#bucky egan x black reader

[saturnville]

sweet goodbyes, major john egan

pairing: major john “bucky” egan (masters of the air) black fem oc (amelia egan)

content: john is being shipped to England to serve in the war; his departure comes with sweet goodbyes

an: callum turner is my new white boy of the month, yay!

“Close your eyes, darlin’. You can’t keep trying to fight sleep.” His voice warmed the deepest parts of her insides. Her stomach fluttered and she couldn’t fight to dopey smile that crept along her lips. She whined in objection, ignoring how her eyelids fluttered.

“I don’t want to sleep,” she murmured, words slurred and almost incoherent. Her hand ran down the lace neckline of her white nightgown; a gift from her mother-in-law from her wedding night. Her hand then traveled over to his dark hair, massaging his curls. “Want to stare at you alllll night.”

His soft chuckle forced her eyes open. He caressed her warm cheek “That’s nice, doll, but you should get your rest. I gotta be out early in the morning. Gotta have coffee together.” It was a ritual. Every morning, he’d wake her up at the break of dawn with a steaming cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. It was a simple gesture, but it was what she grew to love. Cuddled in the sheets, sipping from their mugs and feeding each other spoonfuls of hot oats. She’d have to get used to eating by herself.

She huffed in disdain. John chuckled and wrapped his strong arms around her body. He pressed a firm kiss against her cheek, then her nose, then her lips. She returned his advances immediately. Her hand gripped his neck as she pulled him closer. “Amelia…”

Amelia’s leg crept along his waist and she silently urged him to take the hint. He whispered a gentle, are you sure, against her lips, which she replied with her hips pressed against his.

John gripped the plushness of her thigh and pushed it back, slotting his body between her legs. Her breaths were heavy and quivered with desire. His large hands clenched the fabric of her nightgown, pushed it up her body, and tossed it across the room. “I love you, you know that?”

“Mhm.” Her mind couldn’t create a coherent sentence with him touching her so delicately. “I love you, too.”

The moon shone through the curtains. Amelia felt the weight of sleep finally pulling her down. Her husbands presence comforted her as his whispered declarations of love lingered in the air. Reluctantly, she stopped battling drowsiness and succumbed to its authority.

The warmth of his love wrapped around her like a blanket, and the anticipation of their morning ritual brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. She couldn’t help but savor the small moments she had left, knowing that tomorrow would be different.

Yet, within their tender embrace and exchange of affections, their love was a solidified anchor that promised a new daw filled with cups of coffee and the joy of each’ other’s company.

[afewfantasies]

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter II

Prologue | Chapter I | Misc references & details

Summary:  Set about a month after the first Chapter, Gale heads into town for supplies and to make a reunion with the survivors of 'the bloody hundredth'. Lorena accompanies him on this journey, while the road-trip together is new territory - the reunion proves a success. Gale and Lorena get to see glimpses of each other at their best, in their elements and the new perceptions of each other are complimentary. Setting the foundation for bonds built to last.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc), everyones favorite Bucky Egan makes an appearance.

Warnings:  Race is a factor but there will be no overwhelmingly racist outbursts. It is more so a discovery element and explorations, different worlds, a little forbidden love element.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter II

Sitting in the car Lorena takes inventory of her purse for a third time. The drive into the nearest major city is five hours and Gale makes the trip once a month to pick up necessities without the markup of the local city. With his current profit margins it’s no need but he’s a man of routine. Lorena looks him over realizing this is the only time he’s freshly shaven with coiffed hair. His clothes are pressed and starched to perfection and he looks like he could belong in the pictures. Turning back to her window she wonders if he has someone in town or if it’s a bid to get someone in particular’s attention. She’d never asked any questions about his romantic life in the four months she’d been with him. Rose had disclosed the important stuff. He had been engaged prior to the war, but then before victory his intended decided to leave him for a Hollywood producer. Gale’s fiance was beautiful, Rose says they looked like a Hollywood couple. It was now weeks since Lorena’s breakdown and things were closer to normal again now. She was back to her easy going nature. Reaching into her purse she gets out a book getting Gales attention as she flips through pages before starting at the beginning. He focuses on the road for about five minutes until Lorena grows restless again. It makes him smile remembering his best friend.

