#I’m writing my Taylor Swift song fic for my ship

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It��s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #gosh is that a first tag? i don’t think so I know I’ve seen schemes at the very least on here #mota fanfic #austin butler #gale cleven #john egan #Major Egan #Major Cleven #buck cleven #Gale Cleven fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fluff #Austin Butler imagine #Austin butler smut #callum Turner fanfiction #callum turner #harry crosby #anthony boyle #hbo war #band of brothers #the pacific

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 || quinn hughes ♔

album & song: evermore ; willow

summary: y/n loves quinn and quinn loves her. they would do everything and anything for each other or some moments in y/n and quinn's relationship that really make them, them

pairings: quinn hughes x best friend!reader (minor luke and jack x platonic!reader)

warnings: parents fighting, crying, fighting, i don't think anything else

notes: hey y'all, a promise is a promise so here is willow! i've really wanted to write this one for a while so i'm happy it's finally done. this is kind of best friends to lovers but really the only time they're best friends is like two parts of the fic but there are references to it. i haven't done a nhl x ts one in a while and i also haven't written a quinn fic in a while so, here's both. i love quinn and i love how this turned out. i'm sorry the last three are kinda of short and i cut out some lyrics but i was getting kinda tired and everything i wrote i hated so this is the best out of all of them. weird side note, i was at one point in the story where it said 'the one' while editing and i was listening to my taylor swift playlist on shuffle (because it gets me in the mood to write) and 'the 1' came on. i swear, stuff like this has been happening so much recently and i don't know why. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

evermore masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

‘I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife’

Senior Year of High School

She was having a tough time, school, finals, graduation, work, everything and anything that she did seemed like it was ganging up on her. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for her stress, but there were many things she could blame it on.  On top of it, her parents had been fighting nonstop for the past month. It wasn’t like they hadn’t before but this time it was worse, she felt like she was the cause for it.

Quinn had invited her over for some dinner, hoping to at least relieve some of the stress from his best friend’s shoulders. When she arrived he could see the stress in her face, she looked as if she didn’t really want to come in the first place. 

He stepped aside and let the girl in, “Hey, y/n/n.”

“Hi, Quinn.”

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired.” She ran a hand through her hair before following Quinn to his room, saying hi to Ellen on the way. Ellen looked at the girl strangely, “Hi, y/n.”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Ellen, hon.” She pressed a kiss to her head, “Are you okay? You look-”

Bad? Drained? Streseed? Annoyed? Tired? All of the above? Is what she wanted to say, but didn’t, “I’m just a little tired right now.” Ellen nodded but looked unconvinced, shooting her oldest a look who also nodded his head.

He lightly took the girl’s arm and took her to his room, offering her to sit on his bed which she took gratefully. She looked around his room and at the posters on his wall before looking over at where he now sat at his desk. He was already looking at her with a small smile on his face, concern still lingering in his eyes.

The two stared at each other for a moment before a knock was heard on the door, “Hi.”

The two looked over to see his brothers standing there, “Hi Jack, Luke.”

Quinn didn’t reciprocate his best friend’s kindness, “What do you two want?”

“We just wanted to give y/n this.” Luke pulled out one of his bear stuffed animals from behind his back, “You looked sad.” Jack stood there, slightly out of place, mostly because this was Luke’s idea instead of his, but he liked y/n enough to go with him.

“Awe, thanks, you guys.” Tears made their way to the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall in front of the two. 

Noticing her expression, Jack waved goodbye and dragged the eighth grader behind him. Y/n held the bear in her lap, arms wrapping around it tightly as she tried not to think of the events that happened before she got here. 

“Y/n/n? Are you sure you're okay, because if not-” Quinn’s overwhelming concern for her made the tears bubble over in her eyes and a sob ripped from her throat, “I can’t do it anymore, Quinny.” 

Quinn was quick to get up from his desk chair and stumble over to his bed to wrap the girl in a hug. He knew he didn’t have to do anything but hold her tight as she dug her head into his chest, the stuffed animal still clutched tightly to her chest. 

It took her about ten minutes to calm down, tear after tear, and for her it felt like it would never stop. Quinn did what he always did and waited for her to stop so he, or she, could talk about it. He knew if he tried to talk to her while she was crying, she wouldn’t listen, nothing got through to her when she was crying this hard. 

When she pulled away to wipe away her tear-stained face, Quinn opened his mouth to talk, “You know you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you can, I’ll always listen.” He reached his hand out to wipe away one tear that she missed, one blackened by her mascara, leaving a trail of the makeup it held behind it. 

She held a weak smile on her face at the warmth his hand brought to her cheek and looked at him, “Just finals and other shit like that, the usual. Plus, my parents were fighting again, I think that was my final straw.”

Quinn nodded his head, recognizing the tone in her voice that said she didn’t want to talk. Her face looked more tired after crying and he sighed, scooting back to rest his back against the headboard. Y/n looked at him confusedly but smiled when he opened his arms. She was quick to lay against his front, laying her head on his chest once more, still holding the bear in her grasp. 

Ellen walked by twenty minutes later to tell them that dinner was ready, but when she peaked into her son’s room and saw both of them with their eyes closed she smiled, closed the door, and walked away telling the rest of the family to be quiet as they slept. 

✧༺✎༻∞

‘And if it was an open-shut case I never would've known from that look on your face Lost in your current like a priceless wine’

End of Senior Year/Summer of ‘17

The both of them knew the feelings that they harbored for each other, but were both unsure of how the other felt. Neither one of them wanted to mess up their current friendship, they had been best friends since freshman year. 

It had never been that simple between them, their friends saying how they looked like a couple everywhere they went. She would always wear his jerseys to his games or one of his shirts and he would always show up to her events with unwavering support. 

Whenever someone saw Quinn, y/n wasn’t too far behind and vice versa, whenever y/n was asked what she was doing that night, she would say hanging out with Quinn and vice versa. They would always be caught holding hands or leaning up against one another or literally any other way that looked like they were dating. 

They never said anything though, and they wouldn’t until graduation. Quinn and y/n stood side by side taking a picture with each other as they waited for their parents to find them. Y/n knew Quinn was good at hockey, good enough to get drafted, good enough to make the NHL, it was no secret. But because of Quinn’s birthday that wouldn’t happen for at least another year.

She was worried, she didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t want him to become this big-shot hockey player and forget about her, she didn’t want him to become a self-absorbed player with an ego bigger than himself. Though deep down she knew he would never let his ego get that big, but the forgetting part? As much as she told herself he wouldn’t and knew that he wouldn’t she couldn’t get past the ‘what if?’

Quinn waved a hand in front of her face, snapping a couple of times to gain her attention, “Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.” He dragged out the last syllable of her name. 

She looked at him, her eyes getting rid of the glassed-over look by blinking, “What?”

“I’ve been talking for the past couple of minutes and you, my dear sweet y/n, have not responded. You have just been-” Quinn looked over to where her focus had landed when she spaced out, “staring at that tree.”

“Oh sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“What’s going to happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re going to go to school for one year and then you’re going to get drafted. You’re going to go away somewhere and play professional hockey for a living and you’re going to forget about me.”

“Who said I was going to forget about you?”

“No one, just me and my thoughts.”

“Well, you and your thoughts are wrong, because I could never forget about you.” He tilted her head down to kiss the top of her head.

“That’s what you say now.”

“I’ll you fly out to wherever I’m playing, Nashville, Toronto, Vancouver, anywhere, and I’ll let you punch me if I forget about you because you are the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me. Since freshman orientation, I knew you were the one.”

“Are you just saying that because I was the only one who would talk about hockey with you?”

Quinn being bold, slid his hands underneath y/n’s graduation gown, grabbing onto her waist through the fabric of her dress and pulling her close to him. She stumbled because it was unexpected and she was in heels, causing the boy to apologize before placing his index finger underneath her chin and lifting it so her eyes would meet his, “Look at me.”

She sighed when the two made contact. Quinn noticed the fear in her eyes, she truly didn’t want to lose him and he didn’t either, “I know you’re worried and so am I, but I promise you this-”

She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, the whole bullshit of the promises not to forget about her, she’s read it plenty of times in books, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Quinn.” She diverted her eyes away again, directing them to the other families around them.

“Hey.” Quinn once again moved her head so her eyes had no choice but to look into his own, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Quinn but that doesn’t really change-”

“Just shut up for one minute, will you? I love you, y/n. And I don’t mean the typical I love you that you give to Taylor. I love you and I was too afraid to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and I didn’t know how you felt but I thought if there was a time to tell you this, it would be now.”

Y/n looked at him in shock, the words she had been waiting for since she walked into the auditorium for orientation. This wasn’t real life, was it?

Quinn stared at her blank face as she opened and closed her mount a couple of times, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

The boy went to walk away but she placed a hand on his arm, “No! No, I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to say. I love you too, Quinn.”

“You do?”

She nodded and Quinn wasted no time placing his lips onto hers.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in’

Fall of ‘21

She loved Quinn, she truly did, but not that much that she was willing to stay up into the early hours of the morning/late hours of the night for him after a game. She texted him saying that she was going to bed and that she was proud of him for his game. 

