner, how couldn’t I?” Their lips met halfway and he lifted her slightly to save the strain of going on her tippy toes. “I always ask you to dance but somehow we always get distracted from the actual dancing.”

“I’ve been told I have that effect on people. Handsome men in particular.”

“Ah, you talk to a lot of handsome men recently?” He dropped her into a dip playfully.

“I’m surrounded by them but one in particular…one in particular has caught my eye.” Her forehead rested against the side of the neck as he pulled her back up.

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever met. Has this little curl that falls onto his forehead that drives me crazy. Says things he means and makes me feel…,” she swallowed thickly and John nodded. He was giving her permission to say it. Validating that it was true. “Loved.” The sound of the band and the bartender pouring drinks and the white noise of conversation faded into the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

“Cass,” he started, ready to say those three words. Once and for all get them off his chest and into the atmosphere. Relieve himself of the burden of knowledge and hopefully accept hers in return.

“Not yet.” He froze and took a step back at her words. “I know you tried the other night and I just opened the door again but not yet.” Not when the other paper in that folder had said what they had. That she was selected for an operation into Berlin. An operation that had been unsuccessful three previous times. An operation where the last agent had come home draped in an American flag.

“Right. You say all those things and I’m just supposed to keep suffocating on my own words.” He backed away from her, Cass not used to this sense of dread in her chest. “You know, emotions aren’t inherently dangerous. You’re allowed to have them, Lieutenant.” She almost recoiled from the use of her rank. He downed his two previous glasses with ease and moved towards the bar to refill them.

“John, it’s for good reason. Trust me,” she pleaded as she reached for his arm.

“I’m sure it’s too classified for someone like me. I’m not worth the risk, right?”

“What? I’ve brought you in as much as I could! Shared everything with you-” One more glass of whiskey went down his throat. “You were the one I asked for when I got off that plane. The one I reached for because I knew you would make me feel safe.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with anger. Another whiskey as he clenched his fist at the memory.

“That feeling I had running towards you. That feeling I had when that son of a bitch got in the way of reaching you.” He brought her hand to rest flat against his chest. “The way I felt when you told me I was yours. That is what is trapped in here, Cass. That is what you aren’t letting me express to you.”

“If you do, and something happens to me, I’ll never forgive myself.” John was Air Exec. He’d be safe on the ground, in a control tower, locked away in an office to wait out this war. He had an after. Cass wasn’t so sure she was guaranteed the same.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I got my next field assignment.” She didn’t elaborate any further but he thinks he was reading the implications behind her eyes.

“When do you leave?” he relented. He regretted spending even a second angry with her now. Regretted being the cause of her tears. Wanted to spend the rest of the night apologizing.

“Soon. They are sending me with a partner for this one, waiting for his arrival.” Cass hugged her arms around herself. She felt cold. Something missing between her and John that had been there earlier in the night. A distance between them she wasn’t used to and didn’t like.

“You going to say goodbye this time?” His fingers twitched to reach out and touch her but it felt wrong. Like the tether between them had snapped and needed more than the setting had to offer to fix it.

“Never goodbye. A see you soon.” John looked up at the ceiling with a pitiful laugh.

“Fuck, Cass, what are we going to do? A flyboy and a spook. We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“I vaguely remember asking if you were a hotshot the first time I met you.”

“Only one of us has ended up in the medical wing.” Cass snorted and looked away from his analytical gaze. “I’m sorry.” There was a lot left unsaid but it was a start. She opened her mouth to respond when Curt’s voice echoed across the bar.

“Bucky! Round on me, let’s go!”

“I’ll be over in a minute!” He wanted to fix things first. Get back to where they were at the beginning of the night.

“Go. I’ll catch up with you later.” She was reminded that the 100th had lost more than a few men that day and they were there to mourn them in the first place.

“You sure?” She nodded, John leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. Cass gripped his chin before he could pull away.

“Kiss me properly, Major.” He grinned wickedly, his heart returning to it’s normal rhythm, surging forward to oblige her request. It was hungry and all consuming, frantic and frenzied. John pushed her hair over her shoulder to get a better grip around her cheek and groaned as her hands slid up the front of his chest with a deliberately slow pace. They only separated when the whistles pierced through the veil, John going back in for one, two, three more pecks to her lips before he fully pulled away.

“Does that work?” Her lip slipped between her teeth and she nodded.

“Until later.” His knuckles brushed against her cheek longingly before he disappeared to the other end of the bar with his men. Cass grabbed her folder from the table and disappeared out the back door, ready to retire for the night. A couple hours of sleep would do her and emotionless heart some good.

----

She woke before the sun, the look in John’s eyes seared into her memory. Maybe it wasn’t worth trying to stop him from saying he loved her anymore. Maybe her worry about breaking his heart was misplaced. Cass thinks he would be strong enough to handle it. The longer he was out here, the better he would get at compartmentalizing his emotions. The losses for the 100th had only just begun. She didn’t know how she was supposed to watch him wear them.

Cass needed some fucking air. Hopeful the cold would shock her back into her usual, even keeled self, she slipped her silk robe over her nightgown and stuck her feet into her boots before finding her way outside. She wasn’t surprised to hear voices, assuming Lemmons and his men were up early to work on the planes, but she recognized them with a furrowed brow as she got closer and two figures on top of the plane came into focus. Clearly it had ended up being more than one round.

“Do you feel anything?” That was John. He was holding a bottle of whiskey and his uniform jacket was billowing in the breeze.

“Yeah, I miss those guys,” Curt responded.

“I don’t feel a thing anymore. Unless I’m with Spook.” He smiled wistfully. “With her, I feel everything.”

“She’s good for you. She’s keeping you sane out here.”

