bradyssmashwagon

[bradyssmashwagon]

part of what i love about buckbucky is they both fall under the category of very charming on the surface but if even a little of that paint flakes off or you get them in the right situation (drunk on a plane wing; watching a fist fight with homoerotic, violent intensity) it’s clear there’s something so wrong with them

[bradyssmashwagon]

literally his most Boyfriend look. and he went to be with austin

[bradyssmashwagon]

[bradyssmashwagon]

Austin Butler as Vernon Jefferson Peak

[the tattoos, the eye contact]

[bradyssmashwagon]

“The God’s honest truth is that I ain’t ever gonna love again. She’s your true north. I know what that means, because you’re mine.”

[bradyssmashwagon]

[bradyssmashwagon]

this i will do - chapter ten

10. always on my mind

Pairing: John Egan x Gale Cleven x OC

Note: warnings for extended description of a panic attack, and of a violent, past SA

masterlist

Dinner was a tense affair that evening. They'd been gone so long that everyone else had eaten, and there were just three bowls waiting on the table, cold and uninviting. She took a seat at the table, stewing on how furious she was at Bucky, and didn't wait for anyone to tell her the food was hers before digging her spoon in. Buck had come in right on her heel and set his hand on the back of her chair as he too dug in, making sure to thank Benny for cooking.

Violet had been starving, but she only got three bites in before Bucky entered the room and her desire to eat vanished. She glared at him, spoon half way to her mouth, and made a split second decision to drop her spoon and shove the bowl in Buck's direction. "I'm not hungry actually, Buck," she said, venom dripping from her tone as she kept her eyes locked onto Bucky's. "Dunno why but I guess I lost my appetite." She took a mean satisfaction in the hurt that coloured Bucky's features then.

Buck tried to get her to eat after that, but Violet's anger won out against her hunger, and she took a little bit of pride in every wince that crossed Bucky's face when he caught the sharp jibes she threw his way. "No, Buck, there's plenty of mouths to feed. No point me being a burden on you all if I ain't hungry."

She retreated to bed before long, despite her hair still being wet. She wanted to lick her wounds in peace, and it was getting difficult to keep up any type of pretence in front of Buck when he'd been the one to hold her as she'd sobbed in the showers. It didn't take her long to pass out. She'd trained herself well in those weeks after Buck and Bucky got shot down, had conditioned herself to tune out the sounds of her fellow nurses' chatting and laughing well before they turned out the lights, could be asleep in no time at all.

Her sleep, like always, was restless. Solace couldn't be found in her dreams. She was stumbling through an endless forest, a thicket of barbed wire tearing into the soles of her bare feet. Whenever she looked back, there was a man chasing her. She couldn't see his face, but could see the red band on the grey of his uniform. She could hear his mean laughter over the blood rushing through her ears.

A thick rope caught painfully around her foot, slamming her down onto her parachute. A bed of thorns ripped shreds through the slippery material and her hands bled as she scrambled across the surface. A hand on the back of her thigh twisted her suddenly onto her back. The man crawled over her, a victorious grin splitting his face. The thorns pierced her flesh holding her in place by her wrists, the palms of her hands, her ankles. He leaned down, spit glistening on his teeth, a strong hand wrapping around her throat. With his fingers choking bruises into her skin, his face shuttered into view.

First, he was the guard in the stalag who'd singled her out, who curled his lip at her like she was the dirt beneath his boot. Then, his features morphed into those of her rapist, the cold look in his eyes as he'd taken her chilling her to her core. She blinked, and suddenly it was Haussmann, still wearing that smug smile he wore as he broke her down. He squeezed his fingers tight and her vision darkened.

His grip loosened and she heaved in a painful breath. Her vision swam clearer. Blonde darkened. His face lengthened. His nose grew. His hair curled.

The feeling flooded back into her legs and she kicked wildly, her hand clapping over his taut wrist, eyes bulging, mouth bobbing. "Bu-Bucky-" she stammered.

"Lettie."

That was not the voice of her Bucky. She blinked and his features sharpened, revealing the face of the man who she once expected to become her husband.

She froze, "No-"

All at once his fist crushed ever tighter, wringing her neck like a wet rag. He leaned in so close that she could see the scar she'd given him once, a little silver line across his chin that never healed. His breath burned her cheek as he bared his teeth at her. "Hey, sugar," Daniel drawled, "They'll never have you like I did." He spat, giving her once last squeeze before dropping her, and Violet fell down, down, down into the abyss.

She awoke with a start, bolting upright in her bed and crashing her head into the bunk above. Pain split across her forehead, and on instinct, she bit a pained yelp into her fist.

Violet jumped when she heard her name, a panicked cry coming from the lips of another, woken by her commotion. A broad body was crowding into her space, chest rising and falling in heaving breaths, clothes ruffled and blanket around his legs in the haste of throwing himself down from the bunk.

She flinched so hard she could feel a molten pain in her neck when it snapped back, "Don't-"

"What happened?" he hurried out. When she chanced a look at his face, it was Bucky. It was Bucky. His eyes were blown wide, an unreadable look of horror across his features. He was leaning into her bunk, hands reading out to her as if he could cure whatever it was that ailed her. Whatever he said to her then was drowned out by the sudden alarm outside, blaring out across the compounds like air raid sirens, lost in the swill of morphing features rippling over his face. Her throat pulsed.

"Everybody out! Schnell!" The guards were shouting outside, dogs barking by their heels, fists pounding on the windows. The small room was suddenly filled with light, and a series of groans droned as the boys woke up and rolled out of bed, slipping their feet into boots and shoving photos, cigarettes, postcards into their coat pockets. They did it with a speed that could only come from practice.

Buck was up before any of them, shrugging his jacket on and making straight for Buck. "We should've guessed this was comin'," he said, eyes alert as he scanned the room. They passed over her almost mechanically, and Violet wondered if this is what he looked like as he flew his fort across a field of flak, a mask of calm concealing the terror that plagued them all.

Bucky pulled away from her, rising to his full height so that he could mutter something to Buck. The blond's eyes flickered towards her, and he nodded. "I got it, Bucky," he said in response.

Bucky clenched his jaw, taking a deep, laboured breath before nodding at Buck and turning to the room. "Up and at 'em, boys!" he started hollering, clapping his hands together like a sheep-herder rounding up his flock, "You know the drill!"

"What's going on?" Violet asked, snapping Buck and Bucky's attention towards her. She was still in a daze, the nightmare never ending.

"Surprise appell," Buck told her, "Late night roll call."

Violet jumped at the sound of the front door being thrown open. Angry German voices filled the hall. They were coming for her. Haussmann, the stalag guard, Daniel...Siegert. She shuffled back and hit the wall. There was nowhere to go.

The speed at which everyone was moving terrified her. Outside, there was an uproar of noise, footsteps, dogs barking, guards shouting, men calling to one another. She could hear the drumming of movement down the hall, men from the other rooms making their way outside faster than the guards could come in to get them moving. They knew what it meant to disobey. Violet didn't, although she could certainly guess. But her hands were stuck to the bed like they'd been frozen, and she couldn't bring herself to move until Buck started tugging her off of the bed.

And suddenly, she was back in that farmhouse, pants around her ankles as she frantically crawled away from him on the bed. Siegert just laughed, gripped her ankles, uncaring of the burn across her leg, and yanked her back down the bed.

"We gotta get going, Vi," Buck was saying when she returned to the present, "Don't want 'em sniffing around in here." He was buttoning up her jacket with shaking fingers.

"Why?" Violet stammered, "What did I do wrong?"

She almost missed the way Bucky's head swung over to look at her immediately, and he abandoned whatever his task was to listen to her.

Buck looked at her with a wary look in his eyes.

She clung to him all of a sudden, fingers twisting desperately into his jacket, "Don't let them, Buck. I didn't even do anything this time!" she was close to sobbing. She couldn't face another punishment from German soldiers. Face down in the dirt beneath a cloudy, starless sky. A boot pressed into her back when she tried to get up. Morderin! they'd called her. Murderer. A soldier's revenge.

"Buck, we gotta get out of here now, Krauts are about to come a knockin'," Bucky was saying.

"I know, John," Buck replied, tone desperate.

Violet pushed Buck away then, with all of her might. He stumbled back, shocked at the sudden assault. "No!" Violet shouted, "I'm not going out there!"

Her foot caught on something and all of a sudden her world tilted as she fell backwards. A strong pair of arms caught her around her middle, but not fast enough, and she ended up landing on Bucky, the pair of them crashing to the floor whilst Buck watched on in horror, unable to decipher what had happened.

“Jesus Christ, Vi!” Bucky cried as his hipbone collided with a wonky floorboard. “What-”

She tried to get up but she just ended up on her hands and knees, finding it difficult to breathe. All she could think about was the beady look in Siegert’s eyes as he’d singled her out in that farmhouse and carried her upstairs and laid her out on the bed. She’d been too terrified to move, had let him carry her like a doll while the other German soldiers laughed and jeered as she was carried out.

“I’ve got you, Vi,” Bucky crawled round to the front of her, cradling her cheeks between his cold hands, “Come back to me, Mrs Egan.” He uttered the childish nickname like there was any truth to it, as if things could go back to the way they were.

She couldn’t, she was still somewhere else, her face pushed into a dirty mattress, into freshly wet earth, by a stranger’s hand as she cried and cried.

There were krauts in the room with them now, pointing their guns at them. It only made her terror worse, and she tried to hide herself behind Bucky's large body. Perhaps if they didn't see her, they wouldn't...

But they had, they were shouting, gesturing erratically with their guns. Buck was shouting back at them, and Bucky's hands were shaking against her skin. The next thing she knew, he had her thrown over his shoulder, knocking the breath out of her body and sending her into a coughing fit.

It was that jolt that brought her back to the present, as her body directed all of its energy to regaining her breath. Bucky rushed them outside, guards at their heels, only Buck between them and the guns. The guards calmed down once they joined the back of the formation of prisoners and Bucky lowered her to the ground with hands still trembling.

Violet finally started to regain her bearings. The cool night air on her face revived her. She looked up at the night sky, watching the stars twinkle at her. It had been cloudy that night, she couldn’t see the stars then. Things were different now, she had to remind herself. It was difficult to convince herself that it was true.

“You back with us, Vi?” Buck noticed the change in her once they were in line with the rest of their combine, shielded by the bodies around them.

She nodded shakily, avoiding their gaze. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. Nearly getting them killed and making a spectacle of herself in the process. That was not how she'd been raised.

“The hell was that about?” Bucky asked, eyes wide.

Violet wanted to apologise but all she could do was choke back a sob and complain instead. “My ribs hurt,” she groaned, rubbing at her stomach.

"Won't say sorry for saving you." Bucky replied, shakily. His words and his tone only deepened her shame. She'd proven to him that she was exactly the type of burden he'd said she was.

They fell silent, none of them knowing what to say. They watched as the guards searched each of the barracks. “What are they even searching for?” Brady grumbled from nearby, shifting his weight anxiously. “Trashing our rooms.”

“Quiet, Brady,” Bucky reminded him, “We’re being watched.”

They were being watched. Violet followed Bucky’s gaze to find the same guard from the earlier roll call who had called her to the front watching them. Buck had told her afterwards that his name was Herdrich. Finding the weight of his gaze too uncomfortable, Violet dropped her gaze to her shoeless feet, stirring up dust with her socked toe. She'd been too out of it to fetch her shoes. There was shouting, and commotion, and Violet ignored it all until she could no longer.

"Christ, that's our block," she heard Crank hiss, and she glanced up to see one of the guards running between their barracks building and the higher ranking guard, holding something triumphantly in his hands.