It was the first time since they moved in together that Quinn had a night home game. Getting used to the rhythm that was going to be for the rest of Quinn’s hockey career was starting slow. She wasn’t used to him coming home at late hours of the night or leaving in the early hours of the morning before the sun was up to go to practice. 

She didn’t mind it that much though, just knowing that he was coming home to her was good enough for the both of them. She laid in bed, hoping that she would be able to stay awake until he got home but she fell asleep within moments of her laying on the bed. 

When Quinn got the text, he had just finished putting on his suit jacket and he wanted nothing more than to go home to his girl and lay next to her in their newly shared bed. But, his teammates were not going to let that happen. 

They dragged him to a bar to have one or two drinks before heading home. He thinks he’s never detested his teammates this much before this moment. When he finished his first drink, he said goodbye, practically running out of the doors of the bar. 

He unlocked the car and practically sped home and crept into the apartment, just in case y/n was already sleeping. He set his things down and walked into the bedroom and smiled when he saw her curled up in the sheets, a shirt of his adorning her body much like in college when he’d go to away games. 

He took a quick shower, not wanting to prolong the duration of not having her in his arms. He put a pair of sweatpants on before carefully lifting the covers and sliding into bed. Y/n, who had been awake since he walked in the apartment doors, turned over, “Hi Quinner.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped to his girlfriend’s, “Hi sweetheart. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” 

“No, I was just a little cold and then I heard the front door click open.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?”

“Because then I would’ve had to wait even longer for you to come to bed.”

Quinn smiled, giving her a kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind They count me out time and time again’

2022

_quinnhughes

liked by yourusername, jackhughes, lhughes_06, and 50,161, others

_quinnhughes one of my annual appreciation posts for this girl right here

thank you for nine years of knowing you, they have been the best i've ever known. happy anniversary, my love

tagged yourusername

view 556 comments

yourusername awe quinn, i love you so much! happy anniversary, love ❤️

jackhughes i guess i love you too, happy anniversary to my second favorite couple

⤷ lhughes_06 who's your first favorite?

⤷ jackhughes mom and dad, who else

lhughes_06 happy anniversary yourusername and quinn! y/n you have been like a sister to me

⤷ yourusername see jack, this is what nice siblings do for their siblings partner, thank you lukey!

⤷ jackhughes hey, i said i love you, does that not count for something

⤷ yourusername oh it does, i love you too jack, you too luke

⤷ user01 so fucking ungrateful, she just comes and gets to be an ass to his family 🙄

user02 who the fuck is this?

⤷ user03 i know, she's literally not that special

user04 she's not even that pretty

user05 she has to hide her face because she's so ugly 😂, that's the reason why quinn picked these photos

user06 congratulations you two!

liked by yourusername and _quinnhughes

bboeser happy anniversary y/n and huggy

⤷ yourusername thanks brock!

user07 she's literally so annoying

⤷ user08 ikr, quinn deserves so much better

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind But I come back stronger than a 90's trend’

2022

nhlwags

liked by yourusername, _quinnhughes, and 3,043 others

nhlwags a little birdie told us one of our younger wags made gifts for the whole entire canucks team and staff, what a sweetheart.

happy belated anniversary to quinn hughes and y/n y/l/n!

following, please stop spreading hate about y/n she hasn't done anything to deserve this

tagged yourusername, _quinnhughes

view 218 comments

yourusername it was the least i could do! everyone has been so nice to me and they love quinn so i just reciprocated the love through my own way 💙💚

j.tmiller9 coming from all the canucks and the staff, please be kind to y/n, she has done nothing wrong to any of you and all of us, especially quinn and y/n, would greatly appreciate it. the two of them don't deserve slander for anything. (btw thanks for the bag, y/n!)

liked by _quinnhughes, yourusername, and 200 others

bboeser loved the gift, y/n is truly one of a kind

liked by yourusername

_eliaspettersson y/n is like the wag if i ever saw one

⤷ yourusername i'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or not, but thanks anyways petey

⤷ _eliaspettersson definetely a compliment

tdemko30 she really got us all surprised... can we get more cookies by the way?

⤷ yourusername of course!!

user05 she really clapped back at the haters. we stan y/n!

⤷ user09 i know! she is the best ever, did it in the most respectful way ever tbh

user10 the canucks team coming to y/n's defense is the cutest thing ever

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars’

Summer of ‘19

“Meet me at the dock after everyone goes to bed” was the text y/n got at ten o’clock. She smiled to herself when she read it and patiently waited for everyone to go to bed before sneaking out of the house and running down to the dock. Quinn sat with his feet dangling over the wood into the water waiting for his girlfriend. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned around and grinned when he saw her running towards him. 

They hadn’t had a moment alone together in almost three months. When Quinn had to fly to Vancouver to make his debut, she couldn’t come with him, having to finish her classes. Then she was staying with her parents for the majority of May and into June and she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Quinn had been finishing up some things with the team and he ended up spending some much-needed time with his family. 

Ever since y/n had gotten to the lake house, she had been helping Ellen with things and spending time with Luke and Jack because they wanted her to. They played Mario Kart and other video games, and the two made her go out on the boat with them and made her watch as they did tricks and flipped into the water. 

Quinn patted the space next to him but instead, y/n took her spot right on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His eyes widened at the sudden contact but happily wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling into one another. 

Y/n looked at him, “So, I guess I’m dating a big-shot NHL player now, huh?”

Quinn merely shrugged, “I guess you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, unfortunately, because he’s living in a totally different country than me and in the opposite direction.”

“Aw, that sucks. I’m sorry to hear that. He must feel terrible.”

“Oh I don’t know, he gets to be a free man.”

“I wouldn’t say free, more sad.”

That comment made her perk up, “What’s wrong?”

“I just, miss you.” His voice ever so slightly cracked and she could see the tears starting to form in his eyes, “Honey. Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

At the nickname, Quinn immediately started crying,  he had missed her so much, much more than he ever imagined he would. He never really thought about the fact that his best friend, his girlfriend, his everything would be in Michigan while he was in Vancouver. 

“No, it’s not okay. I get to live out my dream but my dream isn’t complete without you there. We’re going to be 2,368.82 miles (3,812.25 km) apart for at least the next two years. I don’t think I can do it.”

Y/n hated it when he cried, it broke her heart into a million pieces when she saw the tears trickling down his face. Much like he always did with her, she reached up and cupped his face, wiping his tears off his face, “Listen to me. We are Quinn and y/n, y/n and Quinn, when has anything ever stopped us from being apart? Where’s the Quinn from when we graduated, huh? The Quinn who promised me that he would never forget me and that everything was going to be okay? Just because we’re however many miles/kilometers you said apart doesn’t mean anything. Now it’s my turn to promise you something. I promise you that we are going to find a way to make this work.”

Quinn nodded his head, still a little unconvinced about her words. In a way to distract him from the thoughts that he never thought he would be able to escape, she looked at the scars on his body and started asking him questions about them. 

Some were from his childhood when he, Jack, and Luke would be playing a game or messing around and one of them would throw something at him or he was pushed over. Some were from when he played hockey when he was younger, getting shoved into the boards or shoving someone else into the boards. Some were from the games he played in the spring, his first games in the NHL. Those were y/n’s favorites and least favorites. Favorites because it was from his dream, and the stories behind them would last forever, least favorites because they reminded her of how much he could get hurt doing this. But that wasn’t something she wanted to worry about right now. 

All she wanted to do was think about this moment, the moment they were living in as the stars illuminated where they sat on the dock, in each other’s arms, talking about random stories from each other’s childhood. 

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Now this is an open-shut case Guess I should've known from the look on your face Every bait and switch was a work of art’

Fall/Winter of ‘23

“You guys would never guess what I found when I was cleaning the other day.” Y/n came walking in from the room she had been in. 

Jack and Luke sat at the table with Quinn and Ellen and Jim sat near their sons, one of the days leading up to the Hughes v Hughes game. They all smiled as the girl came bounding in, Quinn had just placed down his tiles when she spoke and he raised his eyebrows, “What’d you find, hon?”

Y/n placed a fluffy object down on the wood surface, “Luke’s bear that he and Jack gave me when we were in high school.”

“Paulie?” 

“You still remember its name?” Jack laughed loudly and Ellen got up to hit the middle child on the back of his head, “Don’t make fun of you brother.”

“Oh, come on. You have to admit, it's a little funny.”

Luke blushed heavily and Quinn quirked an eyebrow, “Why do you still have that is my question.” He took the bear into his grasp and started fiddling with its arms, “Because.”

She shrugged and all five of the Hughes’ looked intrigued, “Y/n, you have to tell us.” Jack insisted as he leaned forward, messing up the game that had previously been going on. Quinn and Luke groaned at their brother’s actions. 

“Because,” She ripped the bear from her boyfriend’s grasp and held it to her chest, “Because it reminds me of that day when I was sad and you guys cheered me up. It was the first day I felt a part of the family.”

“I remember that day.” Luke spoke up, looking between everyone in the room, “Jack and I were sitting on the couch when Quinn opened the door for you and you came in and you looked all…”

“Dead?”

“I was gonna say sad but I guess that works too. Anyway, when you two went up I told Jack my plan and he hesitated about it but I knew he had a soft spot for you so he caved in easily. I ran to my room to get the bear and give it to you.”