“My best friend’s gonna meet us in town,” Gale says, breaking the silence.

“You have friends?” Lorena asks, surprised.

“I do” he nods and Lorena smiles pleased for him.

“So you speak to him? Full sentences or … how was the friendship developed?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing.

“Bucky talks enough for the both of us, you two are very similar” Gale responds with a shady smile.

“Bucky’s a woman?” Lorena asks, being cheeky.

“No, he’s one of my brothers from the war. We trained together, flew in together and were prisoners of war together” he says candidly, sometimes it felt good to tell the truth.

“Sorry” Lorena says not wanting to mock anything about what was undoubtedly a painful time in his life.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Bucky’s a flirt but he means nothing by it, he’ll probably tease the both of us unmercifully but it’s just his character. He can be juvenile at times but there’s no better man to have on your side in a pinch” Gale says with reverence for his comrade.

“I’m not easily offended” Lorena comments. “Also, I’d rather not interrupt a reunion of soldiers” she says with the wounds still fresh from her own ejection of Reggies life and times as a soldier.

“It’s fine, some of the guys will have sisters, wives, girlfriends and such with them. Rose thought it would be a good idea. You could shop and have some female company.” Gale proposes always the Major, always considering others. Somehow, it wasn’t infuriating to Lorena that they were discussing her behind her back. Gale and Rose really did seem to have her best interest at heart.

Lorena takes in her surroundings the drive in had been so full of strife and anxiety that there was no time to enjoy the mountain ranges. Everything looked far more picturesque than any painting she’d ever seen of the west. If her granny was still alive she would tell Lorena that this was the kind of place you survived at god's mercy. Her childhood experiences lead her to think of exodus, or maybe this was her Joseph moment as a girl. She hoped her grandmother's prayers would protect her in this new journey, through her rebellion and absconding of her home and family. Her grandmother would be proud of her survival instincts. Gale pulls over into a gas station to top up the tank.

“I can drive if you’d like?” Lorena offers.

“I’m fine, doll.  I’ve managed longer with more challenging hardware” Gale smiles, seeming happier than ever before. There was a gleam in his eye that she’d somehow seemed to miss every day at breakfast and dinner.

“Okay” Lorena nods, heading into the station with Gale. He checks the bathroom before allowing her inside. He stands outside the door considerate of the world’s ugliness and prejudice. Lorena found Gale even more protective than her own older brother. He was always hyper vigilant, assessing levels of danger and prospective threats. It was a symptom of the sickness the war left behind according to the mature ladies who’d lived through the return of men from the Great War. Gale catches all the eyes looking at Lorena and decides against using the restroom for the next few hours of his drive. He had his demons and didn’t need to risk letting that part of himself out while in the presence of a woman who’d never known that level of dysfunction. His daddy was a drunk man with a predisposition for violence. The very opposite of the kind of man Gale wanted to be.

“I’m fine to wait here” Lorena says.

“No” Gale swallows.

“You could ruin your bladder” Lorena tells Gale who smiles.

“I’ll be fine, doll” he scoffs.

“My Pa is a physician, he had a lot of patients in their old age suffering from incontinence, which means they can’t control their bladders.” Lorena explains.

“I know what it means, I’ll be fine Lorena” Gale says in an even tone. Smiling, Lorena turns away looking out the window as the sun begins to set. It was another thing that set Gale apart from the rest. She’d gone through life with the ability to charm the opposite sex with sweet smiles and fluttering lashes. Her granny always told her it was a danger to be so pretty - Gale seemed to think so too.

“What?” He asks, noticing her dimples.

“Just thinking about my Granny” she shares.

“Granny? You don’t send her any letters”

“No she’s passed on, something about you just now reminded me of her. She didn’t like many people either and was very protective. Took no advice or no nonsense, people gave her space and respect” Lorena explains. Gale shakes his head scoffing without comment. 

“A woman” he says finally, a callback to the Bucky debacle.

“I meant no offense Gale and besides, Granny was knockout - way prettier than you” Lorena teases getting a genuine laugh out of him. He’d received the pretty boy jokes his entire life, especially in the war. Never from a woman though. It reminded him of something Bucky would say. It was a strange thing to find the qualities you admire in someone who’d entered your life so unexpectedly but it was settling to both Gale and Lorena. Granny and Bucky have both been pillars of their lives during the times they were becoming the core of the people they were now. It’s dark when they arrive in the city, Gale takes the cases up to a room leaving Lorena confused. There was only one bedroom and one bed.