"Fuckin' knew it," Bucky swore, "Bastards are putting on a show."

"Cool it, Bucky, 'fore you get us all killed," Buck warned him. Violet felt out of the loop, but began to understand when Herdrich's attention was on her once again.

He pointed at her, curling a finger in a gesture that made her stomach drop. She didn't move, even as Buck and Bucky stirred on either side of her. She glanced behind her only to see the other men looking at her, waiting for something to happen. Looking back at Herdrich, she knew that she had not mistaken his attention being on her.

Nevertheless, she didn't move. Whatever he wanted, he could come to her to get it. Her knees were trembling so much she didn't think she could move a single step. She would've taken cover behind the other men but as soon as Herdrich singled her out, the crowd before her parted and she was left in his direct line of sight. Buck and Bucky might have been speaking but she couldn't hear them, the beat of her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

A phantom pain twinged between her thighs, and her jaw set firmly as she swallowed down the bile that had crawled up her throat, acidic and burning. Images flashed across her mind like a picture show; a lock of hair dangling in front of her eyes jerking rhythmically; her nails scratching hardwood floors in a farmhouse as multiple hands held her down; the tip of her ring finger a mottled, painful purple above an engagement ring, his hand slipping down her back to cup her ass in a room full of strangers.

Through the shadows of male visages, a pale, moustached face was pushing it's way back against the crowd towards her, and Carlos Diaz's kind face was twisted in horror. She watched as his lips moved, trying to twist out of the hold of two other men, and when their eyes met the world zeroed to the two of them, in that farmhouse, struggling against his constraints, tears wetting his cheeks as he mouthed words to her numb ears.

She looked out to the sea full of strangers. In one vision, grinning and toasting to the happy couple, the ring too small for her finger. In the other, two men tying a screaming, struggling Diaz to the bannister, one figure leaning back lazily against the door his hand working on his trouser buttons, and two, three, four, countless bodies ascending onto her as the moonlight shifted across the ceiling.

In both it had been the two of them. Daniel had given her a sharp shove to drown in the depths. But Diaz had swam alongside her, the two them beating back against the current, a life preserver tossed in the sanity of their aligned eyes on the floor of that farmhouse.

And now, here again, her shame, their secret, revealed in front of the two men who mattered to her most out of anyone in the world.

So she couldn't move, even as Buck tried to nudge her down the path that had been created. The guards barrelled their way through the crowd, seizing her by the arm, and yanking her to the front.

"Lieutenant White," Herdrich greeted once she was deposited in front of him, "Do you know why I have brought you up here?"

She shook her head, blonde strands sticking to her clammy cheeks despite the cool air.

"Zis was found in your combine," he said, holding up a pill bottle between gloved fingers and giving it a shake. There was no rattle from inside. She frowned, knowing she'd only had two. "What is zis?"

Violet shrugged, putting on her best show of bravado. "Looks like a pill bottle to me," she snarked.

"Yes," he hummed, examining the bottle with an appraising look, "For your leg?"

Violet's heart jumped. Her instinct was to deny responsibility, but if she said they weren't hers, would he then blame one of the others? So when he asked her where she got the pills from, she responded simply by saying, "Someone gave them to me.” It wasn't a lie, but it helped her none.

“Who?” he pressed.

"Your Kraut doctor," she said back.

Herdrich arched one eyebrow, glancing between her and the bottle held in his palm. "I'm afraid not, fraulein, as this bottle is the same which went missing from my office just yesterday."

Her mouth went dry. She had no response. Herdrich smiled at her, "But, there were more pills in this bottle than there are men in your combine. You cannot have taken them all, so where have you hidden them?"

"W-what?" Violet stammered.

Herdrich's smile grew wider, and he turned to the guards flanking him. "Search her.”

Her blood ran cold. She stood stiff as a young guard reached for her and tugged off her jacket, leaving her in just her undershirt. Another guard took the jacket and began searching the pockets while the first began to pat her down, his hands firm and insistent.

A photograph was pulled from the pocket of her jacket, accompanied by the triumphant grin of its finder. Violet watched with gritted teeth as it was passed around between the guards, who laughed and made a mockery of it, and ultimately to Herdrich. The older guard examined the photo with a sneer before ripping it into two, eyes fixed on the face of someone behind her.

Her cheeks burned.

Tears stung at her eyes as the guard’s hands roamed. She fought to keep them back but her vision was glassy and her eyes were surely red. Herdrich continued to watch, a stern yet amused expression on his face. Violet wanted nothing more than for Buck to come to her rescue. The guard’s hands skipped across the buttons of her shirt and for a moment she thought he was truly going to strip her down in front of all these men.

Violet craned her neck to look over her shoulder, searching the faces that were watching her debasement play out in front of them. Diaz had been swallowed by the sea, silenced by the glint of the guns on the hips of the guards. But Bucky was easy to spot, standing at least half a head taller than most of the other men, and his face was obscured by the back of Buck's head. She couldn't find any eyes to anchor her. When the guard searching her noticed where she was looking, he splayed his fingers out on the crown of her head, uneven fingernails tangling in her blonde strands, and twisted her head so that she was looking forwards. Her neck ached and her eyes stung. They weren't even looking at her.

No one called out in her defence. Not that she would have expected it in a place like this, but it was a hard pill to swallow, knowing that if the guards truly wished to assault her, no kriegie in their right mind would put a stop to it. From the looks of some of their faces, they might have even yearned for it to happen.

She closed her eyes and waited for it to end. They patted her down, hands wandering across every curve and crevice, and Violet stood there shaking. In an instant, her bravado had vanished. She was no longer in the stalag, an army of men behind her. It was only her, the angry German soldiers, and the dead body of their leader. She could still feel the fist tangled her hair, the pull on her scalp as she was dragged down the rickety old stairs of the farmhouse and thrown to the ground outside with such force that she'd blacked out for a moment. When she'd come to, her trousers had been pulled down around her ankles and there was no one to protect her.

By the time that the Luftwaffe guards were finished with their probing, Violet had prepared herself for the worst to happen. When their hands left her and tossed the jacket at her feet, she stood there in shock, unsure if it was some cruel trick.

The guard who had been searching her shook his head at Herdrich, who sighed in exasperation. "Very well," he said, "Search the rest of them."

One by one, they pulled the rest of the men from her combine up to the front and started searching them just as they had her. Bucky was shoved next to her, practically vibrating from anger like a rabid dog trapped in a cage. "Vi, what did they do? Did they touch you?" he asked her frantically, ignoring the guard searching him.

She shook her head absently, gazed fixed on a spot in the distance. "It's fine, John," she muttered.

The guards were met with more push-back from the men than they were from her. They didn't resist, but they did talk back, telling the guards "watch where you put your hands, Fritz," and complaining as the personal possessions they had shoved into their pockets were rifled through. Photographs dropped to the floor, letters mocked aloud, cartons of cigarettes making their way into the guards' own pockets.

Unlike the others, Bucky did not complain or make the guard's job difficult. He kept his face tilted towards her, watching her the whole time.

After a few minutes, every single one of them searched, the guards went back to Herdrich empty handed.

He tsked in disappointment, waving his men away with a single gesture. With the search over, and Herdrich not pressing any further, the appell came to an end, the gathered crowd began to disperse back to the their barracks, guards and their dogs rounding up the groups like cattle.

Buck made straight for her, gathering the jacket from where it still was at her feet. “Was that really necessary?” Buck hissed at Herdrich, gaze fiery as he draped Bucky’s jacket over her shoulders.

“I don’t tolerate thievery, Major Cleven,” Herdrich said in reply, gaze zeroed in on Buck. "Tomorrow, someone must bear punishment for this theft. Perhaps a few days in the cooler for our newest resident?" His gaze flickered towards her and he smiled menacingly. A shiver went down her spine even though she did not know what he meant.

"No," Buck responded, "As their Major, I take responsibility for the actions of the men in my combine."

Herdrich's smile grew, smug and self-satisfied. "Very admirable, Major," he said, dropping the matter of her wrongdoing and focusing only on Buck, "I shall await you in my office tomorrow."

With that settled, Herdrich turned his back on them, walking away with two guards flanking him. Nausea pooled in Violet's stomach, and she realised that Buck's fingers against her arm were shaking.

"Fucking creep," Bucky muttered from behind them, "Frisking her like that."

A shadow passed over Buck's face at his words, but it was only for a moment before it was gone. He nodded at Bucky with a grimace. "He just wanted a show," he said, "he knew he wouldn't find the pills."

With a single look at Buck, Violet knew that he had hidden them. Separated them from the bottle and hid them somewhere the guards wouldn't search. He must have known that something like this would happen. Not for the first time, she wondered how he had come by them in the first place.

"Bastard," Bucky hissed before turning back to her, "Did they touch you, Vi? I oughta knock their fucking teeth out."

She didn't respond, mind fixated on something else. She turned to Buck instead, thinking about what he'd said to Herdrich, "You shouldn't have done that."

Buck blinked at her, lashes fluttering as if she'd said something baffling. He struggled to find his words for a moment before saying, "Don't worry about it." His hand found her shoulder blade and he started guiding her back to the barracks. The others were slowly making their way back as well, taking a moment to shove everything back in their pockets and grumble about what had been stolen. She caught Brady's eye and wondered what they'd taken from him to make him scowl so deeply. Once she'd enjoyed putting that wrinkle between his eyebrows, but here she only felt guilt at the thunder on his face. Had she not been injured, had she not been here, things would have been easier for barracks number eight.

She didn't sleep for the rest of the night, too wound up, horrors replaying in her mind. Buck sat at the end of her bed, her feet in his lap, while Bucky took over Buck's bed, watching them from across the room. Despite everything, under the watchful gaze of them both, Violet found a strange comfort. She did not sleep, but as she gazed at the wooden boards above her bed, the knowledge that they were both right there soothed her, and for once she was able to let her thoughts drift into nothingness.

[bradyssmashwagon]

Trotting on over from the One Piece Live Action fandom just in time to see some pirate AU posts??

This is a perfect blend of my two loves! Boys who kiss, and pirates!!!

Referencing this post and maybe this post.

Listennn I’m already fully feral for @swifty-fox’s pirate au and I’m not embarrassed to admit it 🙌👏

[bradyssmashwagon]

this i will do. i will not falter in war or in peace - masterlist

Pairing: John Egan x Original Female Character x Gale Cleven

Summary: Violet White decided long ago that she would follow John Egan and Gale Cleven wherever they went - even to a stalag.

Warnings: 18+, period typical sexism and violence, SA, POWs, angst.

ao3

1. i washed my hands in muddy water

2. the girl of my best friend

3. tomorrow is a long time

4. softly as i leave you

5. the impossible dream

6. an american trilogy

7. an evening prayer

8. the first time ever i saw your face

9. don't be cruel

10. always on my mind

ongoing

[bradyssmashwagon]

this i will do - chapter ten

10. always on my mind

Pairing: John Egan x Gale Cleven x OC

Note: warnings for extended description of a panic attack, and of a violent, past SA

masterlist

Dinner was a tense affair that evening. They'd been gone so long that everyone else had eaten, and there were just three bowls waiting on the table, cold and uninviting. She took a seat at the table, stewing on how furious she was at Bucky, and didn't wait for anyone to tell her the food was hers before digging her spoon in. Buck had come in right on her heel and set his hand on the back of her chair as he too dug in, making sure to thank Benny for cooking.