“It was a stupid, plan.” Jack laughed again but he knew how much it meant to y/n. 

The girl shrugged and hugged Luke from behind, resting her arms on his shoulders as they wrapped around him, classping her hands together, “It’s okay, Luke. I loved it.”

Ellen smiled, “And following, you’ve always been a part of the family. Ever since Quinn came back from freshman orientation just bragging about the girl he met.”

“Mom.” Quinn threw his head back in annoyance and y/n giggled, “You talked to your mom about me? From freshman orientation? Ew, I was just a dork back then.”

“If I remember correctly, Quinn couldn’t stop talking about the girl that wore a Patrick Sharp Blackhawks jersey one or two sizes too big, with her hair in braids who talked about hockey with him for the duration of orientation.” Jim patted his son on his shoulder as Quinn continued to clench his eyes in embarrassment. 

“Do we really have to relive this moment?”

“Maybe not now but Ellen and I are definitely going to talk about this when you aren’t around.”

“Hey look at that, she called me Ellen! It only took her ten years.” The woman teased as she wrapped her “daughter” in a hug. 

“Hey! I thought I was being respectful, and it’s a force of habit.” Y/n blushed as she smiled and gasped when all of a sudden an armed wrap around her and Quinn pulled her into his lap.

“Quinn!” Quinn hid his face in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, “I’m never going to live this down. 

“Probably not.” Looking at her watch, y/n realized the time, placing a kiss on Quinn’s forehead. 

“I should be going to bed, I got work in the morning. Night everyone!”

The four let out their goodnights and Quinn whispered an ‘I love you’ and y/n repeated the words to him before heading into their shared bedroom. The five Hughes’ sat in the kitchen for a couple of minutes in silence until Jack spoke, “So, when are you asking her?”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘The more that you say The less I know’

Freshman Year of College (17-18)

Sitting at one of the tables in the student center, y/n sat across from Quinn as he talked about whatever was going on in the hockey world. She understood hockey, enough to be able to watch the game when it was happening and she knew some of the stats, but anything past that, not a clue in the world. 

She loved it when Quinn talked about hockey though. His eyes lit up and held this glint in them, he talked really fast, just spewing out nonsense. It was the highlight of her day when it happened, it was at least once a day if not more. He would always show up outside her dorm room or offer to take her to dinner. 

Every time he did, it always took Quinn a while to notice that his girlfriend wasn’t responding and this was the same. Quinn was rambling about Ohio State’s hockey team and the upcoming game against them and she just sat there, amused by his voice and his facial expressions. 

Quinn was halfway through his ramble when he finally made eye contact with her, “You’re not paying any attention to this are you?”

“I’m sorry, babe, but it’s really hard to when you look like that when you talk.”

“Look like what? An idiot for not knowing my girlfriend is not listening to any word I say?”

“No, hot.” Quinn’s cheeks reddened as he looked at her, “You never fail to make me blush do you/”

“Absolutely not, and anyway, you know I never understand hockey. I try but it’s all in one ear and out the other.”

“I think one time we need to set up something so you can learn everything you need to know. Get you a book or make you a slide show or something.”

“Sure, Quinny. Whatever you say.”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Wherever you stray I follow’

September of ‘21

“You can just put that box over there.”

Jack placed down the box where y/n said, “How much stuff do you have?”

“Wow, Jack. Can’t believe you’d be so mean to me. This is why Luke is my favorite.” Y/n placed her arm around Luke as he walked into the apartment, “What?”

“Nothing, you poor innocent little man.” Y/n walked away to start unpacking the box Jack had placed down not too long ago.

“Do you guys need any help?” Luke asked politely following after his brother’s girlfriend. 

“Nah, I’m okay. Thanks you guys, just chill out for a little bit before we go out for dinner.” The two nodded sitting on Quinn’s, and now y/n’s, couch.

Just at that moment, Ellen walked in from the hallway and Quinn followed her, “It would be nice of you two to actually help y/n instead of just sitting there.”

Jack threw his arms up, “We offered to help her and she said no!”

“Actually, I offered but yes, she said it was okay.”

Y/n nodded her head, “I did.”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Later that night, y/n and Quinn were standing in the living room, looking out the window. Quinn was standing behind the girl with his arms wrapped around the waist, “I can’t believe this is real.”

“I know, the lights are beautiful.”

“Not that.”

“Then what?” She looked up at him to see a lovesick expression on his face. 

“You here, in Vancouver.”

“Hey, you didn’t want me to be here in the first place.”

“Yeah well, I wanted you to do what was best for you. I didn’t want you to move all the way out here just because I was here.”

“How dumb are you?”

“Very, apparently.” 

She smiled again and rocked the two of them side to side, “Whatcha wanna do?”

Quinn just winked at her eliciting a giggle from her.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man’

July/August of ‘21 + November 7, 2021

“Quinn please!”

“Y/n, I’m not letting you do this. You had it all planned out since the moment we both got our acceptance letters.”

“I know that Quinn, but things change, plans change. I want to be with you, forever. I want to be wherever you are, please just let me come to Vancouver with you.”

The two stared at each other, eyes locked. They had been arguing for the past hour, ever since y/n brought it up. She had just graduated college and with Quinn having been in the NHL for the past two years she got a taste of what it would be like to do long distance, and it was horrible for both of them. 

“You know what is like. These past two years have been horrible, Quinn, and not just for me and you know it.” Her voice cracked, “I would rather wreck everything I have planned for my future just to move to Vancouver for you. I can find a job there.”

“Are you sure, like 100% sure about this?” Y/n placed her hands on his cheeks, “Of course, I’m sure.”

Quinn nodded his head, “When do you want to move in?”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

It was November when y/n was able to go to Quinn’s first home game. It was a Sunday and they were playing the Stars. She was extremely excited as she threw on her jersey and drove to Rogers Arena. She met up with some of the wags that were going to the game as well and they sat in the suite waiting for their husbands to start playing. 

When they all came out, they cheered in unison watching them skate. They conversed slightly, giving y/n teasing comments and glances every time the announces would mention Quinn or he had done something even remotely good for the team. It was worse when he got sent to the penalty box for cross-checking in the first period.

Most of them gave her cheeky grins when they showed him in the box, some giving her nudges. She blushed deeply as they made their comments. She didn’t know what was up with him tonight, he got three primary assists and a penalty. 

After the game, the wags excitedly took the girl down to the tunnel to wait for Quinn, “Hey, there’s your man.”

Y/n looked up and smiled, “That is my man.” 

Quinn smiled brightly, picking the girl up and spinning her around, “I can’t believe you’re here! You’re actually here!”

“Alrighty, Quinny, calm down. You’re causing a scene.”

“Sorry, babe. I’m just really excited that you’re here.” He smiled down at her, his hands on her lower biceps, just above her elbow, “I can tell.”

“What do you say, you guys want to go out for dinner?”

“Quinn I got work in the morning. I need some sleep. Maybe another time though?” The girls nodded their heads at y/n and let the young couple wander off out of the arena and to their car.

“I’m really glad you’re here. I don’t know if I would’ve survived another minute without knowing you weren’t waiting at home for me.”

“Well, you never have to survive another minute without me again. Unless you’re on a road trip then, yes, but you know what I mean.”

Quinn and y/n were so in love it was actually kind of annoying to some people, but they had to admit that they were absolutely adorable.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@prettyinsatiable | @dancerbailey3 | @boliversworld | @if-my-heart-bleeds | @hearts-4-luke | @sarawinson78 | @pucks-goals-penalties | @elegieseulogise | @crazycat-ladys-blog | @privatemythss | @5secondsofonedirection222 | @piavettel33 | @bohemianrapshawty | @mikayladavis | @klkennedy

#sunny lune writes #sunnylunenhlxts #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #taylor swift #evermore #willow #Spotify

[jaidens]

could i request a bradley bradshaw fic inspired by the song “timeless” by taylor swift? the line “and u were headed off to fight in the war, you still would’ve been mine we would’ve been timeless” reminds me so much of him 😀

you were headed off to fight in the war, you still would've been mine we would've been timeless

pairing [s] : bradley bradshaw x reader

warning [s] : none

a/n [s] : requests are open! ty for the request

When the letter came into the mailbox, underneath junk mail and scattered bills, sat the United States Navy Fighter Weapons School letter.

It made you cover your mouth and shake your head, as you hear Bradley throwing baseballs outside in the backyard. Giggles and laughing that peer from your daughter and her friend that came over.

It would have killed Bradley to know he had to leave once more. After a successful mission, Bradley told you what he had to do. The Navy was offering him the job as an instructor for the fleets. However, coincidentally, you had given birth and he was on paternity leave for those weeks, successfully missing the letters.

Now, there was no way to get out of it.

Walking over to Bradley, seeing him shirtless as he helps Nick get his pitching position correctly.

“Bradley,” You call, attempting to get just his attention. “Bradley!”

Bradley flips his view from Nick to you, eyebrows crossing together in worry. “Yeah, honey?”

“Can I talk to you? Privately.” Bradley nods and follows you into the house. You sit down at the couch and there sits the letter, as you burn your eyes at it. Bradley looks, understandably, worried as he sits next to you and lets his hand fall against yours. “I was looking through the mail today. And—and I saw this.” Picking up the letter and handing it to him, you cover your face and you see Bradley read the paper.