“Driving me insane more like it.” He needed to snap out of it. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“I want you to hit me. I want you to land one right on my beak.” She considered stepping in but was curious to see this play out.

“Major-”

“Don’t give me ‘Major.’” He threw his jacket to the ground. “Ranks off.”

“Stop horsing around.”

“Horsing around? I’m not a horse.” Cass watched him goad and goad Curt until his fist snapped forward and John’s hands flew to his nose.

“Bet you felt that.” She emerged from her hiding spot behind the tail of the plane and John smiled.

“Lieutenant Cooper, can I trust him in your hands for the rest of the night?” Curt hopped down from the wing as she nodded. A kiss on his cheek as a thank you and he was off to try and catch a few moments of sleep.

“Baby, come up here.” He moved to the edge and gripped under her arms, lifting her onto the wing of the plane with an ease that had her feeling warm in the cool early morning air. “What’re you doing out here?” John nuzzled his nose against hers lovingly. It had only been a few hours but he had missed her.

“Going for a walk when I heard a couple of hooligans and decided to check it out in spite of my best judgment.”

“This hooligan never got the chance to properly apologize to you earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Her hands rested against his chest and she looked up at him with adoration. “I shouldn’t have shut you down. Losing you scares me more than I know how to say and I’m not used to being scared.” Or used to being in love for that matter.

“My little Spook,” he traced his thumb along her bottom lip, “you don’t have to have your armor up around me.”

“I’m working on it. Just have to be patient with me.” Cass welcomed his kiss and recognized the pleasant ache that was settling between her legs. This man was making her feel things no other had in more ways than one.

“You take all the time you need. I’ll be here.” Call it the effects of alcohol or lack of sleep but John was feeling weightless. Like if he didn’t have her right then and there, he’d float away. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Testing the waters, she undid the knot of his tie. He watched in a daze as his mind tried to catch up with what he thinks she was asking. She tossed it in the same direction he had thrown his jacket.

“John,” she cooed as his mouth watered at her robe slipping off one of her shoulders. “I need you.”

“Tell me where you need me.” Her frustrated groan was swallowed by his kiss, his hands slipping from the small of her back to grab at her ass, his lips moving to latch onto her neck with the goal of leaving a mark.

“Need you everywhere,” she gasped as his tongue soothed over the blossoming accessory he had added to her throat. Cass moved his hand to the hem of her night gown and guided it up and up until his fingertips met her hip bones. He moaned into her kiss as his fingertips teased along the top band of her underwear, tracing down the front of them until he found the spot that made her hips buck.

“Ah, right there?” John removed his hand and caught her as she collapsed into his chest. “I’m going to take care of you, baby, promise. Just not out here.” He jumped down from the wing, reaching to lift her down after him. As soon as her feet hit the ground, her lips were back on his and her fingers were undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“When I said be patient with me I didn’t mean at a glacial pace,” she quipped. He laughed, one thumb stroking over her pulse point in her neck and the other hand pushing her robe off her arms the rest of the way.

“You know how to climb into a B-17 or do you need a hand?”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I need your hand.” She stepped towards the open hatch and gripped the edge before tucking her feet in line with her head and landing in the hull. John can’t deny he got a little harder at the sight. He followed suit and welcomed her into his lap with no reservations now that they were away from any potential prying eyes.

“A dream come fucking true,” he whispered as she stradled him and he got a good look at her. Chest flushed. Hair wild. Nightgown strap slipping down her arm. John hooked a finger under it and slowly helped it the rest of the way, goosebumps sparking on her breasts as they were exposed to his gaze. “Beautiful.” His lips latched around one nipple, her breath catching and back arching to press further into his touch.

“That feels good.” Her voice had an edge to it that drove him wild. His tongue was soft as it lavished against her and her blood rushed between her legs at the thought of what it would feel like there. Where she needed him the most. John hummed as they popped out of his mouth like a lollipop.

“Been dreaming about having you like this,” he whispered as she nipped at his bottom lip. “Dreaming about what was under that lace in your office that day. About the sounds you make when I kiss you…right…here,” his lips attaching to the spot on her throat in question and the moans that gave him a reason to live were music to his ears. And he hadn’t even gotten her sleepwear off yet.

“What else have we been doing in your dreams?” she asked as they kissed languidly. John pressed forward until she was laid gently on her back and her knees fell to the side to accommodate him. He shrugged off his button up and lifted his undershirt over his head, Cass sitting up to kiss across his chest before using his dog tags to pull him back down with her.

“Going to take more than one night to show you.”

“Good,” she smiled sweetly in direct contrast to the sinful state she was in, “I was hoping to keep you around for a little while.” He started at her lips and worked his way down to gently tug her nipples with his teeth before bunching her nightgown at her waist and settling where he had left off on the wing of the plane.

“You always sleep in these delicate, little things?” Of course John had thought about ravishing her. Thought about what she would look like in a thin, silk nightgown in the moonlight. Thought about what might be underneath it. If anything.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He would. Desperately. But he settled for kissing the skin where it met the lace, Cass squirming at the affection. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he asked without looking up. The tip of his nose found the spot from earlier, a smirk lighting his face.

“Fuck, John, yes. Yes, I always dress up for bed.” There was something domestic about the notion that tickled a satisfying corner of his soul. He liked learning the nooks and crannies of her. Liked the idea of getting to know her routines and habits. Of learning how to merge their lives together.

“I like that. Easy to see how wet you are.” John pressed his thumb to the front of her panties and circled slowly and gently. “Look at me.” Cass propped herself onto her elbows and reached to push the curl that had fallen onto his forehead back into its place.

“I’m looking and I like what I see.” Flushed and drunk on love, John Egan looked like he was exactly where he belonged. He pressed harder with a cheshire cat grin as her head dropped back.