Violet had been starving, but she only got three bites in before Bucky entered the room and her desire to eat vanished. She glared at him, spoon half way to her mouth, and made a split second decision to drop her spoon and shove the bowl in Buck's direction. "I'm not hungry actually, Buck," she said, venom dripping from her tone as she kept her eyes locked onto Bucky's. "Dunno why but I guess I lost my appetite." She took a mean satisfaction in the hurt that coloured Bucky's features then.

Buck tried to get her to eat after that, but Violet's anger won out against her hunger, and she took a little bit of pride in every wince that crossed Bucky's face when he caught the sharp jibes she threw his way. "No, Buck, there's plenty of mouths to feed. No point me being a burden on you all if I ain't hungry."

She retreated to bed before long, despite her hair still being wet. She wanted to lick her wounds in peace, and it was getting difficult to keep up any type of pretence in front of Buck when he'd been the one to hold her as she'd sobbed in the showers. It didn't take her long to pass out. She'd trained herself well in those weeks after Buck and Bucky got shot down, had conditioned herself to tune out the sounds of her fellow nurses' chatting and laughing well before they turned out the lights, could be asleep in no time at all.

Her sleep, like always, was restless. Solace couldn't be found in her dreams. She was stumbling through an endless forest, a thicket of barbed wire tearing into the soles of her bare feet. Whenever she looked back, there was a man chasing her. She couldn't see his face, but could see the red band on the grey of his uniform. She could hear his mean laughter over the blood rushing through her ears.

A thick rope caught painfully around her foot, slamming her down onto her parachute. A bed of thorns ripped shreds through the slippery material and her hands bled as she scrambled across the surface. A hand on the back of her thigh twisted her suddenly onto her back. The man crawled over her, a victorious grin splitting his face. The thorns pierced her flesh holding her in place by her wrists, the palms of her hands, her ankles. He leaned down, spit glistening on his teeth, a strong hand wrapping around her throat. With his fingers choking bruises into her skin, his face shuttered into view.

First, he was the guard in the stalag who'd singled her out, who curled his lip at her like she was the dirt beneath his boot. Then, his features morphed into those of her rapist, the cold look in his eyes as he'd taken her chilling her to her core. She blinked, and suddenly it was Haussmann, still wearing that smug smile he wore as he broke her down. He squeezed his fingers tight and her vision darkened.

His grip loosened and she heaved in a painful breath. Her vision swam clearer. Blonde darkened. His face lengthened. His nose grew. His hair curled.

The feeling flooded back into her legs and she kicked wildly, her hand clapping over his taut wrist, eyes bulging, mouth bobbing. "Bu-Bucky-" she stammered.

"Lettie."

That was not the voice of her Bucky. She blinked and his features sharpened, revealing the face of the man who she once expected to become her husband.

She froze, "No-"

All at once his fist crushed ever tighter, wringing her neck like a wet rag. He leaned in so close that she could see the scar she'd given him once, a little silver line across his chin that never healed. His breath burned her cheek as he bared his teeth at her. "Hey, sugar," Daniel drawled, "They'll never have you like I did." He spat, giving her once last squeeze before dropping her, and Violet fell down, down, down into the abyss.

She awoke with a start, bolting upright in her bed and crashing her head into the bunk above. Pain split across her forehead, and on instinct, she bit a pained yelp into her fist.

Violet jumped when she heard her name, a panicked cry coming from the lips of another, woken by her commotion. A broad body was crowding into her space, chest rising and falling in heaving breaths, clothes ruffled and blanket around his legs in the haste of throwing himself down from the bunk.

She flinched so hard she could feel a molten pain in her neck when it snapped back, "Don't-"

"What happened?" he hurried out. When she chanced a look at his face, it was Bucky. It was Bucky. His eyes were blown wide, an unreadable look of horror across his features. He was leaning into her bunk, hands reading out to her as if he could cure whatever it was that ailed her. Whatever he said to her then was drowned out by the sudden alarm outside, blaring out across the compounds like air raid sirens, lost in the swill of morphing features rippling over his face. Her throat pulsed.

"Everybody out! Schnell!" The guards were shouting outside, dogs barking by their heels, fists pounding on the windows. The small room was suddenly filled with light, and a series of groans droned as the boys woke up and rolled out of bed, slipping their feet into boots and shoving photos, cigarettes, postcards into their coat pockets. They did it with a speed that could only come from practice.

Buck was up before any of them, shrugging his jacket on and making straight for Buck. "We should've guessed this was comin'," he said, eyes alert as he scanned the room. They passed over her almost mechanically, and Violet wondered if this is what he looked like as he flew his fort across a field of flak, a mask of calm concealing the terror that plagued them all.

Bucky pulled away from her, rising to his full height so that he could mutter something to Buck. The blond's eyes flickered towards her, and he nodded. "I got it, Bucky," he said in response.

Bucky clenched his jaw, taking a deep, laboured breath before nodding at Buck and turning to the room. "Up and at 'em, boys!" he started hollering, clapping his hands together like a sheep-herder rounding up his flock, "You know the drill!"

"What's going on?" Violet asked, snapping Buck and Bucky's attention towards her. She was still in a daze, the nightmare never ending.

"Surprise appell," Buck told her, "Late night roll call."

Violet jumped at the sound of the front door being thrown open. Angry German voices filled the hall. They were coming for her. Haussmann, the stalag guard, Daniel...Siegert. She shuffled back and hit the wall. There was nowhere to go.

The speed at which everyone was moving terrified her. Outside, there was an uproar of noise, footsteps, dogs barking, guards shouting, men calling to one another. She could hear the drumming of movement down the hall, men from the other rooms making their way outside faster than the guards could come in to get them moving. They knew what it meant to disobey. Violet didn't, although she could certainly guess. But her hands were stuck to the bed like they'd been frozen, and she couldn't bring herself to move until Buck started tugging her off of the bed.

And suddenly, she was back in that farmhouse, pants around her ankles as she frantically crawled away from him on the bed. Siegert just laughed, gripped her ankles, uncaring of the burn across her leg, and yanked her back down the bed.

"We gotta get going, Vi," Buck was saying when she returned to the present, "Don't want 'em sniffing around in here." He was buttoning up her jacket with shaking fingers.

"Why?" Violet stammered, "What did I do wrong?"

She almost missed the way Bucky's head swung over to look at her immediately, and he abandoned whatever his task was to listen to her.

Buck looked at her with a wary look in his eyes.

She clung to him all of a sudden, fingers twisting desperately into his jacket, "Don't let them, Buck. I didn't even do anything this time!" she was close to sobbing. She couldn't face another punishment from German soldiers. Face down in the dirt beneath a cloudy, starless sky. A boot pressed into her back when she tried to get up. Morderin! they'd called her. Murderer. A soldier's revenge.

"Buck, we gotta get out of here now, Krauts are about to come a knockin'," Bucky was saying.

"I know, John," Buck replied, tone desperate.

Violet pushed Buck away then, with all of her might. He stumbled back, shocked at the sudden assault. "No!" Violet shouted, "I'm not going out there!"

Her foot caught on something and all of a sudden her world tilted as she fell backwards. A strong pair of arms caught her around her middle, but not fast enough, and she ended up landing on Bucky, the pair of them crashing to the floor whilst Buck watched on in horror, unable to decipher what had happened.

“Jesus Christ, Vi!” Bucky cried as his hipbone collided with a wonky floorboard. “What-”

She tried to get up but she just ended up on her hands and knees, finding it difficult to breathe. All she could think about was the beady look in Siegert’s eyes as he’d singled her out in that farmhouse and carried her upstairs and laid her out on the bed. She’d been too terrified to move, had let him carry her like a doll while the other German soldiers laughed and jeered as she was carried out.

“I’ve got you, Vi,” Bucky crawled round to the front of her, cradling her cheeks between his cold hands, “Come back to me, Mrs Egan.” He uttered the childish nickname like there was any truth to it, as if things could go back to the way they were.

She couldn’t, she was still somewhere else, her face pushed into a dirty mattress, into freshly wet earth, by a stranger’s hand as she cried and cried.

There were krauts in the room with them now, pointing their guns at them. It only made her terror worse, and she tried to hide herself behind Bucky's large body. Perhaps if they didn't see her, they wouldn't...

But they had, they were shouting, gesturing erratically with their guns. Buck was shouting back at them, and Bucky's hands were shaking against her skin. The next thing she knew, he had her thrown over his shoulder, knocking the breath out of her body and sending her into a coughing fit.

It was that jolt that brought her back to the present, as her body directed all of its energy to regaining her breath. Bucky rushed them outside, guards at their heels, only Buck between them and the guns. The guards calmed down once they joined the back of the formation of prisoners and Bucky lowered her to the ground with hands still trembling.

Violet finally started to regain her bearings. The cool night air on her face revived her. She looked up at the night sky, watching the stars twinkle at her. It had been cloudy that night, she couldn’t see the stars then. Things were different now, she had to remind herself. It was difficult to convince herself that it was true.

“You back with us, Vi?” Buck noticed the change in her once they were in line with the rest of their combine, shielded by the bodies around them.

She nodded shakily, avoiding their gaze. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. Nearly getting them killed and making a spectacle of herself in the process. That was not how she'd been raised.

“The hell was that about?” Bucky asked, eyes wide.

Violet wanted to apologise but all she could do was choke back a sob and complain instead. “My ribs hurt,” she groaned, rubbing at her stomach.

"Won't say sorry for saving you." Bucky replied, shakily. His words and his tone only deepened her shame. She'd proven to him that she was exactly the type of burden he'd said she was.

They fell silent, none of them knowing what to say. They watched as the guards searched each of the barracks. “What are they even searching for?” Brady grumbled from nearby, shifting his weight anxiously. “Trashing our rooms.”

“Quiet, Brady,” Bucky reminded him, “We’re being watched.”

They were being watched. Violet followed Bucky’s gaze to find the same guard from the earlier roll call who had called her to the front watching them. Buck had told her afterwards that his name was Herdrich. Finding the weight of his gaze too uncomfortable, Violet dropped her gaze to her shoeless feet, stirring up dust with her socked toe. She'd been too out of it to fetch her shoes. There was shouting, and commotion, and Violet ignored it all until she could no longer.

"Christ, that's our block," she heard Crank hiss, and she glanced up to see one of the guards running between their barracks building and the higher ranking guard, holding something triumphantly in his hands.

"Fuckin' knew it," Bucky swore, "Bastards are putting on a show."

"Cool it, Bucky, 'fore you get us all killed," Buck warned him. Violet felt out of the loop, but began to understand when Herdrich's attention was on her once again.

He pointed at her, curling a finger in a gesture that made her stomach drop. She didn't move, even as Buck and Bucky stirred on either side of her. She glanced behind her only to see the other men looking at her, waiting for something to happen. Looking back at Herdrich, she knew that she had not mistaken his attention being on her.

Nevertheless, she didn't move. Whatever he wanted, he could come to her to get it. Her knees were trembling so much she didn't think she could move a single step. She would've taken cover behind the other men but as soon as Herdrich singled her out, the crowd before her parted and she was left in his direct line of sight. Buck and Bucky might have been speaking but she couldn't hear them, the beat of her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

A phantom pain twinged between her thighs, and her jaw set firmly as she swallowed down the bile that had crawled up her throat, acidic and burning. Images flashed across her mind like a picture show; a lock of hair dangling in front of her eyes jerking rhythmically; her nails scratching hardwood floors in a farmhouse as multiple hands held her down; the tip of her ring finger a mottled, painful purple above an engagement ring, his hand slipping down her back to cup her ass in a room full of strangers.