He opens it with his thumb and pulls out the folded paper. Bradley reads it and says the other part aloud. “...and in reasonable consideration, we will see you on the 1st day of September.”

Bradley drops the paper against the wooden coffee table. His hand goes to cover his mouth as he stares at the paper. “That’s tomorrow. The damn Navy decided to tell me this today, when I'm leaving tomorrow.” He can't look at you.

“We’ll get ice cream tonight, let the kids stay up, and we'll write you notes to look at. You'll be fine.” You scoot closer to your husband, hand holding onto his, and you lay your head against his shoulder.

“I know. It just really sucks. Six months away from my babies, you, my whole life is out here.” Bradley turns his head to look at you, eyes welling with dangerous tears that fall when be blinks.

“We’ll be fine. Everything will work out.” You comfort and you hug him. The gentle feeling of him as he wraps around you tightly.

—

The day comes at 11:30 in the morning. Bradley is standing there, holding his bag against his shoulder as he is practically crying. Nick holds on tightly to his dad's leg and Caroline is in his arms as she kisses his cheeks.

“I'll be home before you guys know it.” Bradley says to Caroline and Nick while he kisses her head softly. The warm San Diego air is pulling you back to your car and in the AC, but you can't leave Bradley for all that you pull. “Swear.”

“I’m gonna miss you. Don't get hooked on any bar girls. Still mine honey." You hear the sound of the plane starting and you hit his chest. “You come home to me you hear that?” You lay against him as he sets Caroline down. He pulls you into his arms and kisses you.

“Swear I'll come home to you. No bar girl is gonna take me away from you. You don't get stolen either honey.” You laugh with him and steal kisses from him. His lips envelop you as they begin to call any pilots to the ship. “I’ll see you honey." He grabs his stuff off the ground and he starts walking towards everyone.

“You come home to me, Bradshaw!”

“I will honey! Swear on my dead body I will.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x gn!reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley rooster x you #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x y/n

[traffydren]

*slams the door*

hi there

I read that you are simp from Law and that you write smut and I said to myself, this is it, I'm going to leave my request

can you please write a smut Law x Femreader (virgin) where Reader is the captain of her crew and they are friends with the heart Pirates

SO she and Law have been playing cat and mouse and are finally once again in a situation where they can take their time without their crews running away from the navy and stuff like that.

And finally they declare their feelings and fuck

~Delicate (Trafalgar Law x Fem! Reader Smut)~

A/N: I loved this idea so much! I spent two days on this, thank you so much for requesting this lovely! I really enjoyed writing this! I hope you love it! <333

Likes and Re-blogs appreciated, DO NOT! Copy my work! Please and thank you!

CW:Smut below! minors DNI! contains: Fluff! Law and Reader dancing around each other, one cuss word? Law eating reader out, gentle loving missionary sex, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!), Law being soft and gentle, soft, fluffy aftercare

I based the name of this fic from Taylor Swifts song Delicate!

Word Count: 2k words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being a pirate had its ups and downs. She was a pirate captain of her own crew, which can sometimes be a rowdy bunch. But she still cared about her crew like they are family, because to her, her crew is her family. She was friends with another fellow pirate crew. The Heart Pirates, their captain Trafalgar D. Water Law was an interesting man so to say. She felt attracted to the man, he was handsome. But there was a problem, the two everytime the crews met up, they danced around each other like a game of cat and mouse.

Right now was like any other day, it was surprisingly a calming day. The two crews were finally able to fully relax without having to worry about marines all the time wanting to capture them. So it felt nice to finally be able to relax and not stress about it. As per usual she and Law were bouncing around each other. Much to the two captains' crew's annoyance, it was completely obvious that the two were in love with each other. 

Both their crews decided to explore the island leaving her and Law alone on the Polar Tang, she was reading a book sitting down outside on the deck of the submarine like ship, Law was nearby sharpening Kikoku. He was quiet the whole time that he did so, she was starting to get bored. She let out a small sigh, which gained the attention of the said man. He looked up at her, raising his eyebrow at her. She looked at him.

“What?” she asked, looking at the man. He simply shrugged.“Nothing. If you’re that bored, you can always explore the island with the others.” He grunted out in his deep voice. “Nah I’m good. I’m bored, yes. But I would rather spend my time getting to finally enjoy the sun. Instead of always having to worry about the damn marines.” She spoke, as she closed the book she was reading, laying it down on the side. He grunted acknowledging her words without speaking. He was a man of not many words. Even though he always looked grumpy all the time.

She will never say it to his face, that regardless of the fact The Surgeon of Death always looked grumpy, and unapproachable, to her he was a sweet man, who cared about those closest to him. So he wasn’t a heartless man everyone made him out to be. If he was heartless he wouldn’t have saved strawhats life after Marineford.

So the man had a heart, and he cared just that he had different ways to show it. She didn’t even realize that she was still staring at Law, until he cleared his throat which got her attention. He stood up. “I’m gonna make myself something to eat. Do you want anything to eat? I'm sure there's something in the kitchen that you might like.” Law said, turning and looking at her. It made her heart start racing, she nodded. “Yes please, I would like that thanks.” She smiled at him. They headed back inside. Heading to the dining area. 

He went into the kitchen and made the two his favorite food Onigiri. His back was to her as he made the food. After he was done making the Onigiri he walked over to one of the tables she was sitting at, sitting one of the plates in front of her, and sat down with his plate of Onigiri right across from her. “Thanks Law.” She thanked the tattooed man across from her, he gave her a soft nod.

The two ate in silence, this was her second time trying his favorite food,it was really good. It made her heart swell that he was willing to share his favorite foods with her.  Now if only he would share what was on his mind. The look he was giving while focusing on his plate made her shiver from the intensity. She kept sneaking glances at the man, curiosity burning in her whole body. He felt her looking at him, he looked up at her raising his eyebrow in the process. “What? Is there something on my face?” He asked her, there was a piece of rice at the corner of his lip.

“Actually yes there is.” She giggled, before she reached over and softly brushed the rice from the corner of his lip. That made the man blush a little bit. “Thank you.” He thanked the woman sheepishly, she giggled a bit with a shy smile on her face. “Of course Law.” She spoke softly, her face was flushed with a blush also. He looked up at her again. The two held eye contact for what felt like a long time, but was actually only five minutes.

He thought she was beautiful, and he won’t lie he was attracted to the woman across from him, and he was tired of this cat and mouse game the two played, he needed to man up and confess to her. But why was it so hard to do so? The man has plenty of opportunities to do so, like right now is a good time. He let out a sigh “can I admit something to you?” He asked the woman across from him. She looked at him. “Yeah? What is it?” She inquired, confused while looking at him. 

“I… I like you.” He blurted out, making the woman start to blush at his words. She wasn’t stupid she knew what he was doing, he was confessing to her. “I l-like you too L-Law.” She spoke shyly, a blush still adorning her beautiful face. And regardless of the fact the two have already confessed he still was going to be respectful, and ask her one thing.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked her. She blushed even more at his question, but she nodded softly. He stood up walking over to the side of the table she sat at, he bent down to her height. Leaning in softly putting his lips against her own, she kissed him back. They held close together as they continued to kiss. Both were new to this and didn't want to process without making the other feel uncomfortable. They pulled away briefly for air, but quickly went back to kissing. 

Room, Shambles he had shambled the two, to his room on the sub. The two were still kissing, as he laid her down softly on the bed. He pulled away from her lips, looking down at the woman underneath his larger body. Both of their faces are adorned with a blush. His eyes were blown wide with lust and love. But there was one little problem.

She was a virgin…. He saw the scared look on her beautiful face. “Are you okay? We can stop.” He said quickly, looking at the smaller woman worriedly. She shook her head, she didn’t want to stop. “No! No! It's just…I’m a virgin.” She whimpered. His eyes went wide for a bit, but then they went soft. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, I promise. But if it’s too much, please tell me.” He spoke softly, but also very serious. “Yes Law.” She whispered, causing him to smile softly. He then started to kiss her neck softly. He lifted her shirt up softly, and unclipped her bra. 

He looked at her breasts, she was utterly beautiful. “So beautiful.” He spoke softly, as he leaned down taking one of her nipples into his mouth, starting to suck on it. While he softly pinched and played with the other. She let out a small moan at him giving her chest love. He switched to the other one, putting it into his mouth, to give it the same treatment as well. Her moans were absolutely stunning. He started to kiss downwards, looking at her as he did so. 

He made his way down to her shorts, he looked at her. Silently asking for her permission before continuing. She gave him a small nod of approval, causing him to start gently unbuttoning her shorts, pulling them down along with her underwear. She lifted up her bottom to give him easy access to take the two garments off. After he took said garments off her he threw them somewhere behind him. He took his shirt off, showing off his broad chest. He took his tattooed hands to her thighs, spreading them gently. 

He looked at her glistening slit, he groaned lowly as he looked at her wetness. He leaned down, licking a stripe from her slit all the way to her clit. She let out a small moan at the pleasure she felt. He suddenly dove in, eating her out like a starved man, making sure to give her clit attention. She was letting out small moans as he ate her out. His thumb rubbing her clit softly. He took his other hand and brought it to her wet heat, sticking two of his fingers gently into her, and started to finger her softly. 