“I like what I see too, gorgeous.” The lace slid down her legs slowly and his lips followed down, the undergarment over his shoulder and forgotten, then back up so no inch of her skin was left untouched.

“John Egan, an attentive lover,” she teased.

“Only for you.” Only for the girl he was in love with. Thinks he loved her the moment he saw her. Knew he would love her forever. “Are you going to behave?”

“Not if you make me wait-” Her words faded into a sigh as he finally flicked his tongue against her. His hands hooked over her thighs, he spread her open as he coaxed sounds of heaven from her mouth and a sensual writhing of her hips.

“Taste like a fucking goddess,” he groaned, dipping a finger into her as her breaths came quicker.

“John.” God, he could fucking die at the sound of his name coming out of her mouth like that. A second finger. “Fuck.”

“You going to cum for me?” He rested his cheek against her thigh and admired the view. He wanted to sear this moment into his memory. The moment he saw her with no walls. Completely vulnerable. Trusting him with seeing her like this. This version of her was the one he was fighting for. The one he would die for.

“Only for you,” she said, echoing his earlier statement. Promising he was the only one who would be with her in this way. Promising a forever of nights like this. John understood the sentiment as it settled in his chest.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” he cooed before his lips closed around her clit and pushed her over the edge. His hands pressed down on her hips to keep her from escaping his mouth as she came with a call of his name and a tug of his hair. She shivered as he kissed the insider of her thigh, between her breasts and onto her lips. “Did so good, baby.”

“Who would’ve thought. A flyboy and a spook.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as her hand moved towards his belt buckle, his hand on her wrist stopping her.

“Who said I was done with you?” And if Cass called his name into the night a few more times before the sun rose, that was between them and the moon. And if John learned her tongue could charm a sinful symphony from his lips, that was between them and the stars. And if Ken Lemmons stumbled upon their discarded clothes and folded them neatly by the wheel while they slept in each other’s arms, only the sun and the clouds needed to know. And if John woke before her and held her tighter and kissed her forehead with a promise and a prayer, a promise to protect her and love her and a prayer that he would have the opportunity to do so, well that was between him and the man upstairs. John Egan just hoped He was listening.

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oskea93 · 1 month

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✦ It Had to be You: Prequel ✦

John "Bucky" Egan x OC Gale "Buck Cleven x OC

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and not associated with the real people mentioned from the show. This is simply based on the portrayals of the actors playing these characters. Warning: Mentions of war, cursing, sexual contact, depressive episodes, verbal and emotional abuse, drinking, etc. This fic will deal with heavy situations about war, grief, and everything in between. Please be advised when reading.

● Taglist available ●

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“I promised him that I would watch over you – take fucking care of you – love you.”

Tears were streaming down both of our faces as night’s warm wind swirled around our angry bodies. The summer heat wasn’t the only thing on the verge of tipping past the point of return. Our animosity towards one another had been building long before the devastating news. He was my husband’s best friend – his partner in crime when it came to flying those God forsaken planes. They had met during training – an instant connection forming between the two as soon as they met. He would write to me, telling of his new friend, and all the mischievous adventures they had while learning to fly.

We had first met one another at one of the gatherings the school was putting on for the families. I could understand why my husband enjoyed his company so much – he was funny, charming, and the look in his blue eyes told me he was nothing but trouble. He spent most of the night at our table, his family leaving early in the evening. I would watch as the two spoke like they had known each other their whole lives – laughing and cracking jokes. If he was a woman, I think Gale would’ve left me and ran off with him.

John “Bucky” Egan was a thorn in my side after that initial meeting. I loved Gale dearly – giving myself to only him and vowing to stay by his side for eternity. There was just something about John that caused an unsettling pit in my stomach. His subtle actions or the way his blue eyes would just stare right through you made my stomach erupt like Mount Vesuvius. He was the best man at our wedding – standing tall by Gale’s side as we committed ourselves to one another.

Gale and I both knew that his time would come when the call to action would ring it’s awful sound, but John was the one who pressed Gale to leave earlier than expected. John would make it sound like it was just a big game – bringing down the enemy and having those around the US cheer for your brave and talented action. He didn’t mention the fact that at any second you would become a telegraph being hand delivered by the War Department – No, Bucky never uttered those words.

#masters of the air #gale cleven #bucky egan #john egan #buck cleven #mota #austin butler #callum turner #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler major gale buck cleven #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut #callum turner major john bucky egan #fanfiction #callum turner imagine #callum turner smut #bucky egan x oc #bucky egan fanfiction #buck cleven x oc

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oskea93 · 1 month

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Hello!

So, I know i've been a little lackluster when it comes to updating Fire Away, and I do apologize for that. I just wanted to come on here and let you all know that Fire Away will be on a temporary hold. I'm thinking about rewriting a few parts since I didn't initially want the story to go in the direction that it's in at this point in the game. I wanted to hold off on a few things for a little longer, but I went into hyper-overdrive and just started writing it. I promise that the story will continue and we will find out what happens to dear Vanessa and Caius. I just want to make sure it's up to the highest standards and that you all are getting everything you want from the story.

As for Keep it to Yourself, I am still in the process of writing that fic. It's a little on the slower side but I have about half of the next chapter finished, so hopefully an update will be soon.

One other thing... I'm in the process of writing another story... I've fallen in love with Masters of the Air, especially Austin Butler and Callum Turner's characters.... So - if you're interested in that type of story, be on the look out!

The most important fact is that you guys are amazing and I appreciate all the love you give the stories I write. You have no idea how much love I have for you all. You guys are the greatest ♥︎

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oskea93 · 2 months

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✶ Where the Wild Things Are: One ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Taglist: @oskea93, @keyweegirlie

I stared at the clock – the hands slowly moving as my packed suitcase sat below my bed.