“Is there another room?” She asks looking up at Gale who seems ashamed.

“Not tonight, take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch, it’ll be safer that way” he explains as Lorena turns towards the door again. He’d spent practically an entire day on the road in an uncomfortable car, a couch would not suffice. “Before you start, I’ve slept in far worse conditions” Gale says, taking a seat.

Sighing Lorena says not another word to avoid a quarrel, she heads to the bathroom to freshen up and ready for bed. When Lorena had shown up at his door he was suspicious at first, a beautiful woman, young and with an unbelievable story. At first he was sure someone had sent her for him, then he was sure she was pregnant and looking to hide a child and then he was puzzled. She was remarkable and somehow through dumb luck or divine intervention she managed to travel all this way without knowing the evils of this world. Divorcee’s were usually more prickly around the edges but Lorena’s naivete shone through. Perhaps Gale hadn’t yet placed it but it had helped him come a long way. Done a lot to show him that his sacrifice had meant something to this world. That there were eyes that would never see the worst of it.

__________________

Noise startles Lorena, rousing her from a deep sleep. Turning she finds the other side of the bed empty once again. Waking, she swallows her bitterness like she had every day since she’d discovered another woman was a part of her marriage. Pulling on a housecoat she pads to the bedroom door only to find a sleepy looking Gale speaking to a tall smiling brunette.

“Gale, where’d you find her?” The man says pushing past Gale breaking all rules of decorum to shake Lorena’s hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips as he looks her in the eyes.

“You must be Bucky” Lorena smiles amused by his pageantry.

“That’s right,” Bucky smiles.

“I’m Lorena” she says and it takes some time for it to register. Bucky frowns a bit before turning to Gale in confusion.

“Buck, you didn’t say she was gorgeous. That’s not the kind of thing you leave out.” Bucky exclaims before turning back to Lorena. “Lorena, it’s a pleasure doll” Bucky says more respectably.

“Gales, a man of few words, he was conserving ink” you tease.

“Ohhhhh, I like her,” Bucky laughs, turning to Gale who nods knowingly.

“Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the women.” Bucky suggests.

“Not like this! I have to get ready!” Lorena says, alarmed.

“Might as well sit Egan, she’ll be awhile” Gale comments putting on a kettle.

“If you wake up like an angel, I’m all for seeing how you look all done up” Bucky says with his special brand of charm, it makes Lorena giggle. Gale had gotten used to her pageantry. At first it seemed silly, but he noticed how uncomfortable not being put together made her. Marge was beautiful too, drop dead gorgeous, the first time he’d laid eyes on her his heart stopped. They hadn’t had time to get to know each other really before the war. She was this woman who was perfect every time she appeared in front of him. There were no hairspray, cans and palettes of makeup and products, rollers and itons. There were no bottles of nail polish and strange scents about the house. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she’d left him for someone else. Perhaps he’d taken her for granted, perhaps he was too quiet, boring, reclusive and all the other things people said about him. He’d heard the commentary, grouchy recluse, tyrant, miserable hoot. He’d also heard the rumors started by the women. He was impotent or maybe the Germans had castrated him when he was captured. None of it was true, it was heartbreak although no one saw it that was. Just like no one could see through all Lorena’s pretty that she spent some nights sobbing. That sometimes all the makeup and pageantry was used to cover her puffy eyes and flushed skin. Sometimes the partying and drinking was her only medicine. It had occurred to Gale, watching Lorena over the past four months, that the women of the war had their own pain they had no outlets for. That they didn’t think twice about setting their pain aside for their men.

“She’s nice and beautiful - why’s she in the middle of nowhere with you?” Bucky whispers curiously.

“Her husband… ex-husband found someone in Europe and brought her back home. That’s about all I know, she doesn’t talk about it much”

“I bet you never asked” Bucky swallows, turning back to her door.

“I hate to see her upset Egan, whatever it is she’s run pretty far she clearly doesn’t want to face it” Gale explains.

“Is she a flirt?” Bucky asks.