She was letting out moans of pleasure into the room, letting him know it was making her feel so good. “L-Law it feels so g-good baby.~” she moaned out, causing the man to groan. As he continued to finger her, he started to suck on her clit gently. She felt something bubbling inside her, which caused her to move around, moaning out loudly. “L-Law I f-feel weird I f-feel something coming!” She moaned out into the air. “Let it out pretty girl, let it out.” He cooed against her clit, as he fingered her a little faster, curling his fingers as he did so. 

She let out a loud shout of his name as she cummed all over the lower part of Law’s face, coating his goatee in her sweet essence, he drank up all that he could groaning from the sweet taste, he pulled away looking into her eyes, as he licked his lips sexily. Which made the woman let out a small whimper, a small blush adorning her cheeks. 

He stood up, starting to unbuckle his belt, and unbuttoning his pants, he had taken his boots off ahead of time. As he started to pull his pants and underwear down, his hard member springing free, hitting his stomach, she looked at it and her face went even more red. He was huge! How was that gonna fit?! It was long, with a thick girth to it. The bright red tip was leaking precum from it.

He got back onto the bed, taking a hold of his member, as he got in between the woman's legs. She looked intimidated by the size. “I’ll be gentle, I promise. Do you trust me?” He asked her softly, she nodded. As she closed her eyes. “No, no. I want you to look at me sweetheart, look at me.” He spoke gently, causing the woman to open her eyes and look into Law’s grey eyes. “That's a good girl.” He cooed softly, as he started to push into her softly. 

Tears started to spring to her eyes at the discomforting stretch, he was holding her close to him, as he kissed the side of her face gently, trying to distract her as he continued to push into her gently. He stopped as soon as he was all the way in, letting her adjust to his size. He remained holding her close the whole time.

“You can move.” She whispered, he started to slowly thrust into her, being as gentle as possible, because of it being her first time. He settled with gentle thrusting, groaning out as he thrusted into her tight, wet heat. “God, your so tight sweetheart, feels so good around me, pretty girl. Taking me so well.” He cooed softly, praising her as he did so. She was moaning out from the pleasure. 

“A little faster, please Law.” She moaned out, he started to speed up with his thrusting, still remaining gentle as he did so, the bed squeaking underneath the two, as he continued his thrusting, his member hitting her sweet spot each time. She dug her fingers into his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He loved listening to her sweet moans, like music to his ears.

He brought a hand down to her clit, rubbing it as he continued his movements, the head of his member kissing her cervix with each thrust into her, she let out louder moans cause she felt close again, she dug her nails into his back, as she arched her back, letting out a loud moan of the man's name. He felt her squeeze around him, making him groan out. As he continued to thrust sloppily into her, he was close himself.

He suddenly pulled out, his essence spurted onto her stomach, he let out a groan from it. The room was quiet after that, besides the two currently catching their breaths. He stood up from the bed and picked up a clean rag from his laundry, and cleaned her stomach softly, leaning down and kissing her lips softly, after he finished he threw the rag across the room, not caring about where it landed. He laid down next to the woman, bringing her close to him. Kissing the side of her head softly.

“Are you doing okay?” He asked her softly, she nodded into his chest. Nuzzling more into him and taking in his manly scent, she closed her eyes, exhausted from the events that happened. He smiled, kissing the side of her head again, closing his eyes as well. The two lovebirds fall asleep in each other's embrace. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#renwrites #renposts #anime and manga #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar op #one piece #trafalgar law smut

[miraculousmultifan]

stranger things (taylor’s version)

hi there, friends! whether you follow me or came across this post by happenstance, i hope you consider giving me something to write! i’ve decided to host a little prompt fill/request event for myself to get some more writing in, and i thought of this concept.

so here’s the deal: i would like each prompt to include 3 main components.

a character/ship (platonic or otherwise) from stranger things. if it’s something i don’t feel comfortable writing, i’ll reach out to you

a taylor swift song from the prompt list below

a trope or direction you would like to see the fic taken in (ie. post-season 2, soulmate au, fake dating, etc.) i’m not looking for paragraphs here, just a general idea.

MY HARD NO'S:

pedophilia, incest, or rape/non-con

anything with billy

hellcheer (chrissy/eddie) or cheerscoops (chrissy/steve). no hate to y'all, i'm just not comfortable writing it

an example of a prompt that could be given is: nancy wheeler and "the man" set in season 3 with her working at the hawkins post

at the moment, i'm only going to be doing one fic per song, so it's first come first serve with choices. taylor swift has an IMPRESSIVE discography though, so i'm sure you'll find something.

HERE is the prompt list. (if she releases any more music--like reputation tv or taylor swift tv--while i'm still taking prompts, they will be added too lol)

to claim a prompt, SEND ME AN ASK here on tumblr that way it's easier for me to stay organized.

there is no set deadline for this "event". i will stop when every prompt has been filled OR there are no more prompts submitted.

#mira speaks #mira writes #stranger things (taylor's version) #stranger things #taylor swift #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #ronance #robin buckley/nancy wheeler #byler #will byers/mike wheeler #elmax #eleven/max mayfield #lumax #lucas sinclair/max mayfield #will byers/dustin henderson #platonic stobin #stobin #buckingham #chrissy cunningham/robin buckley

[mihrsuri]

unpublished fics game

I got this from @nocompromise-noregrets - thank you friend <3333. I’ve been having a ‘this is cliche, annoying, bad writing and not historically accurate/worse than philippa gregory’ brain crisis so I’m hoping to maybe get my brain started by talking about. So I thought I’d divide into categories.

Really Just Ideas/Outlines At Best

TWW Poly AU - the scandal isn’t the MS (they disclosed that) the ‘scandal’ is the Jed/Abbey/Leo relationship

TWW Ballet AU

The Roger/Chioke ‘worst recognises worst but Roger is absolutely playing him like a master musician’

The Plantaganet OT4 AU

The Multifandom Sex Slave AU (set in sort of fantasy Rome)

Persian Jewish Sara Crewe

Robert Dudley Travels Back In Time

TWW characters + trauma survivors

TWW Hunger Games: Abby’s Games

Multifandom Sex Slavery AU

Specific Tudors OT3 Verse Ones (That Are Just Ideas)

Helen Norwich

Dance Rehearsal

Tudors OT3 Verse Ships + Taylor Swift

English Civil War

The Crows Have Cameos

The Big Ones (that actually have stuff published)

Grishaverse Hunger Games: I wrote summaries of all the characters journeys and I wanted to go into detail - I have Jespers and I’m working on Kaz right now (he is very difficult to get talking). It’s taking the fact that the Crows and My Favourites From Shadow And Bone know each other and became friends and made me think - all these different Victors coming together to become family and also take down some fuckers (mostly Darkles)

Rewrite The Stars 2.0: I’m rewriting the first Tudors OT3 verse fic because it was only meant as a one shot and I have so so much more world building and ideas to write. I’m just stuck right now because (see above). It’s a fairy tale with a happy ending but it has a fight, it has pain and it has scars that will remain heavy but also, there will be love.

In another world this is how it might have gone between the three of them. The story of how the love between three extraordinary people change the world for the better and made it the kindest. The story of a fight for a fairytale

Crown Of Ashes:

Crown of Ashes is very inspired by the Taylor Swift Song Castle Crumbling. It’s a ‘what if Mary Tudor made similar choices to her father’ for better (and worse and maybe in between) reasons to her. What if everything the world tells you you should believe and want is wrong actually - what if you get everything you thought you wanted and it sucks.

This one. I know where I want to go, I’m just Not Getting There. I think I need to listen to the playlist again.

Tortall Found Family: Essentially this is about Numair/Arram coming to Tortall, heavy on the Jon-Thayet-Numair friendship but everyone is here, my absolute conviction that Ozorne never stopped loving Numair throughout all the books, that Roger had a really creepy possessive thing for Jon and also BONDING. Also contains Biracial Jon of Conte content (I think).

I’m going to quote from @nocompromise-noregrets here: Do please ask me about any that catch your eye, I am in dire need of talking about them, and it might just kickstart the muses…I do need interaction to spark the ideas, it turns out, I'm not great at this in isolation.

Tagging (if you want to obviously): @boleynqueenes @boleynecklace @theladyelizabeth @jackironsides @emilykaldwen @miabicicletta @unseenacademic @sherwoodknights @corporalicent @dr-dendritic-trees @endoftheworldhere @cinemaocd

#meme #lil and her ridiculous aus #ot3: political power trio

[fragileruns]

mia’s summer celebration!

since i’m finally out of classes for the summer (as of 12pm tomorrow), i’ll have more time to focus on my writing and i really want to get some things out there for you all :) so please pick a prompt below, and give me all the information needed and i’ll get to working on it!

REQUEST HERE!!

CRUEL SUMMER. send me any character i write for (listed on my pinned post) and an au (e.g, rockstar!sirius, spiderman!spencer, etc), a plot, and a genre (e.g, fluff, angst, etc) and i’ll write a blurb for you!