The thought of leaving the ruling and hard hand of my father had been a pipedream of mine for a while. There were days when I convinced myself that today was the day. I was just gonna walk right out of the house – bidding my parents a big fuck you as I ventured into the new world. I always managed to talk myself out of it after an hour – too afraid of what my father would do to stop me. Before tonight, I never even had a bag packed or a plan for that matter.

“I had to hear from Fred Hastings that he saw you and Wilson Grady fornicating in the back alley of his hardware store. Do you know how embarrassed your mother and I are to have people know that our daughter – our only daughter – is nothing but a cheap whore?”

I winced as he roughly grabbed onto my arms, shaking my upper body in rage as my mother just sat back and watched. The belt that he had used so often was wrapped around his hand, the buckle dangling as he shook.

“You are nothing but a piece of trash – a cheap whore that will open her legs to any man on the streets.” I sniffed back tears, my red hair sticking to my face as it became wet. He roughly pushed me to the ground, standing over me with a look of disgust etched on his aging face.

I attempted to get up, only to be stopped by his heavy foot on my abdomen. “Don’t even think about getting up, whore.” I glanced over at my mother hoping that she would make him throw in the towel. Her dead eyes met mine, looking away quickly as father’s heavy hand made contact with my thigh.

The leather material of the belt hurt like hell, but he had moved past using that. His favorite – at least for me – was the buckle. I can’t begin to tell you how many scars I have on my upper thighs and bottom from the contact of the metal meeting my thin skin.

Blow after blow – derogatory words spewing from his mouth like venom with each strike. My older brother, Brian was finally the one to step in – telling our father that I’ve had enough. Brian didn’t bother helping me up or making sure I was okay, too afraid of father himself.

Out of breath, father’s eyes connected with mine. “You think this time was bad-“His face mere inches from mine. “If I even hear that you’ve looked at another boy – I will make sure you won’t see the light of day ever again.”

I must’ve laid there for 30 minutes before slowly walking back to my bedroom. The sun had set by this time – meaning that it was almost bedtime for Roy and Brenda. Father made it a rule that it was lights out at sunset – the mind and body needed at least 7-8 hours of rest. Plus, his famous words were that nothing good happens after sunset.

Without giving it a second thought, I just started to pack.

I kept the lights off, giving off the appearance that I was sleeping in bed. I just grabbed whatever I had, stuffing it into the large suitcase. I knew that I would have to leave most of my possessions – items that I had collected since childhood. My father would more than likely just throw everything in the fire since he’s already said it was all a waste of money…

The big hand hovered over the 12 as I quietly gathered the case. I held my shoes in my hands as I took one last look at my childhood room. The pink walls dulling with age – the room holding good and bad memories. Tears welled in my eyes as I walked away, tiptoeing past my parents’ bedroom door. The house was silent – the only noise coming from the clocks on the walls. For once, the steps that led downstairs didn’t creak – the energy of the house agreeing with my decision to leave for good.

Once I reached the outside air – the realization of my actions crashed down on me like a ton of bricks. There was no way I could spend another minute/hour in that house – under the rule of a father who only cared about himself. If I didn’t leave now, I would’ve found a way of leaving this world all together. I wasn’t gonna give him that satisfaction though – Roy Landry deserved to know that I was somewhere in the world living a life that he frowned upon. I wanted word to get back to him that I was running wild – enjoying life – and screwing anyone and everyone that I damn well pleased. He can take the shame and embarrassment that he said I caused the family and shove it up his uptight ass!

That would be the last time I would see my parents alive. Word came that my father died a few years after I left – a heart attack, I think. To this day, my brothers blame me for the decline of our father’s health – saying that the stress of me leaving put a strain on his heart. My mother couldn’t bear to live without my father – passing away five years later in her sleep. I remember trying to call her one day after finding out I was pregnant – a part of me thinking that she had the right to know. Before I could even ask how she was doing, she interrupted and told me to never call her again.

“Thanks for the ride.”

I exited the car, the rain relentless as it soaked through my clothes. I managed to hitch a ride from an older couple – probably feeling sorry for me as I stood on the side of the road. I had been thumbing for a ride for two days now – making it further than I thought I would. I was far enough from home that I didn’t worry about my father or brothers coming to look for me.

I looked across the road – a diner casting a glow through the weather. I hadn’t bathed in three days – the rain and humidity making my skin feel sticky and gross. I had a couple bucks from a man that picked me up yesterday – money in exchange for a quick blow job. He was your typical sleaze ball but he got me out of Arkansas so I couldn’t complain. When I left home, I didn’t have any money saved up. Roy and Brenda weren’t the type of parents to give cash for chores. I hadn’t eaten since dinner that evening, my stomach cramping from the hunger pains.

I darted across the road, stepping into the muggy building. The older men at the counter watched as I made my way to the restroom – the sink my only option for getting cleaned up. I quickly washed what I could – getting the important bits and pits – pulling off my dirty clothes and replacing them with shorts and a halter top. I pulled my red hair into a ponytail – combing out the knots that had formed from the rain. Once satisfied with my work, I stepped back into the restaurant, taking a seat in an empty booth. I ordered a cheeseburger and fries – basically scarfing it down in record time. I left what was left of my change for the elderly waitress before stepping back out into the summer rain.

I managed to flag down a semi-trailer driver who was headed to Utah with a shipment of goods. He called himself Groovy Bill – a widower from Florida. He had also fought in the war, stationed in France for two years before he was medically discharged. He walked with a limp – the injury coming from a stray bullet that shattered his femur. Groovy Bill didn’t expect anything for the ride – simply enjoying the company. During our three days together, he told me about his wife, Jane and how he met her at the American Legion before he was deployed. They got married once he returned home and started their family. Jane was developed pneumonia after routine surgery and passed away shortly after. I could tell that Bill truly loved and cared about his wife – her picture kept close to his heart.