Through the shadows of male visages, a pale, moustached face was pushing it's way back against the crowd towards her, and Carlos Diaz's kind face was twisted in horror. She watched as his lips moved, trying to twist out of the hold of two other men, and when their eyes met the world zeroed to the two of them, in that farmhouse, struggling against his constraints, tears wetting his cheeks as he mouthed words to her numb ears.

She looked out to the sea full of strangers. In one vision, grinning and toasting to the happy couple, the ring too small for her finger. In the other, two men tying a screaming, struggling Diaz to the bannister, one figure leaning back lazily against the door his hand working on his trouser buttons, and two, three, four, countless bodies ascending onto her as the moonlight shifted across the ceiling.

In both it had been the two of them. Daniel had given her a sharp shove to drown in the depths. But Diaz had swam alongside her, the two them beating back against the current, a life preserver tossed in the sanity of their aligned eyes on the floor of that farmhouse.

And now, here again, her shame, their secret, revealed in front of the two men who mattered to her most out of anyone in the world.

So she couldn't move, even as Buck tried to nudge her down the path that had been created. The guards barrelled their way through the crowd, seizing her by the arm, and yanking her to the front.

"Lieutenant White," Herdrich greeted once she was deposited in front of him, "Do you know why I have brought you up here?"

She shook her head, blonde strands sticking to her clammy cheeks despite the cool air.

"Zis was found in your combine," he said, holding up a pill bottle between gloved fingers and giving it a shake. There was no rattle from inside. She frowned, knowing she'd only had two. "What is zis?"

Violet shrugged, putting on her best show of bravado. "Looks like a pill bottle to me," she snarked.

"Yes," he hummed, examining the bottle with an appraising look, "For your leg?"

Violet's heart jumped. Her instinct was to deny responsibility, but if she said they weren't hers, would he then blame one of the others? So when he asked her where she got the pills from, she responded simply by saying, "Someone gave them to me.” It wasn't a lie, but it helped her none.

“Who?” he pressed.

"Your Kraut doctor," she said back.

Herdrich arched one eyebrow, glancing between her and the bottle held in his palm. "I'm afraid not, fraulein, as this bottle is the same which went missing from my office just yesterday."

Her mouth went dry. She had no response. Herdrich smiled at her, "But, there were more pills in this bottle than there are men in your combine. You cannot have taken them all, so where have you hidden them?"

"W-what?" Violet stammered.

Herdrich's smile grew wider, and he turned to the guards flanking him. "Search her.”

Her blood ran cold. She stood stiff as a young guard reached for her and tugged off her jacket, leaving her in just her undershirt. Another guard took the jacket and began searching the pockets while the first began to pat her down, his hands firm and insistent.

A photograph was pulled from the pocket of her jacket, accompanied by the triumphant grin of its finder. Violet watched with gritted teeth as it was passed around between the guards, who laughed and made a mockery of it, and ultimately to Herdrich. The older guard examined the photo with a sneer before ripping it into two, eyes fixed on the face of someone behind her.

Her cheeks burned.

Tears stung at her eyes as the guard’s hands roamed. She fought to keep them back but her vision was glassy and her eyes were surely red. Herdrich continued to watch, a stern yet amused expression on his face. Violet wanted nothing more than for Buck to come to her rescue. The guard’s hands skipped across the buttons of her shirt and for a moment she thought he was truly going to strip her down in front of all these men.

Violet craned her neck to look over her shoulder, searching the faces that were watching her debasement play out in front of them. Diaz had been swallowed by the sea, silenced by the glint of the guns on the hips of the guards. But Bucky was easy to spot, standing at least half a head taller than most of the other men, and his face was obscured by the back of Buck's head. She couldn't find any eyes to anchor her. When the guard searching her noticed where she was looking, he splayed his fingers out on the crown of her head, uneven fingernails tangling in her blonde strands, and twisted her head so that she was looking forwards. Her neck ached and her eyes stung. They weren't even looking at her.

No one called out in her defence. Not that she would have expected it in a place like this, but it was a hard pill to swallow, knowing that if the guards truly wished to assault her, no kriegie in their right mind would put a stop to it. From the looks of some of their faces, they might have even yearned for it to happen.

She closed her eyes and waited for it to end. They patted her down, hands wandering across every curve and crevice, and Violet stood there shaking. In an instant, her bravado had vanished. She was no longer in the stalag, an army of men behind her. It was only her, the angry German soldiers, and the dead body of their leader. She could still feel the fist tangled her hair, the pull on her scalp as she was dragged down the rickety old stairs of the farmhouse and thrown to the ground outside with such force that she'd blacked out for a moment. When she'd come to, her trousers had been pulled down around her ankles and there was no one to protect her.

By the time that the Luftwaffe guards were finished with their probing, Violet had prepared herself for the worst to happen. When their hands left her and tossed the jacket at her feet, she stood there in shock, unsure if it was some cruel trick.

The guard who had been searching her shook his head at Herdrich, who sighed in exasperation. "Very well," he said, "Search the rest of them."

One by one, they pulled the rest of the men from her combine up to the front and started searching them just as they had her. Bucky was shoved next to her, practically vibrating from anger like a rabid dog trapped in a cage. "Vi, what did they do? Did they touch you?" he asked her frantically, ignoring the guard searching him.

She shook her head absently, gazed fixed on a spot in the distance. "It's fine, John," she muttered.

The guards were met with more push-back from the men than they were from her. They didn't resist, but they did talk back, telling the guards "watch where you put your hands, Fritz," and complaining as the personal possessions they had shoved into their pockets were rifled through. Photographs dropped to the floor, letters mocked aloud, cartons of cigarettes making their way into the guards' own pockets.

Unlike the others, Bucky did not complain or make the guard's job difficult. He kept his face tilted towards her, watching her the whole time.

After a few minutes, every single one of them searched, the guards went back to Herdrich empty handed.

He tsked in disappointment, waving his men away with a single gesture. With the search over, and Herdrich not pressing any further, the appell came to an end, the gathered crowd began to disperse back to the their barracks, guards and their dogs rounding up the groups like cattle.

Buck made straight for her, gathering the jacket from where it still was at her feet. “Was that really necessary?” Buck hissed at Herdrich, gaze fiery as he draped Bucky’s jacket over her shoulders.

“I don’t tolerate thievery, Major Cleven,” Herdrich said in reply, gaze zeroed in on Buck. "Tomorrow, someone must bear punishment for this theft. Perhaps a few days in the cooler for our newest resident?" His gaze flickered towards her and he smiled menacingly. A shiver went down her spine even though she did not know what he meant.

"No," Buck responded, "As their Major, I take responsibility for the actions of the men in my combine."

Herdrich's smile grew, smug and self-satisfied. "Very admirable, Major," he said, dropping the matter of her wrongdoing and focusing only on Buck, "I shall await you in my office tomorrow."

With that settled, Herdrich turned his back on them, walking away with two guards flanking him. Nausea pooled in Violet's stomach, and she realised that Buck's fingers against her arm were shaking.

"Fucking creep," Bucky muttered from behind them, "Frisking her like that."

A shadow passed over Buck's face at his words, but it was only for a moment before it was gone. He nodded at Bucky with a grimace. "He just wanted a show," he said, "he knew he wouldn't find the pills."

With a single look at Buck, Violet knew that he had hidden them. Separated them from the bottle and hid them somewhere the guards wouldn't search. He must have known that something like this would happen. Not for the first time, she wondered how he had come by them in the first place.

"Bastard," Bucky hissed before turning back to her, "Did they touch you, Vi? I oughta knock their fucking teeth out."

She didn't respond, mind fixated on something else. She turned to Buck instead, thinking about what he'd said to Herdrich, "You shouldn't have done that."

Buck blinked at her, lashes fluttering as if she'd said something baffling. He struggled to find his words for a moment before saying, "Don't worry about it." His hand found her shoulder blade and he started guiding her back to the barracks. The others were slowly making their way back as well, taking a moment to shove everything back in their pockets and grumble about what had been stolen. She caught Brady's eye and wondered what they'd taken from him to make him scowl so deeply. Once she'd enjoyed putting that wrinkle between his eyebrows, but here she only felt guilt at the thunder on his face. Had she not been injured, had she not been here, things would have been easier for barracks number eight.

She didn't sleep for the rest of the night, too wound up, horrors replaying in her mind. Buck sat at the end of her bed, her feet in his lap, while Bucky took over Buck's bed, watching them from across the room. Despite everything, under the watchful gaze of them both, Violet found a strange comfort. She did not sleep, but as she gazed at the wooden boards above her bed, the knowledge that they were both right there soothed her, and for once she was able to let her thoughts drift into nothingness.

[bradyssmashwagon]

this i will do - chapter eight

8. the first time ever i saw your face

Pairing: John Egan x Gale Cleven x OC

Note:

masterlist

1942

Violet met Brady first out of all of the pilots. He’d sprained his wrist during PT and she had been on duty at the time, still undergoing her training. Her dress had been a pristine white, her hair tightly curled and gathered below the nape of her neck, her lips painted red as she gave him sweet smiles and sat down to wrap his wrist.

“There’s a dance tonight, Miss,” he had told her, but he didn’t get very far into his sentence before the door opened and another cadet swanned into the room.

“Little John!” the newcomer exclaimed when his eyes landed on Brady. Violet had her back to him so she couldn’t see, could only hear the heavy thumping of his footsteps as he crossed the room to them. “How’s the wrist?” he asked, standing at the foot of the bed.

Brady gave the man a half smile, his cheeks reddening a bit as if he was embarrassed. Violet kept her attention on his wrist, she was nearly done wrapping it. “Better now, Captain,” Brady said, flexing his fingers as if it didn’t hurt him. 

“Johnny, enough of the captain, alright?” he protested, surprising Violet. Most of the men she’d met with higher ranks, especially young pilots, liked to boast. It was enough to divert her attention from her work and make her look at him, and him, in turn, to look at her. 

He was tall for a pilot, had dark hair and a complexion made up of equal parts sunburn and tanned skin, typical of a flyboy. He was in PT gear, his white shirt stretched across broad shoulders and thick arms, the cotton damp beneath his pits and around his collar. He was bulky, the sort of man that could lift her over his shoulder without struggle. And he was beautiful too, all of his features working in perfect harmony, a smile so bright that it lit up the room, that only got wider as he looked at her. Violet was immediately enamoured.

Brady had replied to the newcomer but neither of them replied to him. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the captain. He was clearly a pilot, she could tell simply from the confidence he exuded, and she would eat her hat if it turned out she was wrong.

“Ow!” Brady exclaimed suddenly, tearing Violet’s eyes away from the newcomer.

She’d been tying the bandage on his wrist and had done it too tight. “Sorry, Little John,” she gave him a meek smile.

The man standing at the end of the bed laughed and she tried to beam at him. “Don’t worry, Brady. Seems like you’re in good hands. Isn’t that right, Miss?”

She met his eyes and couldn’t resist smiling at him. “Oh, the very best, Captain.” She held his gaze for a moment more before checking Brady over again and handing him a little bottle. “All done. Try to rest it for a couple of days. Doc will give you a note and some pills for the pain.”

“Thank you, Miss,” Brady said, “Will I see you at the dance tonight?”

She smiled at him, “I’ll be there, unless you boys keep spraining your wrists, in which case I might be a bit late.”

Brady beamed at her and said goodbye. As he left he exchanged a few words with the captain, who gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and sent him off. She busied herself all the while with tidying up her station, but her mind was on one thing only. 

“Are you in need of assistance, Captain?” she asked, not lifting her eyes from her work. 

“No, ma’am, I just came to check Johnny was alright. Took quite a fall out there.”