DANCING QUEEN. send me any character, a plot, a genre, and any details you’d like for me to know and i’ll write a blurb or fic for you!

WHAT A FEELING. typical tumblr games! send me would you rather, fmk, etc etc and i’ll respond to your ask accordingly.

CANYON MOON. send me any character and a time (e.g, 3:22AM, 7:30AM, 10:28PM) and a general plot and i’ll write a blurb based off of it!

TONGUE TIED. tell me a few facts about yourself and i’ll tell you fictional characters i would ship you with! if you’d like to include specific fandoms you like, please do.

SUMMERTIME SADNESS. send me some facts about yourself and i’ll tell you fictional characters i think you kin! if you’d like to include specific fandoms you like, please do.

TAYLOR’S VERSION. send me a song (specifically by one of the artists below, so i can be sure i actually know it) and/or lyrics, a character, and i’ll write a blurb for you based off of it. feel free to give a general plot.

artists — taylor swift, hozier, noah kahan, phoebe bridgers, the lumineers, abba, etc. you can def request an artist, i just cant promise i’ll know them well enough to write a fic :)

#james potter x reader #marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #warren rojas x reader #graham dunne x reader #billy dunne x reader #steve harrington x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader #derek morgan x reader #chad meeks martin x reader #ethan landry x reader #stu macher x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x reader #amber freeman x reader #abby littman x reader #emily prentiss x reader #karen sirko x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #finnick o’dair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #jj maybank x reader #pope heyward x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #kaz brekker x reader

[on-my-contrarian-sh1t]

– DROP EVERYTHING NOW ! speak now (taylor’s version) celebration

note ! i’m so excited for speak now (taylor’s version)! speak now has been one of my favorite albums ever since i became a swiftie and i can’t believe it’s finally getting it’s spotlight. in honor of speak now (mom’s version), i decided to do a celebration. please read the rules before sending in asks. congratulations @taylorswift, i’m so proud of you, mom!

rules ! do not send in anything 18+! i’m a minor and if you do send in anything 18+, i will report/block you. respect my right to refuse any asks. ! i’m on my way to become more active but i’m still getting there! i may not get to all my asks quickly or in an ideal amount of time but i will try my best. please be patient. ! please be positive! !

fandoms ! swifties ! marvel ! marauders ! stranger things ! cobra kai ! the secret history ! the summer i turned pretty ! little women ! the two faces of january ! (i’m in lots so if you’re curious, ask me before sending in an ask)

celebration + mutuals ! under the cut.

nav. ! this celebration lasts from 7.6.23 to 7.13.23

mine (taylor’s version) ! for track one on speak now (taylor’s version), to honor the album finally being hers, let’s talk about it! tell me your theories for new releases and music collaborations and/or things you would like to see such as albums and collaborations. sparks fly (taylor’s version) ! MOOTS ONLY ! send me this and i’ll make a playlist for you. back to december (taylor’s version) ! i adore this song. you know what else i adore? headcanons! send me some headcanons and i’ll add to them. speak now (taylor’s version) ! this is possibly my favorite song on this album. tell me your favorite song on this album + your character of choice and i’ll write a blurb for you. dear john (taylor’s version) ! this song makes me feel a lot of emotions that i’ll refrain from sharing. instead, you share an unpopular opinion with me and i’ll share one with you. it can be about anything; food, places, pop culture, anything! mean (taylor’s version) ! i love this song so much and it holds so much nostalgia for me. send me a fandom or a character and i’ll make a moodboard for them. the story of us (taylor’s version) ! send me a bit about you + a character and i’ll write a fic for you. never grow up (taylor’s version) ! this song makes me cry. send me a sad song (or any song of choice!) and i’ll make a moodboard for it. enchanted (taylor’s version) ! MOOTS ONLY ! i’m enchanted to be mutuals with all of you! send me this and i’ll write (type) you a love letter. better than revenge (taylor’s version) ! now, go stand in the corner and think about what you did! send me a prompt (nothing smutty. fluff or angst) + a song + a character and i’ll write a fic for it. innocent (taylor’s version) ! send me a song and i’ll make an aesthetic photo edit of it. haunted (taylor’s version) ! send me a taylor swift music video + a song and i’ll make a video edit of it. last kiss (taylor’s version) ! send me a bit about you + a fandom + gender pref and i’ll ship you with a character. long live (taylor’s version) ! MOOTS ONLY ! send me this and i’ll make a moodboard that i think matches your aesthetic. BONUS: from the vault + deluxe ! cym with any tumblr game; cym, fmk, etc. etc.!

mutuals <3 (my version) ! @whenjasfallsinlove @speaknow-pdf @punkix @until-i-found-you @faerie-of-fallen-dreams @stripesysheaven @loverliner @yougavemeroses13 @omg-yeonjun-so-handsome @indecisive-behaviors @steveharringtonscarkeys @munsonsreputation @maddipoof @siriusownsmyheart @exilelines @meredarling @steveslittlesunflower @fujiihime @puppy-coded @ell0ra-br3kk3r @spring-picnics @lazydreamer19

#cleo talks <3 #cleo's celebration asks <3 #cleo's celebration <3 #speak now #sntv #speak now taylors version #taylors version #taylor swift

[downn-in-flames]

kanej/soc fic masterlist

needed a new pinned post so here goes:

big reputations cinematic universe

big reputations [wip]

the crows in their senior year at ketterdam university as the dramatic (and often drunk) little shits they are. a chatfic that has spiraled wildly out of my hands, the crows are in charge now.

↳ high above the whole scene [wip]

prose content from big reputations to fill in the gaps.

↳ caught up in a moment [wip]

more prose content from big reputations to fill in the gaps, but this time it’s all just kanej spicy moments because people keep requesting them and i am more than happy to oblige.

↳ i want your midnights [2.2k words]

prose content from big reputations, but just new year’s eve and also it was a collaborative thing.

↳ forever with your hands in my pockets [wip, helnik]

the big reputations helnik origin story.

↳ just wrong enough to make it feel right [wip, zoyalai]

zoya and nikolai as moot court partners in law school, also vaguely set in the brcu.

multi-chapters

treacherous [30 chapters, 25.3k words]

flashes of kaz and inej’s relationship over the years, in the choose your own adventure style of ‘do i read this in the order of the song lyrics or chronologically.’ 98% fluff.

↳ begin again [2.5k words]

somehow treacherous prompted kanej babyfic.

midnights [13 chapters, 16.4k words]

another set of kanej flashes that can be read in two different orders, this time written pre-midnights release with only the track names to determine the vibes. slightly less but still mostly fluff.

↳ midnights (3am edition) [7 chapters, 8.2k words]

midnights scenes (or adjacent scenes) told from different povs. expect three gut punches.

↳ midnights (the late night edition) [1k words]

one final midnights fic because obviously i had to write one for ‘you’re losing me.’

one-shots

carry your baggage up my street [4.8k words]

kanej is renegade by the national and taylor swift. change my mind. (you won’t).

castles crumbling [2.9k words]

kanej baby but make it hurt just a little.

come morning light, you and i’ll be safe and sound [3.4k words]

kaz and inej have enemies, they’re each other’s protectors, and both of them deserve some damn decent sleep.

die for you in secret [5.3k words]

a 5+1 in which kaz keeps all his soft thoughts close to his chest until finally he doesn’t.

forever is the sweetest con [2 chapters, 3.6k words]

there’s a wedding for tax incentive purposes. kaz sends jesper through the entire range of human emotion in the span of approximately 10 minutes, purely for shits and giggles. now with bonus inej content.

i could be the way forward only if they pay for it [1.1k words]

kaz buys a ship. for reasons.

keep your brittle heart warm [2.1k words]

kaz reveals his true tell. once upon a time this was baby’s first kanej fic. now look where that got us.

the end of a movie i’ve seen before [3.3k words]

a modern au and the final result of ‘i wonder if i can gaslight readers twice in one fic.’ also the only non-taylor swift title of them all.

what if i told you i’m a mastermind [5k words]

another modern au in which kaz schemes to win over inej, failing to realize that he is not in fact the one pulling the strings here. 

wishing for right now [1.1k words]

genuinely obscene levels of cottagecore fluff.

you had some tricks up your sleeve [2.6k words]

inej wears silks and gets a new knife. that’s really all that matters.

#what's wild is that some of these extremely bad summaries #are still somehow better than the summaries i used for them on ao3 #kanej #kanej fic #kanej fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #six of crows fic #six of crows fanfiction #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fic

[kiki-shortsnout]

People you'd like to get to kno better!

Thank you to @illicien for the tag ❤️

Three ships:  Tony/Stephen/Loki, James Kirk/ Spock, Tony/Stephen

First ship: I think it might have been Kai/Rei from Beyblade many many moons ago… or maybe it was Aragorn/Legolas?🤣

Last song: Snow On The Beach, by Taylor Swift and Lana Del Rey, I’m using it as inspiration for the fic I’m writing at the moment!

Last film: Evangelion 3.0 + 1.0 Thrice Upon A Time…. I’ll be honest, I got a little bit confused at this movie, which is a shame as I love Evangelion!

Currently reading: I’ve literally just finished reading Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone Trilogy, and I’ve just borrowed The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E Schwab. I like to read before bed, so I’m looking forward to starting that tonight!