I was kind of sad when his rig pulled into the office’s parking lot. I waited until he was completely unloaded, wanting to thank him one last time for his generosity and kindness. He didn’t have to pick me up – Hell, he didn’t have to be the kind man that I knew he could only be. In the three days that were together, I felt more of a connection to this man than I did my own father. Bill had a heart of gold and only wanted what was best for his children and people in general.

“Well –“ A sad smile spreading across his bearded face. “ I guess this is the end of the line, chickadee.”

Tears clouded my vision as my arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. The smell of bruit filled my senses as he returned the gesture.

“You take care of yourself, you hear?” I nodded my head against his plaid shirt.

We stood there silently, still embracing, before he pulled away. His tired eyes looked into mine as a fathers would. “Just because the lights are bright, and everything seems perfect- “He paused. “Doesn’t mean that there’s a rainbow at the end.” Referring to my quest to reach California. “You’re a beautiful girl and people will take advantage of that, but it’s up to you to push past the bullshit and become the woman you were born to be.”

With a kiss on top of my greasy head, Groovy Bill climbed back into his truck, driving back into the foggy, morning mist…

I would like to say the rest of my trip to reach California was a breeze, but it was more of a hurricane. Instead of an easy ride like the one I had with Bill, I was forced to give sexual favors in exchange for rides. The men that had picked me up seemed nice at first but the question of what they got in return was brought up halfway through. A blow job here – sex in the backseat there. I felt like a used rag by the time the last guy crossed the California border. He dropped me off outside a gas station once he got what he wanted, dust spinning as he tore back onto the road. It was early morning – probably close to three in the morning – and there wasn’t a soul in sight. This wasn’t our agreement – he was supposed to take me to San Francisco – telling me that’s where he was headed.

I stood under the flickering streetlamp – my heart pounding as different sounds could be heard in the distance. Mostly animals but your fear heightens when it’s pitch-black outside. I didn’t know whether to just wait it out and see if I could hitch another ride when the station opens or start walking now. It was likely impossible that someone would be on the roads this late – especially in an area such as this.

“Fuck.” I blew out a sigh, picking up my suitcase.

My sandals had broken several states back – my feet raw from working the pavement and rocky surface. I couldn’t see a foot in front of me, but I didn’t feel comfortable waiting until daylight. As I walked, the thought of if this was worth it kept popping into my mind. The people on the evening news made this look easy – full of peace and love. Granted, there was a group hitchhiking together, but even then, it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Besides Groovy Bill and the older couple who picked me up at the start of all of this, I witnessed the hold that a man could have on a woman in need. They were willing to help if they got a kickback in the end. Sex was the only thing I could offer, and I wasn’t proud of that. They got off and I got dropped off.

I lasted another 30 minutes before collapsing in a field adjacent to the highway. I couldn’t go on any further – my legs quivering underneath me. A content sigh slipped past my lips as the cool grass cushioned my aching body. Sleep had been a distant friend since my journey started – my body staying awake to stay vigilant. I was desperate for rest – even if that meant sleeping on the side of the road. My mind finally took over – my eyes fluttering shut as my body relaxed.

This wouldn’t be the last time I pass out on the side of the road.

The sky was still dark when the rumbling of engines startled me awake. I moved to a sitting position as the group of headlights drew closer – my heart beating wildly in my chest at the unknown. A part of me hoped that the dusky scene would keep me hidden – but the other hoped that they would sweep me away from the misery I had created.

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oskea93 · 2 months

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✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Prequel ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

When I look back on my life – I often wonder if I made the right choices when I was younger. I obviously got to my place in life because of what happened all those years ago in California. Hell, there were times when I didn’t even think I would make it out alive. Growing up, my parents were very strict – almost authoritarian. My father had fought for his country in WWII and my mother was your typical housewife. The picture-perfect look was what they strived for – putting my brothers and I in whatever activities they could. There were structured rules that were drilled into our heads from day one.

No elbows on the table Respect your parents and your elders Girls and woman are to bow down to menfolk and do what they’re told. Women are forbidden to wear pants or short skirts. Girls can attend secondary school but will not be allowed to attend college. Marriage, motherhood, and the act of obeying your husband is the most important role in a woman’s life.

I distinctly remember my father telling me that if I wanted to dress like a whore, I can plant myself on the side of the highway and start making a living for myself. I spent most of my childhood bowing down to everything my father said. He instilled that fear in me as a young girl – always being on the back end of his belt or switch if I was “bad” enough. I was the only daughter – I needed to be picture perfect and like a doll. My mother would stand idly by as he inflicted his abuse on me – only doing so because he loved and cared about me.

Total bullshit if you ask me.

I guess you can say with all the structure and ruling that fell at the hand of my father – you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I rebelled. Starting at the early age of 13, I snuck out of the house to meet the boys from the wrong sides of the tracks. We would listen to the devil’s music as my father called it – getting high as kites. My flower-patterned dress would be hiked up above my waist – my legs wrapped tightly around the guy’s hips – as they pounded into me. My mother always preached that a girl should stay pure until the night of their wedding -giving the gift of virginity to their awaiting husband.

I lost that gift behind the First Methodist Church to a kid three grades ahead of me. It was meaningless and hurt like hell, but after that I couldn’t get enough.

By the time I hit 16, I had fucked half the senior class. I gained a reputation as the 10th grade slut – willing to do anything and anyone. Now, was this true – partially. I didn’t care if you were the ugliest guy in class – if you had a dick then I was ready and willing. I was never one to seek the guys out first. They would come to me and a couple minutes later they would be making me cum. There were rumors that I was a child prostitute – my parents were less than thrilled to hear that be brought up during a meeting with the principal.