“Not genuinely no, her hearts still hemmed up in her ex. I think it was real” Gale shares with a close eye on the door.

“Well she doesn’t look hard to love” Egan comments leaving Buck to shake his head. “What about Marge, you hear from her?” He asks.

Gale sighs, tasting bitterness in his mouth, “No, but I think she'd be doing well in Hollywood, with that big producer. The mountains aren't her idea of happiness. I tried fighting for her - she doesn’t want me” he confesses with defeat.

“Screw it, there are plenty of good women out there, bad ones too - I know where to find those” Egan winks, making Buck laugh.

“Ready” Lorena smiles all done up in her finery. A touch more than even Gale was used to but they were in the city now and it seemed appropriate to bring her nicer items out of hiding.

“Where the hell did you find her?” Egan whispers as the three of them take the stairs to the party.

It had been months since Lorena was truly happy to throw a party. It was like a fish getting back in the water, she couldn’t help but smile along with the other women. In two hours she had the hall all done up for the 100th Bombardment Groups reunion. It looked swell, especially the champagne tower she’d managed all on her own. Everyone likes her sunny disposition and warm smile. She’d also disappeared with the women for the first two hours of the reunion, Gale knew it was to beautify them. He’d never met a person that enjoyed seeing others at their best as much as Lorena. The way the other woman clung to her and the way they laughed made his day. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that ever, he’d never seen her so happy. This seemed to be her element. She was a people person, generous with her time and natural abilities. She seemed to be so comfortable entertaining, a debutant of sorts. Even the wait staff was at her mercy getting drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the men and women of the reunion. Every time Gale took his eyes off of her she’d magically teleport to another corner of the room.

This reunion was therapeutic for Lorena, to see the men smiling and whole after all they’d endured. They were generous with the stories of their experiences both good and bad. She wasn’t prepared for some of the horrors she heard but they only made her appreciate the men all the more. Reggie had been on land while they had been in the sky. After learning about their “bloody hundredth' moniker she found herself thankful that Reggie had made it home whole, even if he didn’t love her the way he did before he left. Lorena hadn’t expected to host parties every weekend but she’d hoped to make a home for him, invite his comrades over, host, have children and give him something to look forward to so he could put the horrors of the past behind him.

Feeling her mood dip Lorena heads to the bar trading the happy bubbly for her newly acquired bad habit of whisky. The bartender gives her a glass and she turns to the party happening around her. Sipping the strong liquid she turns away from Alexander Jefferson and his wife. They share a kiss and it brings back fond memories. Spinning around on the barstool she looks at the glass of the liquor display trying to quiet the heartbreak in her chest. Reggie had been devoted to her like that once upon a time.

“Whisky” she hears from behind her only to see Bucky.

“A touch more ladylike than the moonshine the boys drink at the lakehouse” Lorena smiles.

“Don’t do that, not for me. Don’t pretend to be happy Lo - there’s nothing sadder” Bucky comments with sympathetic eyes. Smiling, she blinks away her tears. “I had all these grand plans and then I was in prison and week after week not a single letter. All the guys had their sweethearts and I had to find my own reasons” Bucky tells her candidly. It’s a deeply personal thing to share and incredibly vulnerable.

“Have you found anyone yet?” Lorena asks hopefully.

“Not yet, the guys write to me though” Bucky says.

“I will too and I’ll keep an eye out for you” Lorena adds, making Bucky smile.

“What’s your story, how does a city girl end up in the mountains?” Bucky asks, causing Lorena to drain her glass. Tapping the glass onto the bartop she beckons another needing more liquid courage for her truth.

“Reggie, my ex husband, was in the war. We were just married before he left, newly weds of sorts at least it was still the honeymoon. We had friends and a home and people say perfection doesn’t exist but I had no complaints. We were so complimentary, nothing he did annoyed me. He went over and heaven only knows what he saw, I understand it was horrible, I do, and my heart seems a small price to pay for his life but it's hard all the same” Lorena confesses wiping away stray tears. “He came back and it was different. He was trying to fill the shoes of what we had been. Bucky he’d never tried before. It was as easy as breathing, then I found letters from her and then I saw them together and as much as it hurt I was relieved. You know when you love someone that much it hurts to live with a ghost or a shell of them. So when I saw them and all my intuition was confirmed I left. Reggie didn’t need another great battle and it would’ve soured into resentment if I stayed. If I stayed at home I couldn’t survive it so I drove.” Lorena shrugs, wiping away more teats.