“Well I’m sure your boys appreciate you checking up on them. Not all pilots do.”

“How’d you know I’m a pilot?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s written all over you.”

“What’s your name, ma’am?” 

She squinted at him. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Bucky.”

“Is that really your name?”

“No,” he grinned at her, smacking his lips together as he chewed his gum. “You gonna tell me your name, doll?”

Not if it means you’ll stop calling me doll, she thought. “Maybe,” she smiled at him, “It’s Second Lieutenant White to you, for now.”

He raised his brows, his eyes lighting up, “For now?”

Boldly, she winked at him. “Ask me again tonight.”

-

A big group of them sat around one of the tables. There was Blakely and Brady, who bounced off of each other like two giddy school boys. There was DeMarco, the cadet Buck found sitting on his right most often, who he became fast friends with and appreciated the quiet confidence of. Biddick was the opposite, loud mouthed and brash but somehow still endearing. Kidd was quiet and watchful but still partook in their drinking games, and shared the same stern face as Veal. They were all good company, but none so much as Bucky Egan, who swanned around the table restlessly but always made his way back to Gale.

He’d known Bucky longer than the others, had met him back in flight school when they were assigned as each other’s roommates. They’d been each other’s co-pilots for a year until the Air Force decided they were too valuable to risk being in the same plane, but they still managed to spend every waking moment in each other’s pockets. Countless sleepless nights staring at each other from their beds on either side of the room, desperate for some shuteye but there were too many stories to tell.

Now Bucky was sitting beside Buck, practically on his chair, arm slung around his shoulder. He was leaning heavily into him, the smell of him more distracting than Buck wished to let on. The lingering coffee on his breath, the sweat under his arms, the cheap aftershave he used after shaving off everything but the thin line above his lips. It was intoxicating, and it was all Buck could do to roll his toothpick between his teeth and taste the wood on his tongue. 

The others were wrapped in conversation about Brady’s sprained wrist, which he held protectively against his chest, cheeks pink as Blakely ribbed him. Buck was distracted by the weight of Bucky against him. He was hanging off of him as if he was drunk but Buck had been watching him and he hadn’t even finished one drink.

“I met a real cookie today, Buck,” he said, eyes on the crowd.

Buck was surprised. Bucky didn’t often talk women with him, even though he knew that he liked them well enough. Had left nights in the bar early whilst Bucky chatted with some dame, and had laid awake in his bed until he returned with lipstick smeared across his neck. The feelings that took over his mind on those nights were hard to describe. He imagined Bucky with his hands around Marge’s waist, dancing her slowly through the night, and said it was because he missed her that he felt envy swirling in his stomach and something harder to explain stirring in his loins. 

“Oh, yeah?” Buck queried, pulling his head away from Bucky just enough to be able to look him in the eye with a raised brow. Their faces were so close that it felt inappropriate. “I was barely away from you all day. Where’d you find her?”

“Jealous, Buck?” Bucky cooed, and Buck’s heart jumped. Bucky met his eyes and a moment later his gaze dipped down his face, and then suddenly he was back looking at the crowd. “You’d have met her first if you’d cared enough to check on Brady,” he teased.

Buck let out a little sigh of relief, which turned into an amused huff as the corner of his lip quirked upwards. “Oh, I’m hardly jealous of you, Bucky,” he said, feeling the inexplicable need to clarify. “You haven’t even told me her name.”

Then Bucky gave him a sidelong glance and shrugged, the movement of his shoulders jostling Buck with him. There was the beginnings of a smile on his face that he fought to tamper down. Buck snorted, “You don’t know it, do you?”

“She didn’t tell me!” Bucky exclaimed, extricating himself from Buck, “Just told me to ask her again tonight.”

Buck’s brows raised as his heart sank. “She’s here?” he asked, hating how small he sounded. He didn’t like it when Bucky was chasing skirts. He was his best friend and he didn’t appreciate being abandoned. 

“Said she’d be,” Bucky said, sitting up in his seat to peer over the heads in the room. “You’ll know her when you see her, Buck. She’s your type of gal, really. Got the blondest hair I’ve ever seen, looks like she’s straight out of Hollywood, I’m telling ya.”

Buck was seconds away from tuning him out. It didn’t matter what this girl looked like, Bucky would have forgotten her by the time they moved to the next base. But Buck would still be there.

“Sure thing, Bucky,” Buck said, almost bitterly, taking a demure sip from his ginger beer. 

They found themselves at the bar a little while later. Bucky had roped himself into buying drinks for the rest of the boys and was struggling to relay the detailed requests each of them had had to the bartender. He’d gotten Buck’s first, though, so Buck stood there with his back to the bar and a cola in his hand, taking slow sips from it as if it were whiskey. Some rapid movement across the hall caught his eye and he craned his neck to see around the bodies, finally realising that it was Brady who had been practically running across the dance floor.

There was a woman at his side, with hair the colour of spun gold and strikingly bright blue eyes that he noticed even from a distance. She was smiling sweetly at Brady as the pair of them moved towards the bar, Brady walking just an inch behind her, which told Buck that he was following her rather than accompanying her. 

“Will you dance with me, miss?” he heard Brady ask, cheeks just as pink as they had been during Blakely’s ribbing.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with your wrist, lieutenant?” she said, looking pointedly at his bandaged hand. Her voice was smooth like honey, a hint of that transatlantic accent he was so used to hearing on the radio echoing in her tone. Buck had always been good with accents, had been the first of the guys to point out that Bucky’s New York accent was phony, an offbeat way of talking that had come from the hours he’d spent listening to the Yankees games. But he struggled to place this woman’s accent, she could have been from anywhere. She opened her mouth again to say, “Buy me a drink instead,” and Buck wondered if he could hear a little bit of midwest in there.

Brady looked a little disheartened but did as requested, ordering for her a cocktail that Buck had never heard of and sliding his money across the bar. The woman received the drink with grace that reminded Buck of the proper girls at his school, with wealthy parents and lives planned out for them.

They stood on the adjacent side of the bar, just close enough for Buck to be able to hear them but not close enough for it to be obvious that he was listening. He tilted his body towards them, turning back towards Bucky. When he glanced at the brunette, he saw that his eyes were on the very same woman. “That’s her, Buck,” he said with a confident grin, “That’s the girl I’m gonna marry.”

Buck couldn’t help but to laugh. “You’ve gone doll dizzy, John,” he shook his head. He tried to imagine himself as the best man at Bucky’s wedding but in every scenario it just felt wrong. 

The girl was gorgeous, he had to admit. For the first time since Marge had left him, he pictured himself with a woman, and was disappointed that Bucky had his sights set on her already. He would never steal his best friend’s girl. When he tried to picture it, as lovely an image of his future as it was, something felt off about it. Like his whole world was ever so slightly off kilter and he did not know how to fix it.

He helped Bucky carry the drinks back to the table, taking care not to spill any of the liquid on his pinks and greens. Bucky was not so careful and arrived back at the table with drinks noticeably less full than others. Back at the table, he downed his drink in three gulps. “I’m gonna ask her for a dance,” he told Buck.

He shook his head, taking his seat and resigning himself to waiting once more. “She already told Brady she wouldn’t.”

“So?” Bucky frowned.

Buck rolled his eyes. “Go on, then,” he waved his hand as a gesture of non-committance, and Bucky, like a well trained hound, sprung into action, heading straight for the bar and shouldering himself between Brady and the woman.

-

Violet had been enjoying her conversation with John Brady when the other John found her again. “Brady, Red wants to talk to you,” he sauntered over and clapped a hand on Brady’s shoulder.

Brady frowned, “I thought he was on leave.”

Violet noticed Bucky’s expression falter ever so slightly, the way his eyes tightened despite the smile on his face. “He just got back,” he said, and Brady’s frown deepened. Bucky held up his hands in surrender, “Don’t go bellyaching at me, I’m just the messenger. I told him it could wait till morning but, well, you know.”

Brady glanced over Bucky’s shoulder in the direction that he was pointing, and as his attention was diverted, Bucky looked her way and gave her a conspiratorial wink. She had to cover her mouth to keep herself from giggling.

“Fine,” Brady sighed, “I’ll see you later, Miss?”

“Sure thing, sugar,” she said sweetly. She couldn’t deny that Brady was handsome, and in any other scenario she would have gone for him first. But there was something magnetic about the tall, dark and handsome Bucky that had all her thoughts diverting to him. But still, she’d let things play out, not throw out all her cards at once. 

As Brady walked away, her thoughts returned, as they often did, to Daniel. She’d only ever been with him, and the entire town had seemed to know they’d get married since they were in their early teens. Still, when they went on their outings, it wasn’t uncommon for Violet to get approached by men. Daniel would never have let himself be talked away from her like Brady just had, he refused to let her out of his sight in seedy places like bars, yet he continued to take her.

She knew at once that Bucky was the kind of man that Daniel would have tried to steer her away from. He had confidence and charm in abundance, he was built like a brick house, and already she could tell that the other men treated him with respect. The kind of man that Daniel would avoid going toe to toe with, so would stay on his good side with false niceties and hope that the other man never caught onto his sharp jibes.

“Hi, doll,” Bucky smiled widely at her. Dumbly.

She couldn’t help the grin that took over her face, so she hid it in her drink as she took another sip. “Very smooth,” she said, “You’ve gone and chased away my date.”

“Little John?” he chuckled, “He’s a cookie, but between you and me,” he glanced around and leaned closer to her, voice dropping down to a whisper, “he recently had the clap.”

Violet let her eyes widen and she gave him a little shocked gasp for good measure. It didn’t matter that she knew he was lying. All cases of sexually transmitted infections had to be reported to medical or else they risked discharge. Violet would have known about it.

She gave him a sheepish smile, “Well then, thank you for coming to my rescue, Buckley, was it?”

Bucky winced, grabbing his heart in a mock show of pain, “You wound me,” he hissed, but his face was adorned with a wide smile, “It’s Bucky. And yours?”

“Not yet, soldier,” she tutted, keeping her eyes fixed on him as she took a sip of her drink. “You gotta prove that you’re worth my time,” she said. 

“Oh, do I?” Bucky played along with an even bigger smile, “Let me dance with you then, doll.”

 “I don’t dance, Captain,” she said apologetically, “I’ve got two left feet.”

Violet was actually very good at dancing, but she’d never liked it for a moment. Not the way she’d been taught to, expensive lessons in ballroom dancing that she was expected to show off at any formal gathering. The type of dancing that people did here, their bodies loose and expressive, was unfamiliar to her. She didn’t think her body could move that way, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself trying. 

Bucky groaned, “Not you as well,” he complained. “Buck doesn’t dance either.” He gestured behind them, nodding his head at one of the tables against the wall. There were several men around that table but there was only one that stood out to her, in part because he was watching them, in part because he was stunningly beautiful.

Buck had his eyes on them, his expression unreadable from this distance. She was immediately saddened that she couldn’t have them both.

Bucky waved at Buck, wiggling his fingers at him with an enamoured smile on his face. Violet had met other men in the Air Force called Bucky, but for some reason she doubted that this was a coincidence.

“Oh, did he reject you too?” Violet tossed back at him.

Bucky froze like a deer caught in headlights, his confidence faltering for a brief moment before it slipped back over him like a mask.

Violet immediately felt guilty. She hadn’t meant to cast aspersions on his or Buck’s masculinity, it was meant to be a jest to take attention away from the fact that she did not want to dance.

And so, because she was a pushover, Violet took him up on his offer to dance, if only to see his face light up with a smile again.