At that point, I was pulled out of the school and sent to an all-girls catholic school about 45 minutes from home. My father made sure to drive me every day and would stay on the premises until school was over. Even if I wanted to ditch class and run away, Roy Landry was watching like a fucking hawk. I managed to mellow out a little once I graduated high school – I guess being locked up like Rapunzel will do that to people. I wasn’t allowed to go to prom – parties thrown by the other girls - I was isolated in my room. While my brothers were living their lives, I was stuck watching Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News with Brenda and Roy ever night.

I’m sure you’re trying to figure out where I’m going with all this information – I swear it’s important given the truth you’re about to hear.

A girl who hitchhiked all the way to California- fell in love with two brothers who despised each other – watching as they both fell into the pits of hell by creating the most dangerous motorcycle gang in Northern Cali – my story has to start somewhere, right?

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oskea93 · 2 months

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Hello! So, i've been toying with this idea for a while and I think I kind of know where i'm gonna go with it. Where the Wild Things Are will be an SOA beginning story if you will. Instead of being the son of the first nine, Jax will now be one of the founding members along with his brother, Thomas (Austin Butler). I got the idea after watching the second trailer of The Bikeriders and to say i'm excited would be an understatement. This story will be very raw, emotional, chaotic, and hard to read at times due to situations. Most of the main characters on Sons will be included as well. I can't wait to begin writing this tragic tale for you all!

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oskea93 · 2 months

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☨ Fire Away ☨

✴︎ Chapter Ten - preview ✴︎

⍏Taglist: @xoxoindigo @vampluv3r @ladysybilchronicles @badkitty83 @volturgeist @theplagueworm @dogmom2014 @hybridlamb @clandestine-nerd @yourfamilyfriendsatan @yourlocalrockstarsimp @violetlilites @quennconstanceuniverse @soraththefallenangel @cancankiki @jamiebowerslut @okimreadynow @R2quellyz @historyandfandoms50 @dogmom2014 @kaitieskidmore1 @quinnswife86 @wooya1224 @e-munson666 @nessaisboring @j-herondale121109 @greatfandom @fayythe

I placed the finishing touches on my outfit – pulling loose the tie as I sat on the edge of the bed. Vanessa was still downstairs with Charlotte – the flowers they had purchased potted and planted. The dress that she had picked out days prior hung against the closet door – the glitter shimmering in the early spring sun. Her words from before still haunting me as I studied the mental photo of her that I had taken that moment. Her bright eyes were filled with worry – a hint of sadness present. Something was troubling her, but she didn’t care to share.

I let out a sigh as I pushed off the bed, reaching for the pack of smokes on the nightstand.

“Fuck me.” I groaned, realizing the lighter had died.

The cigarette hung from my lips as I searched for a replacement. I searched through the top two drawers first, usually finding one that I had hidden. By the time I reached the third drawer, Vanessa’s drawer, the thought of finding a lighter slipped my mind.

The ultrasound photo stared back at me – the bolded words causing the cigarette to fall from my lips.

It’s a boy!

She was having a boy – we were having a son…

#jamie campbell bower imagine #caius twilight #caius volturi x oc #caius x reader #caius volturi x reader #caius volturi imagine #twilight #the volturi #jamie bower imagine #jamie campbell bower fanfic #jamie campbell bower

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oskea93 · 2 months

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Patiently waiting for any kind of Jamie Campbell Bower Horizon fic, imagine, ANYTHING!!!

#fanfiction #jamie campbell bower imagine #i need it now #jamie campbell bower

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oskea93 · 2 months

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Keep it to Yourself (3 - Part one)

✶ DouglasBooth!Nikki Sixx x OC ✶

Warning: Cursing, physical violence A/N: Hey guys! So, this is kind of just a filler chapter that goes along with the last chapter. I promise things are gonna kick up soon and you'll get to see how everything goes down once Bryant is with Nikki 24/7. I just want to also say thank you to everyone that has been reading! You guys are amazing and I appreciate the love so much!!

Taglist: @fancywasmyname1, @kaitieskidmore1, @xxisxxisxxis, @sparxx27, @cruecifymesixx, @tempt-ress, @a-sia-san, @x-xinenas, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog, @makaelahdelvalle

“Okay, well thanks for checking.”

I watched as Doc hung up the phone, his hand moving down his face in exhaustion. That was the fourth person he had called and there was still no sign of Nikki. “Haven’t seen him.” He muttered as he started to pace. “I don’t know who else to call or even know where to look. He could be halfway out of California right now for all I know.”

The party quickly died out after Nikki and I’s explosive reunion. Nobody was really in the mood to party anymore after having to dodge glass bottles and whatever else Nikki could get his hands on.

“I doubt he went very far –“ I started. “He’s high off his ass, Doc. He probably went back to his house to get even more loaded.” Doc shook his head. “You knew this was going to happen – You and I both knew he wouldn’t react well to seeing me.”

“Well, I thought he would have a change of heart.” He rushed. “The bastard hasn’t seen you in a few years – he was fucking infatuated with you – he fucking loved you.”

“She left his ass standing on the stoop outside of his house, Doc.” Vince interjected. “Would you be happy to see the woman that left you the way she left him? He was a fucking wreck because of Bryant – You think this time is going to be any different?”

I turned to look at the blonde, “Everyone forgets the fact that he’d been cheating for months.” Our eyes locked. “But yet I’m the asshole because I stood up for myself and left. I guess I should’ve been like the whores you get with that’ll stay no matter how many women you’re fucking.”

He puckered his lips, earning a laugh from the bimbo attached to his side.