Currently craving: Cake, chocolate anything with sugar in. I’m doing a challenge this month where I’ve given up sugar for January and it’s so hard! I’ve eaten so much fruit to compensate!😢

Favorite color: Yellow, but I’m quite taken with purple.

Last thing googled: An address in Mexico for work, but before that it was sexy masquerade masks, again for the story I’m writing.

Current obsession: Still FrostIronStrange/ IronStrange, but I’m looking into writing more Kirk/Spock fics after I’ve finished my current long one! I’m also obsessed with collecting pins at the moment!

Tagging @the-elle-kat @thespacecryptid @tales-of-magic-and-chaos @magicaltear @hyuksgirlelf And anyone else that wants to play!

#tag game #People you want to know better #Please talk to me it's a very slow Wednesday

[il-predestinato]

Elle, yes! I’m glad you’re doing this! But you know what? Let‘s ignore the numbers and write us a small lestappen fic about the first Taylor Swift song on your spotify wrapped playlist instead! ❤️

"All Too Well (10 minute version)" by Taylor Swift; pairing - lestappen & brocedes

'Cause there we are again on that little town street You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me Wind in my hair, I was there I remember it all too well

Hey Stina! Yeah... it ended up being a little longer than 5 sentences and 1 more ship than you requested. 🤣

Read on AO3.

send me an ask with a number between 1 and 100 and I'll write a 5ish sentence fic inspired by that song on my 2022 wrapped playlist!

#lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen #brocedes #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #lestappen fic #brocedes fic #f1 rpf #* #my fic #elle.ask #stina tag

[laserswordtraining]

Nine fandom folks to get to know better <3

Thanks @00queasy00 for the tag! 🫶 and I’m tagging if you wish to join in sharing:

@2sidesofthesamesoul @liquidluckandstuff @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts @screamingmandrakes @catjar91 @chaos-bear @moontearpensfic @isalisewrites @penrot

Top 3 ships:

1) Harrymort!!!!

2) Drarry

3) Snarry?? Harry/Bucky?? Or Wolfstar? Or Prongsfoot? Or Jegulus? (I hardly read anything different)

First ever ship:

Hehe, so remember when Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons was a thing??? I shipped Jack Frost and Rapunzel, absolutely. In fact hang on, I would jump right back into reading those fics if I was sent one with good writing 😅

Currently reading:

In willing sacrifice!!!(im almost caught up ahhhh)

The importance of Charming Draco Malfoy

Property of the half blood prince - just starting!

Currently Watching:

Hannibal, School Spirits, House MD, doctor who♾️, Steven universe♾️, Abbott Elementary

Last song listened to:

Breathe by Taylor swift ( all of the fearless cd in my car during lunch) (it was also one of my surprise songs when I saw the concert last June)

Currently consuming:

A donut from Dunkin and an energy drink

Currently craving:

More time on my lunch break, and good sunny weather

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#I did this during my lunch hour lol #but it was drafted till i could tag ppl #so here #have this #also in addition; currently writing a Harry Potter-Star wars fic bc Harry believes he’s like Luke and Voldemort’s like Darth Vader #lasers speak now #ask games

[unrequitedloveletter]

All right! This post is something that’s been a long time in the making. I hit 500 followers early last month, and I’ve been trying to figure out a cool way to celebrate ever since. 

This is what I came up with! Requests for this are open until the 29th and will probably start coming out at the beginning of next week, with the latest I can think that the first one would come out being around next wednesday. 

The characters to whom this applies are the same as usual! Nikolai, Alina, Mal, and Zoya as far as Shadow and Bone goes, and Kaz, Inej, Jesper, Nina and Matthias as far as Six of Crows is concerned. Pin Hawthorne of Free Rein is included in this as well, as he always is. As for characters that I don’t normally attach to my events, we have Aaron Warner and Kenji Kishimoto from the Shatter Me series!

CONCERT LINEUP

TAYLOR SWIFT

invisible string- pick a verse, bridge, or chorus from any taylor swift song. Provide a character, and I’ll write a mini-song fic/blurb with each paragraph based off of each lyric sent in. Multiple verses, bridges or choruses can be sent in but to keep the fics relatively short, I ask that, per request, you don’t send in more than three. 

paper rings- weddings!! give me a character. a rough word count (10k is the most I’m willing to write, but if you want the fic to be a longer one, specifics are heavily recommended) and where you would want to get married if you were to get married! You can also tell me if you want it to be next level angst or to have the fluff scale turned up to eleven. Provide whatever specifics you want, and along with the fic, you’ll get a moodboard! You can mention if you want the moodboard to replace whatever gif I use as a fic header, but if you want it at the bottom of the fic and for me to include the gif anyway, just let me know!

lavender haze- AUS! You can pretty much pick any AU or combination of AUs that you want, be it a royalty au combined with your selection of the thousands of soulmate aus that people have come up with or a modern au with a coffeeshop au thrown in there! Anything is fair game, as long as you provide me with a character and whatever other specifics you can think to include. I’ll write three thousand words for this one, so again, the more specifics, the better!

long story short- all right! This one will be a fic set like, 5-10 years in the future! Flashback scenes can be included if you want them to be but if not, the past that got the characters to where they are will be discussed a bit through internal monologuing. This one is pretty much just up to the requester. The plot is your choice, the character is your choice, even the genre is your choice. everything is up to you and for the third time, the more specifics you add, the better!

message in a bottle- ships and moodboards! send in a brief description of yourself, your gender and fandom pref, and an activity you think would make a fun date night, and I’ll ship you with someone! 

CONAN GRAY

lookalike- this is the hurt/comfort freebie! give me a character, a hurt/comfort prompt or idea of your choosing, and a word count (for this one, the max I’ll write is 5k) 

fight or flight- headcanon freebie! Give me an idea you have that you want me to write headcanons for

the cut that always bleeds- this is the conan gray version of the invisible string prompt. Give me a verse, bridge, or chorus of any of conans songs and I’ll write an angst fic using that, with one paragraph for every lyric in each stanza. In the interest of keeping these fics short, I ask that you only send three stanzas per request

the story- long fics! These ones can take place at random points throughout different years in the characters lives, and they can follow pretty much any plotline! Want me to write a slowburn that runs across a decade or two? want me to show how the characters lives would progress throughout the run of five years or maybe a relationship a year before it begins, as it develops, and a year after something like a proposal or marriage? Theres a lot of potential for plots here, it’s entirely up to the requester! These fics tend to run a bit longer and the shortest I could see myself making one is 5k, with a max word count of 15k, so be mindful that these will likely run a bit on the longer side and thus, take me a bit more time to complete

grow- songs and moodboards! for this one, just drop this prompt into my inbox and tell me that it’s from this event, and I’ll make a moodboard based on how I percieve you/your aesthetic, or I’ll give you a list of like, ten songs that remind of me of you or that I think you would probably enjoy! (moots only) 

PHOEBE BRIDGERS

funeral- this one is the MCD freebie. Drop this one into my inbox if you want me to write some angst involving the death of a character of your choice

killer- this is AU’s but with an angsty twist of your choosing! Soulmate AU’s with near-death experiences, right person right time but with an unexpected twist that throws things off completely? Pick and AU and an angst trope and give me a character for this one. 

moon song- phoebe bridgers version of the invisible string and the cut that always bleeds prompts. Pick any chorus, verse, or bridge from any song by phoebe bridgers, and I’ll write a mini songfic with it. Again, in the interest of keeping the requests short, I ask that you send no more than three stanzas per request. 

punisher (copycat killer version)- this one, in contrast to the rest of the phoebe bridgers prompts, is a bit more on the hurt/comfort side. For this one, give me any prompt that you want! My only ask is that, if you take the prompt from another account, you credit them in your request, and that you keep the prompt within the realms of hurt/comfort or angst. Send in a character for this one, and I’ll write a thousand words for it. 

waiting room- this one is the painful angst freebie! Make it hurt, make it hard hitting. Have Character A watch Character B almost die. Make it as painful as you want, and with this one, the more specific you can be, the better! Depending on how much you include, these ones may also run a little on the longer side (3-7k as a minimum, 10-14k as a max) 

-

mutual tags: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @thebestieyoureinlovewith​ 

#alina starkov x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #mal oretsev x reader #zoya nazyalensky x reader #kaz brekker x reader #inej ghafa x reader #jesper fahey x reader #nina zenik x reader #matthias helvar x reader #aaron warner x reader #kenji kishimoto x reader #alina starkov #nikolai lantsov #mal oretsev #zoya nazyalensky #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #matthias helvar #shatter me #the shatter me series #six of crows #shadow and bone

[dewdropreader]

WIP Folder Tag Game

The lovely @insert-witty-user-name-here has tagged me because she knows the absolutely unhinged amount of WIPs in various stages that I have lol. But I also love sharing them out of context and talking about them because that often motivates me so here we go! And thank you!

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents (or as many people as you want). Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!'

I went in rough order from most recently created/worked on to older ones so you can see how at some point I just stopped counting my found family and general “Time Crew” based ideas because I lost track lmao.