It wasn’t until Violet was pressed up close to Bucky during a slow song that she realised how much bigger he was than her. He was broad and lean, solid, large enough to block out the light behind him, casting her entirely in his shadow as they slowly turned on the dance floor.

“You lied, Lieutenant. You can dance,” he accused her, no anger in his voice. One of his hands was cupped around her waist, the other holding her hand. She hoped he couldn’t feel how sweaty her palm was. She felt so nervous in his presence, like a giddy schoolgirl. John Egan’s attention was rarely fixed on one person, his attention split between the many things going on around him and the many people clamouring for his attention all at once. But since they’d started dancing, he’d hardly looked away from her. And she was certain that she knew who stole his gaze when he looked away from her.

“How will I ever make it up to you, Captain?” she peered up at him, practically having to crane her neck. 

“Well, you could start by telling me your name, Lieutenant White.”

She scoffed, “You’ll have to try harder than that, Egan. What else?”

“Come say hi to Buck,” he said, stopping their dance. His hand remained on her waist, directing her body to face Buck, who, all this time, had been watching them.

It wasn’t like she needed convincing. “Alright,” she agreed, turning back to him with a grin, “I’ll say hi to Buck, and you can get me another drink.”

Bucky did as bid, but not before escorting her to Buck, making sure she would fulfil her part of the bargain.

The other boys had cleared out, crowded around one of the adjacent tables to spectate a particularly tense game of poker. Only Buck remained, but he did not look lonely.

“This here is Buck. Don’t listen to him if he tries to tell you his name is Gale, it isn’t. It’s Buck,” Bucky said, hand on her lower back as he introduced them. 

“Oh, I see,” she said, feigning understanding. “Well, it is nice to meet you, Gale.”

The smile that Gale gave her was dazzling. Like a proper gentleman, he stood and took her hand in his, placing a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. “Captain Gale Cleven, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you. What should I call you?”

“Promise not to tell Bucky?” she smiled conspiratorially at him. She glanced at Bucky’s affronted expression and made Buck lean forwards so that she could whisper in his ear. Up close, he smelled like vanilla and wood sap. She took in a deep breath through her nose, taken aback by how sweet he smelled. Daniel would never have used an aftershave so feminine. She gathered herself quickly and whispered her name into his ear.

Buck leaned backwards. “Oh, is that right?” he asked with a smile. Then he looked at Bucky and said, “It’s a lovely name.”

Bucky groaned dramatically, hand pressing into her waist. “Come on, doll, why won’t you tell me?”

“Get that drink and maybe I will,” she reminded him, his end of the bargain unfulfilled.

“Alright, alright,” he acquiesced, “Buck, you better not tell her any lies about me whilst I’m gone.”

Buck smirked at him, “Don’t count on it.”

-

When Bucky returned, three drinks in two hands, he found that Buck had already wrapped her around his finger. He couldn’t blame him, she was a bit too much like Marge for Bucky to have expected anything else, even though he’d never seen him flirt with a dame since then. 

There were other men at the table now, returned from the poker game. They were excitedly conversing with her, surprised to find a woman at their table. Blakely and Biddick were attempting to steal most of her attention, both of them deep into their drinks by now, and Brady took part in the conversation but for the most part seemed a little perturbed by how close she was sitting to Buck.

And she was, practically in his lap. She’d taken Bucky’s seat from before and perched herself on the edge of it. She listened to the stories that Blakely was telling her but for the most part her eyes were on Buck. Especially as the story Bucky came back to hear being told was the one about No-Engine Cleven.

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him in astonishment. “You did that?” she gasped.

Bucky put the drinks down on the table and slid hers and Buck’s over to them. “Wasn’t even his plane, did they tell you that?” Bucky joined in, taking a seat to her right.

“No, they did not,” she seemed genuinely amazed. 

“Always showing off, our Buck,” Bucky teased, raising his glass to Buck, prompting the other men to join in loudly with their cheers. Buck held his drink up slightly, not partaking but not ignoring them either, and brought his drink to his lips. Bucky watched his throat move as the muscles worked, sliding the drink that Bucky had bought for him down his throat. He pulled the glass away and licked his lips, as if he was tempting him. Bucky knew that his feelings were improper but all he wanted to do was indulge in his desires for his best friend.

He had to distract himself, and the perfect distraction was sitting right there.

“Are you gonna tell me your name now, Miss White?” he asked her, hoping that she wouldn’t tell him no again. If she did, he would just have to accept the rejection, as bittersweet as it was.

She gave him a tentative smile and let out a deep breath. “You really wanna know?” she asked, to which he nodded a bit too enthusiastically. Bucky happened to glance down at her hand and noticed that she was rolling a toothpick between her fingers. He didn’t have time to ponder how strange that was and where Buck’s had gone because she was suddenly revealing her name to him like it was her deepest darkest secret. “My name is Violet.”

In hindsight, laughing didn’t rank highly in the list of reactions she would have been expecting, he could see that from the vaguely affronted expression on her face as he chortled away. When he gathered himself enough to organise his thoughts, everyone was staring at him. “What?” he asked, “No one else thinks that sounds like a made-up name?”

Violet rolled her eyes at him, “Jeez, thanks, Bucky. Tell a guy your name and he laughs at ya.”

Bucky realised his mistake but he couldn’t backpedal now. He held his hands to his chest in apology, “I’m sorry, Vi, I am, I am,” - he hadn’t even realised that he had shortened her name already - “It’s a beautiful name, really.”

She raised her brows expectantly, “But?”

His carefully schooled apologetic expression cracked a bit and he struggled to contain his grin. “It’s just…Violet White?”

He would have felt guilty but he saw the way that her lips were twitching, her cheeks rounding as she fought back a smile.

“Your parents name you after a rainbow or something? Go on, doll, tell me your middle name whilst you’re at it,” he challenged, fully expecting it to be something stupid like Ebony.

But then she parted those cherry red lips and said in the sweetest voice, “Rosemary.”

No one in the 100th could stop him from howling at that.

“What?” she demanded, her voice trailing off into a giggle, “It’s my mother’s name!”

“You’re pulling my leg, Vi,” he insisted, struggling to catch his breath, hand on his stomach. He couldn’t believe it. “Rose? Rose?” She nodded. “Violet Rose White? Were you born in a garden?”

“Come on, Bucky,” one of the guys groaned, but Bucky wasn’t listening. If Buck wasn’t protesting, then Bucky didn’t want to hear it. Violet certainly wasn’t as offended as the others might have thought. Bucky barely knew her but he felt like he had a good read on her. 

“What do you suggest then, Captain? I can’t have everyone in the Air Force laughing at my name. I’m a respectable nurse, you know,” Violet challenged him. When Bucky glanced at the table he saw that her drink was finished already, and he hadn’t touched his. She’d had more to drink than him yet he was the one acting as if he was wildly drunk. 

An idea sparked in Bucky’s mind. It was bold, risky enough to potentially scare her away, but he’d done the same to Buck and it had stuck. Now Buck couldn’t separate himself from Bucky even if he tried, they would always be the two Buckies, inseparable, two sides of the same coin. And there was something about Violet that was different from the other women he’d pursued. He thought of Brady flirting with her and saw his chance slipping away.

“You know what, doll, I’ll help you out,” he began before his rational mind could catch up and tell him not to, “Take my last name instead. It’ll be funny, and confuse the hell out of some guys.” The others were watching him with dumbfounded expressions but he didn’t care. Violet was smiling now, a wide, genuine smile that showed off all her teeth and revealed small dimples in either cheek. He took her smile as agreement, “Fellas! You are all to call her Nurse Egan from now on, save her from the embarrassment. I mean, really, doll? Two colours is something, but three?”

One of the boys, Brady, piped up then, “Roll up your flaps, Bucky. You’ll scare her away.”

Violet ignored him, her eyes only on Bucky. “I have never met anyone like you,” she said genially, her proper tone slipping slightly, revealing something a little bit more country. She turned to Buck, “Is this how you got your name too?” she asked.

Buck shrugged, popping another toothpick into his mouth. “Can’t fight it, everyone’s gonna be calling you that from now on. When he met me it was Buck, can you tie my shoes and Buck, can you help me fly this plane for months.”

“I don’t think even brass knows his name isn’t Buck,” Biddick said from across the table.

Bucky sat up in his seat and pointed angrily at Biddick, “His name is Buck, Curt, how many times?”

He was having such a good time that when Violet stood up abruptly and claimed she had to go and powder her nose, he was already sad to see her go. “I’ll keep your seat for you, Nurse Egan.” He promised, and she smiled and said she’d be back, and then headed out the front door.

Bucky turned to Buck, the space between them too far. But he’d promised he’d keep her seat for her and he didn’t intend to go back on it. “So?” he raised his brows expectantly, lips twitching into a smile. It was rare that he didn’t have a smile on his face when he was around Buck Cleven.

Buck let out a deep breath, meeting his eyes with a sparkle he’d rarely seen. Something that Bucky knew a camera would never be able to capture. 

“She’s quite something, Bucky,” Buck said.

“Think I stand a chance?” Bucky asked.

Buck hummed thoughtfully.

“Do I?”

-

Violet felt guilty for lying to them when she went in the opposite direction of the ladies, but she had to get away. She was having feelings that she found hard to understand, sitting between two of the most attractive men she’d seen in her entire life, the both of them with their attention squared in on her. And then Bucky had given her his name as if it was a marriage proposal, and once again her thoughts returned to Daniel. If he knew what she was thinking, he’d be calling her a whore.

That had been the issue with him. To Daniel, Violet was pure and virginal, despite how many times he’d taken her in the stables, bent over a bale of hay. That didn’t count because they were always destined to get married, so she wasn’t like some of those harlots they came across in the bars. Women with loose morals who let men touch them up in sight of others, and drank with abandon. But those women had been happy and seemed to be enjoying the company of men in ways that Violet couldn’t imagine with Daniel.

For a while, she’d resigned herself to her future as his wife. Her final straw had been when her father threw a ball, a grand party in the town hall that was used to announce their engagement. She’d spent the evening in a daze, accepting congratulations from people she barely knew about an engagement she knew even less of.

She’d managed to get Daniel to a secluded corner during the party and had cuffed him on the head. “What the hell’s wrong with you!” she’d hissed at him, “Jesus Christ! Did I miss when you asked me to be your fucking wife?!”

He’d known her for years but had never heard such vulgarities come out of her mouth. Daniel had had a very religious upbringing and didn’t take blasphemy lightly. He threatened to wash her mouth out with soap and told her it was only because they were in public that he wasn’t making her get on her knees to pray and repent to the Lord.

Violet didn’t care about any of that. “Don’t I deserve a proposal?” she remembered saying, “I would have said yes. Why take that from me?” She was nearly crying at that point but her anger kept her from it.

He’d softened towards her then, “Lettie,” his name for her since childhood, “I thought you knew this was always going to happen.”

That had been right before Pearl Harbor. Things changed after that. 

It was a chilly night but Violet didn’t mind, pulling her jacket tight around her as she sat down on a bench and lit up a smoke. Daniel had gotten her into them and then disparaged her every time he saw her with one in her mouth, saying that he hated the smell. 

She wasn’t on her own for long. The door to the dance hall opened behind her, loud tunes of the orchestra filtering through the open doors for just a moment before they closed. 

“Come on, Buck, one of these days you’re gonna just have to try the real deal. What are those toothpicks really doing for you?” Bucky said loudly. Without turning to face them she was imagining Bucky with his arm draped over Buck’s shoulder.

“I don’t feel the need, John,” Buck replied, his tone quieter and more even. Their voices faded a little and Violet spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of them before they wandered off. As quick as they’d come, they were gone, disappearing around the corner. Violet wasted no time getting up from her perch and following them, not for an instant thinking about whether or not it was proper of her.