Vince and I never had the type of friendship that I had with Mick and Tommy. We tolerated each other and that was it. I was there the day he showed up to Nikki’s apartment. His girlfriend led the way into the living room – the arrogance flowing from her like a cheap perfume. She was your typical rich girl from the Valley, who was basically just with Vince to piss off her parents. She bought that son of a bitch anything he wanted – spending thousands of her parent’s money on the man. I guess the coke they spent so much time snorting damaged not only her brain cells but also her judgement.

I rolled my eyes in disgust before removing myself from the couch. Doc had retreated to the backyard, a portable phone pressed against his ear as he walked along the pools edge. I decided that this was my que to leave – taking matters into my own hands. I knew of some places that Nikki frequented when we were together. If he wasn’t at his house, then I would try those places. Unlucky for Doc, he was notorious for leaving his car keys in the ignition – easy access for anyone that wanted to take it. I threw my purse into the passenger seat before climbing in and starting the engine. I tore out of Vince’s driveway – speeding onto the freeway as the warm, night air whipped through my hair.

“You think this is okay – You look like you’re ten seconds away from the fucking grim reaper coming for your ass!” He rolled his eyes as he paced the kitchen – his fists balled up at his sides. “Doc called me and ask-“

“You fucking called her?” His eyes wild as he stared Doc down. “You fucking called her!”

“I had no other choice, Nikki.” Doc was terrified. “You’re getting worse every day and you won’t listen to anyone at this point. I had no other person to turn too - She’s your wife, Nikki.”

“Ex-wife.” Nikki and I spoke at the same time.

Doc let out a sigh, “Wife, ex-wife – It’s all the fucking same. You two were married – you were madly in love with each other. Yeah, it ended badly but I know for a fucking fact that Bryant still cares enough about you to not want to see you like this.”

I kept my eyes on Nikki, “If he wants to kill himself with a needle then that’s his fucking choice.”

“What!?” I winced as Doc grabbed onto my arm. “What’re you saying, Bryant?”

Nikki and I stared at each other – he was still fucked up, but I could see the hatred and emotion coursing through his green eyes. “Nikki’s a grown man, Doc. A grown man that’s acting like a little bitch because of all the trauma that’s fucked up his life. He thinks that a needle filled with a feel-good drug is gonna help his pathetic ass – then let him think that. Who am I to say anything – It’s not like I wasn’t there when the real creative juices were flowing – when Motley was at the top of their game. Nikki’s choice is to be a junky – a fucking junky who’s never gonna reach the top – just the bottom of a 6-foot hole and his name added to the overdose roster..."

I parked behind one of the cars that was here earlier – quickly getting out and running towards the stairs. The door was still unlocked, and the house was still a disaster. I didn’t bother calling out of for him – choosing to run up the stairs and into the bedroom. It was a shock to see the once bright room was now painted a dark red – Tiffany lamps with scarves over them casted a low light across the room. The state of the room matched that of downstairs – the only difference being the random dime bags and needles scattered around. The TV that sat in the corner displayed a shattered screen – looking as if a bullet had gone right through it. Doc had mentioned that Nikki would hallucinate, the drugs telling him that his house was being invaded.

“Where are you?” I whispered as I moved towards the notorious closet.

This was his spot – his safe space to do dangerous things. I took a deep breath before slowly pushing the wooden door – the sight causing my stomach to drop. A collection of used syringes and a revolver laid on the burnt carpet. Bullet holes that matched the one that was put in his TV were displayed on the walls around the small area. This was the room that possessed Nikki – lured him in like a siren out in the ocean. The closet was like a mistress – their relationship buried behind the heavy cathedral doors.

“Nikki!”

My head shot up at the sound of the shrill voice. The female’s heavy heels slapped against the marble floor as she continued to scream his name out. I removed myself from the closet, walking out of his room as I looked over the banister. She was petite blonde girl – late teens – possibly early 20s. Her clothing was typical of those that hung out on the strip – black leather, short skirts, and tits out for the world to see.

“Nikki, please baby –“She wined as she searched. “I need you right now, baby.”

“He’s not here.”

She stopped dead in here tracks, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. It was evident that she was one of his junky whores. She not only got to fuck around with Nikki – but she also got to indulge in the glamorous drugs that his fame brought in.

Her face twisted into disgust, “Who the fuck are you?” Typical valley girl. “And how the fuck did you get in my boyfriend’s house?”

I couldn’t help but smirk as her feathers ruffled. It was cute that she thought Nikki cared about her. I pushed myself from the frame, slowly walking down the stairs. I kept my eyes on her as I took each step – her body twitching as the last of the drugs wore off.

My slightly taller frame stood over her, “I think the better questions is who are you?”

She shifted away – her mind trying to tell her to act normal but her body betraying her. “I’m Colette – Nikki’s girlfriend.” She spoke so surely. “Now – “ She cocked her hip to the side. “Tell me who the fuck you are and why are you in my fucking boyfriend’s house.”

I took a second, just looking at her and thinking what a shame it was that she was in the position she was in. Colette was a very pretty girl – probably came from a good family – actually graduated from high school and had a bright future ahead before she met Satan on the strip.

“How old are you?” I dodged her question.

She looked confused for a second, “19.”

Nikki – you fucking bastard.

“Why are you hanging around a 27-year-old man who’s addicted to ever drug known to man? You should be hanging out with your friends – going to college – not sleazing around on the strip looking for a fuck and a bump.”

“Nikki loves me-“

I let out a laugh, “You honestly think Nikki Sixx – big rockstar for Motley Crue – loves and cares about some little chick he met at a bar? Honey-“ I stepped closer. “The only thing that man loves right now is melted and injected into whatever vein he can find. You’re just a piece of ass to him – an easy fuck that he’s just gonna forget about when the drugs start to wear off. You and I both know you deserve way better than that – Don’t be one of those girls that are just hanging around and getting fucked up just to brag that you bagged Nikki Sixx.”