Sleeping around untrustworthy people 5+1

Gator Pres Reconciliation

Cat chapter 8

Prayer TC

Collapse TC

God of Outcasts Returning

Found Family- Frost Giants

Hugsssss 5+1

Big Sister Sylvie

Do you have a better plan—(the original Drabble is done and posted but there is a part two WIP in the same doc!)

TC- Ghosts

Found family- Guilt

Freeze- TC

Protective- TC

Birthdays- TC

Love Letters- TC

TC- Restored

TC- Playground

Time Crew Fic 9- Void Road Trip

Touch Starved TC

TC Reassuring

TC Unfairness

A few I have mentioned before ina few tag games like this because some have festered in WIP hell for that long 😅 though I’m not including every single much older one, just a few of my favorites and/or ones that actually have something there to work on! But for any new people/people who didn’t see these!!

Sylvie and Peggy Vs the End of the World

Sylkius Christmas

Loki Found Family 5- Boastful

Found Family 8- Kid and Genderfluidity

TC- Kitchen Sink

And a few I haven’t made documents for but I have little notes made about them in one larger document called “All Loki Ideas” where I compile them and highlight different colors based on if they’re done or in progress or new/untouched ideas and organized by category or ship so if I have a particular person/ship I want to write but no solid idea I can go hunting lol. Some descriptions are all I have and others I just put in the first sentence and there is more!

Loki waking up with a nightmare/panic about Mobius not knowing him, and Mobius helping him calm down and reassuring him that he knows and loves him

Exploring the deep empathy and attempts at understanding Mobius felt when having to go through Loki’s life

Lokius inspired by songs/lyrics (there are lyric snippets and/or actual ideas for most of these if anyone is curious! Also yes there is a lot of Taylor Swift, sue me 😅)

Superman-Taylor Swift

Cardigan-Taylor Swift

Happy endings are stories that haven’t ended yet- mayday parade

London boy- Taylor swift

The man who can’t be moved-the script

When the day met the night- panic at the disco

The joker and the queen- ed sheeran

New Year’s Day- Taylor Swift

Delicate- Taylor swift

I’m yours- the script

Haunted- Taylor swift

Loki having a nightmare about Sylvie (and Mobius?) dying, and having to contend with it

Lokius reunion (this was noted before s2 even came out but hey guess it circled back to being relevant 😭)

Mobius and Loki (and Sylvie?) moving into a home together and having small domestic moments like having a “picnic” on the floor

Drunk Sylkius- Sylvie and Loki drunk and arguing about who’s more hedonistic

Drunk Sylkius- Folksy Dope fan club with sylvie and loki goofing off and praising and gushing over Mobius

B-15 and Sylvie spending time together, sorting out feelings

C-20 and Sylvie growing closer after she is rescued

If any of these are interesting to you, and you want to know more/see a snippet (if one exists!) please let me know, I love rambling about all of these ideas and sometimes talking about them gives more inspiration! 💕

Certainly will double tag some people (and am going to tag the originator in her own game lol bc I also want to see her stuff!) but that’s expected from me!

@insert-witty-user-name-here @starport-seven-five @mirilyawrites @lgwilt @dreamycloud @cha-melodius @blackbirdofasgard @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @nostalgia-tblr @bushs-world @queen-of-meows

And anyone else who would like to share!!

#loki #lokius #sylkius #fanfic #fanfiction #WIPs #wip ask game #loki found family #loki series #mobius m mobius #lokius fanfic #ao3 author

[idontgetanysleep]

thanks for the tag @wolffegirlsunite ! <3

1. ride or die ship (your otp): padme x anakin (ik he is toxic as fuck brother!!), or codywan because cute

2. most annoying ship: ahsoka x rex or anakin x rex, i just don’t see them as anything other than like siblings so it freaks me out, also i just can’t see anakin with anyone other than padme because that boy is OBSESSED (sorry if you like these ships they just aren’t my thing)

3. second favourite ship: tech x phee, i’m not even a tech girly but i just absolutely adore their dynamic

4. favourite platonic relationship: AHSOKA AND REX, i love their sibling like relationship sm, a close second is cody and rex they are the besties of the GAR and i love it, also omega and wrecker bc they are adorable

5. underrated ship: obi x satine, bly x aayla

6. overrated ship: reylo

7. one thing i would change in canon: cody being in the kenobi series 😐 (like he was fucking suppose to be!)

8. something canon did right: the entirety of the clone wars, but specifically showing how mistreated clones are and not just brushing it off as “they love war! they were made for it!😃” like how it is in the prequels, i love how the clone wars shows the process of the clones realizing they are more than what they were programmed to do, the whole shifting from clone troopers to storm troopers in tbb is something i also think canon did right because it is so important in the history of the empire, and i love how they are showing a bit of how the clone troopers are helping each other after all these years of just helping their superiors (they are finally fighting for each other!)

9. a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom PLEASE BRAG ABOUT YOURSELF I WANT TO SEE/READ YOUR ART: my wallpapers! specifically the cowboy mando set i just uploaded :) i’m really proud of how they came out

10. a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): rex, cody, jesse, kix, fives, echo, wolffe, hunter, howzer, gregor, mayday, etc…(LITERALLY ANY CLONE, IM NOT KIDDING) but also ahsoka, din djarrin, and chuchi too

11. the character i relate to the most and why: ahsoka probably, just growing up a certain way and realizing it isn’t right and leaving it behind you\having almost no one from that past family listen (that was kinda deep, my b)

12. character(-s) i hate the most and why: palpatine, tarkin, that mf that didn’t help mayday, PONG KRELL! i feel like the reasons are obvious

13. something i've learned from the fandom: it’s okay to be entirely invested in star wars! i get a lot of shit for being a die hard star wars fan but then i come on here and feel safe about it :)

14. three tags i seek out on ao3: i don’t have ao3 💔 i read all my fics on here because i love you writers <3

15. a song i strongly associate with my op/favourite character:

favorite character: rex

song: epiphany - taylor swift

no pressure tags! @starrylothcat @arctrooper69 @techorgana @blueink-bluesoul @cloneloverrrrr @dukeoftheblackstar @sunkissedclones @freesia-writes

if you have already participated ignore the tag!

if you want to join in and aren’t tagged pls do! and tag me!

#tag post #h interacts #h likes to share music

[keira-kaz2y5]

Hi! Welcome to my blog, everyone is welcome!

I don’t write fics but I love to read them <3

My name is Keira, I’m female (she/her), bisexual

and I’m currently studying music at college. I’m British and have strong Welsh heritage 💪🏼🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿, but I was born and brought up in England.

I’m currently obsessed with: The Rookie, Marauders, 9-1-1 (& 911 Lone Star), Marvel, X-Men, Good Omens, Supernatural, Doctor Who (2005-2024), Sherlock, Criminal Minds, Merlin, Percy Jackson series, Outer Banks, Agents of SHIELD and Moon Knight

I’m a musician in training so feel free to ask any questions!

My biggest ships: Buddie (9-1-1), WolfStar, Destiel, JohnLock, Merthur

Films I love: Atonement, Dead Poet’s Society, Little Women, Hamilton, Hacksaw Ridge, Nowhere Boy, Knives Out, Gifted, Tick Tick BOOM!

Top artists are Noah Kahan & Taylor Swift

But I really love Hozier, Dermot Kennedy, Billie Eilish, Reneé Rapp, Lizzy McAlpine, Gracie Abrams and Mumford & Sons

I listen to lots of genres but my main would be indie, folk/alternative, pop, soul and rock.

I especially love when every now and then I’ll find a fanfic like Loki x pianist!reader or rockstar!marauders fic and stuff. As a pianist myself I love this and would love to see it represented, so I am more than happy for u guys that are writers (or just curious) to ask me about this like the industry, or live sound (I’ve seen on tiktok lately people thinking every performer has a metronome in their monitors, this isn’t always correct, there’s a lot more to it) or even all the jobs you take on within the industry like session musicians, library musicians etc.. so I’ll quite happily answer questions or help people out if they plan on writing fics with musicians as main characters or au’s so please please please don’t hesitate to ask! I go all nerdy for this stuff I think it’s pretty cool

Thanks for finding my page and reading all of this, if you got to the bottom, thank you so much I love you <33

Have a great week babes xx

For anyone interested, I’m on a Pop Music course and I’m study the music industry in business classes, with theory (boring as hell) classes too and I have recording sessions, music history & context lessons and on Fridays we have perfomance workshop, where we pick a song to learn in the morning and practice with a band or solo or whatever is needed, then by the end of the day we have an hour of tech set up and then we perform it to the rest of the people on the course. It’s a lot of fun but hard work, we have tech students doing live sound and someone from tech doing the lighting and stuff. Feel free to ask me any questions about it!

My posts:

Buddie 911 s7 theory/reaction https://www.tumblr.com/keira-kaz2y5/743347204314497024/i-know-no-one-will-read-this-but-omfg-so-today-i

Harry Potter marauders fancast rant https://www.tumblr.com/keira-kaz2y5/723047186541232128/jkr-can-fight-me

Tumblr did a thing

Happy news

#about me #bisexual #lesbian #buddie #destiel #taylor swift #marauders #superwholock #musician #x musician!reader #pianist #studying music #live sound #ask me anything #911 abc #gay #Loki #Bucky #Wanda #kate bishop #black widow