What she saw when she rounded the corner surprised her, if only for the sheer brazenness of it. Buck was leaning against the wall and Bucky was leaning over him, one hand on the wall beside Buck’s head and the other behind his back. Buck was smiling down at Bucky who was stooping so that they could be level with each other. She couldn’t hear what they were saying because they were much quieter now, but she could tell that Bucky was teasing Buck.

It felt like too intimate a scene to interrupt. She wondered if she’d misread their signals towards her and thought it was better to keep her nose out of their business. She had no intentions to go to any of the brass about what she was seeing.

Despite those thoughts, Violet couldn’t tear herself away. She might have just been able to sneak away and they’d never have known that she was there, but instead she had to clear her throat and say, “Either of you boys want a smoke?”

Bucky jumped back two feet and Buck immediately shrunk in on himself. Neither of them said anything, and it was from then that she started to think, why choose?

[bradyssmashwagon]

this i will do - chapter nine

9. don't be cruel

Pairing: John Egan x Gale Cleven x OC

Note:

masterlist

There was no roll call the next morning. Rain smattered against the thin roof and covered the whole stalag in a thin layer of water. Violet was glad for the excuse to stay in bed, curled into a ball and pressed herself against the wall. The cold seeped through the cracks and chilled her. Buck’s clothes warmed her some, but still she clutched her sides and fought the urge to shiver.

Buck had tried to get her to eat in the morning, but she had kept her eyes sealed shut and hoped that if she didn’t move he would go away and leave her to rot.

Buck would have none of it. He played the role of nurse well. It reminded her of her mother who would refuse to leave her on her own when she was ill as a child, which was often. “Vi, wake up, you need to eat,” he said softly, pushing against her shoulder. “You’re not spending the whole day in bed, doll.”

When she did eventually open her eyes, a sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue, she met Bucky’s eyes from across the room and her whole body tensed. Liability. Warm cunt. She rolled onto her back and glared at the bunk above her, a sad frown pinching her features together, and did not look back until she heard footsteps thundering across the room and the door slamming against its frame and she was sure that he was gone.

She blinked her eyes open and caught a glimpse of Buck’s downturned lips, wide eyes questioning as he looked at the door. He was crouched in front of her bed, hand resting on the rough fabric of the mattress. For a moment she thought he was going to go after Bucky, but when she let out an exhale, and her warm breath washed over his fingers, his attention snapped back to her.

“Hey,” he smiled weakly at her, one corner of his lips twisting upwards, his cheek rounding and the scar on his cheek catching the light, winking back at her. Flat, shiny, neat. Intentional. Violet had seen enough flak wounds to know that they did not heal like that, certainly not without a nurse’s caring hand, neat stitching that would keep the boys looking pretty. Seeing the way his scars caught the light, how they moved with his cheeks as he smiled, Violet could picture the point of a knife being pressed into his cheek, could see the blood pouring down and soaking his collar. The knife must have been recently sharpened, the line so neat, no jagged flaps of skin. 

Violet opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a hacking cough, and before she knew it she was leaning over the side of the bed, Buck holding her up, his hand in her hair, a bucket beneath her as she coughed up bile.

When it was over, broad hand stretched across her back, soothing her but ready to thump against her ribcage if she needed it, Buck pulled back enough to look at her face, and pressed the back of his hand against her temple.

She scoffed, “I can tell you already I’ve got a temperature, Buck. Don’t need to go all nursemaid on me.”

He shook his head. “Someone does, Vi. You shouldn’t have to be the one to patch yourself up.”

He wasn’t talking about her leg, about the dull, throbbing pain that backgrounded her existence. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment she saw her own pain reflected in his eyes, and she wondered again who had given him those scars. 

She kept glancing at the door, hoping and fearing that Bucky would come back through at any moment, to prostrate himself before her and beg for her forgiveness, or to tell her again why she shouldn’t be here. She thought Buck might ask but he waited for her to speak, and when she did all that came out was, “I stink.”

It pulled a chuckle from him, which earned him a glare, as if she’d expected him to disagree. “Come on, doll. Not nearly as bad as Brady smelled when he got here,” he gave her a conspiratorial wink. 

Brady’s outraged scoff struck Violet with the realisation that this was the most privacy she could hope to get in a place such as this. Brady hadn’t even attempted to disguise the fact that he’d been listening in - it could hardly be called eavesdropping when their conversation was out in the open. Would she forever be chasing fleeting moments alone with Buck and Bucky? How long until everything fell apart?

She could barely muster a smile at Buck’s attempt at humour. Though she felt more well rested now than she had in weeks, it made her new reality all the more crushing. Her joy that Buck and Bucky were alive was being pushed out by doubt, and it was easy for her mind to wander and tell her that she should have stayed at Thorpe Abbotts.

If she had, she'd have known months ago that they were alive. She'd have penned letters to them, and maybe even slipped a couple of risqué photos between the pages. They'd have written back and told her how much they missed her, and she would have told them all of Blakely's antics or embarrassing stories about Croz. She'd have told them to tell Benny that Meatball was hers now, and to tell Brady that his favourite girl had moved on to Rosie.

Maybe then, when this was all over, things would have gone back to the way they were. The three of them sneaking out to bars and pretending that they were waiting for another girl to join them, Violet putting off the decision about which one to choose. Not that either of them broached the topic.

She would've remained Nurse Egan, and not some rebellious flight nurse making a spectacle of herself in a men's prison camp. She'd disappointed Bucky, and she was worried she was going to lose him. And Buck was writing secretively to Marge, and Violet had to fight hard to suppress her fear that the choice had been made for her, and Buck would leave their little trio once they were stateside. If Bucky decided he was fed up with her, what did she have left? Returning home wasn't an option.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pulled away from Buck, seeking out the safety of her blanket. He let her, hands falling away, but not far, never too far. “Sleep a bit longer, Vi, I’ll wake you when the boys have made lunch,” he told her, tucking the blanket up over her shoulders, his lips twitching up into a smile that didn’t match the forlorn look on his face.

Violet was asleep before she had even registered that she was drifting off.

-

When Violet came to next and she blinked her eyes open to see that rain was no longer smattering against the window pane, there was no sight of any of the other men in the room, their beds vacant and unmade. The smell of cigarettes wafted in through the window, cracked slightly open. Her stomach churned and she was back in that farmhouse, the cigarette smoke so thick that she had carried it on her clothes and in her hair for a week.

A moment later, she realised what had woken her. Soft voices from outside, hushed tones not meant to be overheard. Her ears pricked, and she couldn’t bring herself to tune out the conversation that Buck and Bucky were having beneath that window. 

“Don’t mean you gotta ignore her though, John,” she heard Buck say in that low drawl. “Ain’t her fault.”

“Ain’t it?” Bucky snapped back, his tone making her flinch, even as she was safely cocooned in her blanket. “Jesus, Buck, don’t look at me like that.”

Buck tsked at him. Violet could imagine the exasperated look on his face, hoped that he was because that would mean he was defending her, and that would mean he was still hers. “Stop acting like a loony then,” Buck retorted, “Sulking ain’t gonna help none.”

“Well, I can try,” Bucky’s reply was little more than a mumble. Violet rolled onto her back, staring up at the slats in the bed above her with a weariness that weighed her down into the bed. She heard a few muffled movements and then an angry sigh. “You got a match?”

A moment later, a match struck against a shoe and a fresh wave of cigarette smoke entered the room. 

She hauled herself out of the bed and clutched onto the window ledge, a little pile of books that had been helpfully placed on the floor allowing her to get just enough height so that she could push the window pane wide open and fold herself over the edge to peer down at Buck and Bucky on the other side of the wall.

“Gimme that,” she snatched the cigarette from Bucky’s hand, “Window’s open, you knucklehead.”

“Vi-” Bucky sprang to his feet, eyes blown wide at the sight of her.

“What?” she snapped, putting the cigarette between her lips and frowning at him. With the forlorn way he looked at her, it was easy for Violet forget what she must have looked like, malnourished and sick. She was taken back to the times they’d shared cigs, and he’d watched, mesmerised, as she put the stick between glossy, cherry red lips and smiled at him as she exhaled, the smoke twirling in the air.

“You-”

Violet blew the smoke at his affronted face, “Gonna tell me off for bad mouthing ya? You’ve called me worse.”

Buck got between them, rising to his feet and waving away her cloud of smoke. She didn’t miss the way that his eyebrows knit together and his mouth flattened.

She didn't wait for the conversation to continue, her exhaustion pulling her back to the bed, and snapped the window shut. She laid atop the covers and faced the wall, watched the embers smoulder at the end of her - Bucky's - cigarette, and passed out before the flame burnt out.

-

When she woke next, the blanket had been pulled up to her chin, the cigarette had vanished, and there was a scorch mark on the mattress a few centimetres from her face. The sky had begun to dim, and whatever sunlight that was left of the day was obscured by dark clouds, the rain pouring down so heavily that she was reminded of those early June days at Thorpe Abbotts.

It was a game of poker that roused her, a group of the men sitting around the table with old, worn cards in hand. Their tones were hushed, but Hambone couldn't hide his groan when he placed his cards down and realised that he had lost.

"That's you on latrine duty, Ham," Brady snickered, "I wanna see my face in that bowl."

"Fuck you," Hambone growled, "Deal me in again," he said to Crank.

Violet watched it all with tired eyes. It still didn't feel real.

She shifted, and as she did her feet brushed against something at the end of her bed. When she looked up, Buck was already gazing at her, sitting at the end of her bed with a book in his lap.

"Hi," she croaked at him, offering a paltry smile.

Buck smiled back, dimples forming in his once-round cheeks. He leaned forward, placing his cold palm against her sweaty forehead. 

"Fever's still there," he mumbled, "How'd you feel?"

She pushed her face into his hand, revelling in the way that his fingers immediately moved to smooth the hair around her face. 

"Like I've fallen out of a plane," she grimaced. 

Buck hummed, "I'll bet." He dog-eared his page and began to slide from the bunk. "I'll get you some food."

Before she could grab hold of his wrist, the bed slats above her creaked loudly and a large body hit the floor. "I'm on it, Buck," Bucky said, making his way to the door without so much as turning around.

Feeling more awake than she had in a while now, Violet moved to sit up, taking in the room with bleary eyes. Nearly every bunk was occupied, and those who were not in their bunks were either at the table or in someone else's, the rain having pushed everyone inside.

She looked at Buck, and for a moment she was struck dumb by the sight of him. Her Gale, alive. 

Buck's eyes flickered between Violet and the door. “What was said last night?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Violet shrugged. "Nothing worth repeating," she said.

"I don't believe that," Buck insisted, "Whatever he said-"

Violet interrupted him by sliding off of the bed. "It doesn't matter, Gale," she sighed, making her way to the single available chair by the poker table.

She didn't miss the way that the lively atmosphere around the table dimmed a little at her approach, the men exchanging glances as she joined their group. 

"Want me to deal you in next round?" Crank offered.

Violet liked Crank. He was boring, sure, but he had always been kind to her. He had been the one to break the news to her when Buck's plane got shot down, and had told her every detail he knew from the entire mission. It was only because of Crank that she'd been able to hold on to any hope that he was alive.

Brady responded before she could even open her mouth, not looking up from the cards in his hands when he said, "Don't, she cheats." He was leaning back in his chair, taking up valuable space in the cramped room, and Violet was tempted to push him further back and test the limits of the chair legs. 