Maybe telling someone the cold truth wasn’t best when they’re coming down from drugs. Colette instantly broke down in tears – literally falling onto the floor as loud sobs left her body. I couldn’t help but just stand there for a second – to stunned to even do anything right away. I wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction – I was honestly waiting for her to start throwing punches or to cuss me out.

“Oh my God –“ I muttered as I pulled her off the floor. “I didn’t say those things to make you cry.” Mascara streaked down her face. “I was just trying to get you to understand that Nikki isn’t all he’s cracked up to be.” She was still crying – her eyes puffy and lipstick smeared as she wiped away the tears.

“Why do you even care?” Her voice cracking.

I took a deep breath, “ I was married to Nikki.” Her eyes connecting with mine. “We got together way before he formed Motley – back when things were less hazy. I was in your shoes at one point. I was that little girl that hung around the strip, and I let Nikki talk me into a lot of things that I should’ve never done, but he sucks you in with those green eyes and that smile.” Colette stayed silent as I spoke. “I guess what I’m trying to say is just stay away from Nikki or any guy with long hair on the strip for that matter. You’re too pretty to get strung out and have your life ruined by these guys.”

Just like a typical addict, her demeanor instantly changed and the girl that I first met reared back around. She pushed away from me, smoothing out her leather outfit as she rolled her eyes. “You’re a fucking liar.” She sniffed back the remaining tears. “You’re probably some psycho stalker that’s in love with Nikki and you’re just trying to push me away. I love Nikki and he loves me, and I won’t let you or anyone else for that matter get in my way, you stupid bitch!”

Before I had time to reply or react for that matter, her ring clad fist connected with my nose. Searing pain and the sound of bones crunching rang through my brain as I stumbled back. Not giving me the chance to recover, she lurched towards me once again, my red hair balled in her fist as she brought me to the ground. I’m usually scrappy, but the bitch was still high, making her have the strength that she typically would never have. If I didn’t think fast there was a chance that she could cause more damage or even kill me. Before she could send another blow to my face, I brought my knee up, practically stabbing it into her stomach, causing her to fall beside me on the ground. She moaned out in pain, giving me the chance to bring her equal payback...

I never liked fighting, but I could never stop once I started. I would go into another world – blacking everything out as my fist did the damage.

Colette was a bruised, bloody mess by the time Doc arrived, pulling me off her scrawny body. I didn’t even know it was him until his voice finally broke through the fog I was in. Pretty sure I hit him to as I flailed around as he tried to get me under control.

“God dammit, Bryant!” Doc yelled as he threw me onto the couch.

I heard another voice as I crashed back to reality – the site of jet-black hair kneeling beside Colette catching my eye. Nikki carefully picked up the young girl, carrying her bridal style up the staircase to his heroin den.

“She did a number on you, didn’t she?” Doc muttered as he started cleaning my face.

“Fuck you.” I spat as I stormed off the couch. My face was pounding – blood still falling onto my shirt as I walked out the front door. I knew my nose was broken – her rings wreaking havoc on my face with each punch but how fucking dare Nikki tend to her first! I could feel tears welling up as I paced the yard.

“Bryant, you need to get back in the house.” Doc spoke from the stairs.

“Fuck you!” I yelled. “Fuck you! Fuck Nikki! And fuck that stupid fucking cunt, Colette!”

Good thing Nikki didn’t have neighbors or else they would be getting a free show right now.

Doc trudged down the staircase, grabbing my arm off guard, dragging me back into the home Nikki and I once shared. “Sit your ass down.” He firmly placed me into the dining room chair, placing a rag full of ice on the bridge of my nose.

“Fuck me.” I winced as the weight and coldness of the ice balanced on my face.

Doc let out a sigh, “I was going to kick your ass myself for stealing my car, but I’ll give you a break this time.” I rolled my eyes. “Now, you gonna tell me what happened between you two?”

I glanced up at him, “Isn’t it obvious.”

“It’s obvious you let her get the first punch in.” He smirked. “But I wanna know why it all started?”

“Well, he’s 6’1 and a fucking asshole.”

Doc looked towards the ceiling, “You’re fighting a fucking groupie over Nikki? I thought we got past that point back in 1982?”

“I told her that she doesn’t need to be hanging around a guy like Nikki. She’s too young to be strung out and hanging on the streets of Hollywood trying to get the attention of junky rockstars.”

“Brya-“The sounds of sires caught our attention as the cars pulled behind Nikki’s corvette. I walked closely behind Doc as he walked back to the front door, the officers halfway up the stairs. “Evening officers –“He was sweating. “What seems to be the problem?”

The officer looked over Doc’s shoulder, his eyes connecting with mine. “Got a call about an assault on a young woman.” He placed his hands on his belt. “Are you Bryant Mitchell?”

Doc spoke up first, “Listen officer, this is all just a misunderstanding.”

The officer wasn’t having it, “Doesn’t sound like a misunderstanding, sir.” His hands going for the handcuffs. “Now, are you Bryant Mitchell?”

He let her call the fucking cops on me. “Yes, sir.” My voice low.

The man nodded his head, pushing Doc out of the way as he reached moved behind me, grabbing onto my arms as he placed the cuffs around my wrists. “Bryant Mitchell, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say could be used against you in the court of law…”

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #fanfiction #motley crue #1980s #nikki sixx x oc #douglas booth #motley crue fanfic #nikki sixx imagine #mick mars #douglasbooth!nikkisixx #douglas booth fanfiction #douglas booth imagine #motley crue fanfiction #vince neil #iwan rheon #colson baker #tommy lee #daniel webber

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