In truth, she was thankful for him. At least Brady wasn't treating her any different. Violet would have been crushed if this stalag had destroyed their rivalry too. She let out a giggle, which was her first genuine laugh in months. "I wouldn't know how, darling." Which was a total lie. "Don't worry anyway, boys. I'll just watch." Her palms felt too clammy and her fingers too shaky to play.

The game resumed, and before long, Bucky was returning with a hot bowl of something with not one, but two rolls of stale bread. 

"Here you go, Vi," Bucky said, placing the bowl and spoon on the table before her.

Violet resisted the natural urge to look up at him and smile. It felt wrong to ignore him but it was what he deserved. If she was just a warm cunt to him, then he wouldn't get any other part of her. She merely said, "Thank you, Major," and ignored the bowl in favour of giving Brady useless advice about how to play.

Bucky stood in her periphery for a while. He only left once she finally raised the spoon to her mouth, and even after that, she could sense his eyes on her.

Once the game was finished and Violet had eaten as much as she could stomach, she felt a gentle touch to her shoulder. "Vi, honey," Buck crouched down next to her, the endearment falling from his lips in a hushed tone, "Colonel's made arrangements for you to get a shower. I'll take you now, yeah?"

She got the impression that he wasn't asking. And she was in no mood to argue with her skin itching as it was. Still, she couldn't shake the terror that she felt at the thought of being so vulnerable here. 

Violet took a deep breath and looked at him. "Is it safe?" she asked, heart in her throat. 

Buck hummed, his eyes flickering down to her hands fidgeting in her lap, "Sure, yeah...bout as private as we'll get here."

Her instinct was to seek assurance from Bucky. She trusted Buck beyond words but she needed Bucky to tell her that she would be safe, that he and Buck would protect her and they wouldn't let her to come to harm. Even if that was a lie given where they were. As angry and hurt as she was, she needed him, so when she raised her eyes in search of him and found that he wasn't there, it felt like a knife being driven into her heart. 

She kept close to Buck's side on the walk to the shower block, but she did not keep her eyes downcast. She met the stares and ogling of the men lingering around their combines with sharp glares, and bit her tongue so that she wouldn't call out to them and ask them what they were looking at.

The colonel met them at the shower block, having been fetched by a runner sent by Buck. "I've told the guys in there they have five minutes to clear out," he said, "Then I can give you twenty minutes. No more though, there are still plenty of men in this compound who need to shower before lights out."

"Thank you, Colonel," Violet spoke before Buck could, "I'm grateful."

Clarke nodded at her, "I'll keep watch out here. The guards know that if they try to get past me and break in, there'll be a riot on their hands."

Violet wasn't too sure she believed that, but it was comforting nonetheless.

They waited for the men to leave, and Violet didn't miss their glares as they filed out of the building. 

Buck turned to her before she went in, handing her a roll of fabric he'd kept tucked underneath his arm. 

"Water's only lukewarm, it'll get cold after a few minutes. There's a stool in there if you wanna sit down. Here's some clean clothes and I got you your own bar of soap. I'll keep watch, so will the Colonel, but try not to take too long, yeah? And Vi? Just holler if you need me. I'll come running," he explained. 

Violet stared at him, her face going slack at the realisation he was sending her in there alone.

"You're coming in with me, Gale," she told him firmly, "Or I'm not going in."

Buck's face pinched like he'd known this was coming, and he ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed the area behind her. "Vi, you know why I can't."

She stood firm and grasped his hands, squeezing tightly as she said, "I'm not asking. I'll go back to the barracks before I'm alone in there."

For a long, tense moment she thought Buck was going to deny her. She watched the muscles in his jaw work and his eyes flicker about. "Okay," he sighed his acquiescence, and led her inside.

The shower block was as damp and dingy as Violet expected it to be, with rows of rusting shower heads attached to the walls and pools of water on the ground that would probably never fully drain away. For now, she didn't care about the grime. She could smell the soap from the men who'd used the room just minutes prior and she felt a sense of excitement stirring in her gut at the thought of washing away everything that had happened to her.

Buck turned his back on her, facing the door, his posture stiff. His presence was the only reason that she was able to bare herself and step beneath the cool spray of water. She gasped at the sensation, the shock of the cold abated by the joy she felt at the water drenching her figure. 

Gale listened to the noises she was making, unsure whether she was laughing or crying. "How's it feel?" he asked her, knowing from his own experience that if he just let her get on with it, she'd freeze. "It feel good?"

She let out a long sigh. "S'good," she answered. He didn't want to know how long she had gone without a shower, and he didn't want to see the colour of the water as it ran over her body and went down the drain. 

He tried not to let his thoughts wander to anything outside of the room, to John or to the guards. Asking her questions and keeping her mind occupied was as much for her sake as it was for his. 

It was all fine, until Violet stopped answering his questions. He strained to hear over the sound of running water, listening out for any sign that she'd collapsed. What he heard was arguably worse. It started out as little whimpers and heavy breathing, and he called out to her but she didn't respond. The urge to turn around was strong but he resisted, bouncing his leg to contain himself.

It was much harder when she started sobbing.

"Vi?" he called out.

"Buck!" came the answering cry from Violet, and it was that which Buck needed to send him running to her side. 

He didn't stop to take a look at her form. His arms were around her before he'd realised that he'd moved, pulling her out of the stream of water and cradling her to his chest, never mind the way that she immediately soaked him to the bone. 

Her fingers twisted in his shirt, and she pushed her head into his chest, face twisted into an expression of pure agony. Buck didn't know what else to do than hold her tight, and felt his own tears welling in his eyes. For all that he tried to be a leader, he felt still a child himself, helpless against the forces they were facing. 

"Talk to me, talk to me, Vi," he muttered into her damp hair, cupping the back of her head in one large palm.

She didn't, she couldn't. She could barely breathe. And Buck didn't know what to do or what to say. All he could do was murmur assurances at her. I've got you, you're safe now, I'm sorry, I wish it didn't have to be like this. I love you. He said the last part so quietly that even he could not hear it over the sound of her sobs.

He held her until her breathing evened out and the tears stopped flowing. He pulled back, cupping her face between his palms, and tried to get her to look at him. Her eyes were red and dull. "You wanna talk 'bout it?" he asked her, wiping the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. 

It didn't surprise him when she shook her head and moved away, reaching for the bar of soap that had fallen to the floor. He'd felt the same the first moment he'd had on his own after his arrival here. For weeks, he couldn't close his eyes without seeing the faces of the men who tried to hang him. In his dreams, he was falling, and he'd wake only when the rope went taut and...

He still couldn't talk about it.

They didn't speak as she finished her shower. The water was cold now, but she didn't care. It helped her come to her senses and cooled her head. When she finally shut the water off, Buck wrapped her in a towel and helped her dry off. He even redressed her wound when her fingers were too shaky to do it herself. Throughout it all, she felt numb and detached.

"You're all wet," she said once she was in her new clothes. Buck had done his best to squeeze all of the water out of her hair, but it would be a bit before she was totally dry.

Buck shrugged, "I'll dry off." He was crouched in front of where she sat on the stool, having just laced up her boots. He glanced up at her, his wide blue eyes seeming to see straight through her. "Give him some time. He's hurting too," he said, fingers lingering on her ankle.

He was right, but Violet didn't want him to be. "You're taking his side?" she asked him, tone more accusatory than she intended.

Buck leaned back on his heels. Exhaustion was written plainly across his face, in the tightness of his jaw, the purple beneath his eyes, the wrinkles that hadn't been there before. "There are no sides, Vi. Just them and us."

Violet fell quiet again. It was hard to pull her thoughts away from the farmhouse. It had been them and her then.

"Come on, think our time's about up," Buck said after a long moment of watching her, standing and pulling her to her feet. 

When they finally exited the shower block, there was a long line of scowling Kriegies who immediately rushed for the door as soon as she stepped out, pushing past her without care. Buck had been anticipating this and swiftly pulled her to the side, keeping out of the way. She caught a few angry grumblings directed at her, and was reminded again of what Bucky had called her. Liability. Warm cunt.

She was surprised to find the very same man waiting for her and Buck, hands on his hips as he zeroed in on their figures. His eyes narrowed as they approached, a dark look twisting his features. "Jesus, Buck, what the hell were you two doing in there, huh?" he spat out venomously. Violet felt sick. 

"John," Buck warned him. 

"Dunno why you're all wet, King Cleven. Here's me thinking keeping watch didn't involve any funny business," his eyes were sharp and tone accusatory. Yet, he didn't look at her. His attention was solely on Buck. "Tell me why I have to wait out here, yet you get to follow her in like a damn dog," he stepped forwards and pushed a finger into the other man's chest.

Violet barged past him, fed up and wanting her bed.

Bucky's hand caught her wrist, and she spun around with fury in her eyes. His other hand closed over the back of her hand, and despite the frustration on his face, he looked as if he was about to get down on his knees in front of her. His gaze softened in the blink of an eye. "Vi, talk to me, please."

She scoffed, pulling her hand back as if his touch was poison. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she spat, "Either you want me or you don't. Make up your mind."

She stormed away as best she could on one injured leg. Buck caught up to her with ease, and the pair of them left Bucky in the dust. She risked a glance behind her. Bucky was crouched on the floor, head in his hands. She tried not to think about how much her chest hurt.

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i bit u so ur mine

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Me in the middle of being tortured : I hate this song can you skip it please

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Bomber Crew Clothing

I am no expert, but I thought I’d make an effort to help explain some of the clothing B-17 and other bomber crews wore in WWII because I know they can get a little confusing at times. Flyboys were flying in temps as low as -50 deg F aka -45 deg C, so they really had to make sure they didn’t get frostbite by wearing a lot of different layers. In general, the clothes worn by each crew member was at their own discretion. Some wore more, some wore less, it really all depended on preference for the most part.

Pilots and copilots were a little bit different, though, because the heating systems on the B-17 Flying Fortress warmed up the cockpit using warm air from the engines. This is why most pilots are not seen wearing the thick wool/alpaca lined pants or the F-1 heated “blue bunny” suit. This is how many of the pilots, including Bucky as pictured below, was able to get away with only wearing their A-2 leather jacket instead of a thick sheepskin jacket like Buck. Again, this was likely personal preference based on what other layers they elected to wear.

If you look carefully at most of the Masters of the Air characters while they’re wearing their flight gear, you’ll see this to be accurately represented. For example, in the picture on the left, Crosby is wearing the A-3 sheepskin lined trousers unlike Buck, Bucky, and Brady. Brady elected to wear his A-2 while Bucky and Buck are wearing sheepskin jackets.

The F-1 Blue Bunny suit was traditionally worn over the top of long johns or undergarments. In the pictures below, you can see that some gunners put their A-3 sheepskin pants with suspenders straight over their F-1 “Blue Bunny”suits. In the picture at right, a staff Sargent can be seen putting on the suit over the top of his long johns.

Looking at the flyboys while they’re in Africa, we can see other examples of the undergarments they might have worn underneath the blue bunny suit.

Harry Crosby described in his book he would wear his OD (olive drab) wool pants and shirt over the top of his blue bunny suit. And then over the top of that he would put on his flying coveralls. This could likely be because he was an officer, and thus officers typically wore their blouses with ranks. Crosby, Douglass, and Blakely are wonderfully modeling their flying coveralls for us in the image below.

Later in the war, the B-3 sheepskin lined jackets (see left) were replaced by the B-11 Alpaca lined jackets (see right). Similarly, the A-3 pants were replaced by A-11 pants.

They also had two pairs of gloves, one of which were heated and could be hooked to their blue bunny suits. They also had fleece lined boots that would go over their shoes.