Bucky nods a few stray tears falling out of his own eyes.

“If I ever meet that sorry son of a bitch” he comments, making her smile. She takes her new glass of whisky, taking a sip as he stares at her. “I can tell you one thing for sure Lorena and I know men, your Reggie is a coward. A real man would’ve told the truth and carried the burden. You shouldn’t have had to run, you did nothing wrong but I’m glad to have met you. Glad to know you.” Bucky smiles, holding out a hand to her. Smiling, she shakes it.

“Likewise” Lorena agrees.

“I know what I’m gonna call you,” he smiles.

“What? Buck-ette?” Lorena teases, making him laugh.

“Angel,” he nods.

“Why Angel?” Lorena asks.

“Cause you're too good for this world” Bucky nods. “The kind of woman us men pray for” Bucky says.

Sitting at the bar Lorena finishes her drink and Bucky gets through three before he's up dancing and singing. He’s a hell of a good time, they dance together as friends until she overheats and finds a seat. Fanning herself as she watches Bucky go off on a tear she can't help but laugh. Familiar cologne tells her Gale is near and he sits in his perfectly tailored uniform. Lorena had known he was a good man but she never dreamed he was the kind of hero he was to these men. Brave, loyal, dependable and adventurous.

“Haven't seen you dance” Lorena comments.

“I don't dance,” Gale responds.

“No of course not” Lorena smiles watching Bucky belt out the words to the record playing.

“You have quite the moves”

“I was a debutant, there were lessons upon lessons and then there were lots of parties and I loved to dance. Seems silly now, but it's still a good time” Lorena confesses happily.

“Angel, I need you for the next one!” Bucky walls from the floor.

“Angel?”

“I’m officially one of you now, I’ve got my nickname” Lorena winks standing to smooth her dress. Watching them, Gale feels a curious longing in his chest. She fit so well he wondered if maybe the warm reception from his comrades at arms and neighbors in the mountains meant maybe they could be something more.

[majorgale]

✈︎ masterlist ✈︎

to be updated soon...

Masters of the Air to be added...

Dune to be added...

Actors to be added...

tags

[honeyskywitch]

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

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

Words: 1.8K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna call you Peach."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Only Truth... | Part Three

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 6337

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

April 21, 1945

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you did not belong in this place.

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

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

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

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

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

“But you’re actually injured…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing back here?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re healing bones and I’m not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thirty more seconds.” He whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get back, schwester.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read Part Four

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

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

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

I'll come pick it up after pt.7

John Egan X Female! Reader

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

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

Word count: 2.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 8⬇️

[saturnville]

and I drove you crazy, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“I wanted to talk to you, Rose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amelia--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

[saturnville]

i come to you on my knees (i’m ovulating) BEGGING for a black!fem!reader fic where bucky is the fucking munch he is PLEASE

poetry in motion, major john egan

pairing: john egan x she (black!fem!reader) warning: 18+ sexual situations and descriptions. content: in which john teaches her a thing or two about bodily poetry. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum an: I don't typically write smut, so I hope this met your expectations at least just a little bit.

John Egan was known to be an impulsive man. He acted animalistically, on instinct and emotion rather than logical and thoughtful comprehension. When it came to her, however, he was more meticulous, patient, and calculated. Slow and intentional.

She was like him, an enigma. A code that took much time to decode. The rearranging of pieces (his approach) would occur many times before the lock clicked and fell off the guard box that kept her withdrawn from him. Then a dark door opened and the safe guarded treasure was revealed.

It didn’t come without struggle and resistance. Even upon agreement, she still shuddered at every attempt to pull her soul from her body. Her hands fisted the neutral sheets beneath her as her legs shook like leaves in the wind.

The scene from his perspective was tantalizing. Her eyelids sat low and her brown eyes were hardly visible, but still, he maintained a piercing gaze with her. That, in combination with the impassioned feeling of his mouth against her sensitivity, was overstimulating.

Her stomach clenched as she writhed against the sheets. She sobbed woefully, her nails scraping against his shoulder as she attempted to back away. It was too much.

For just a moment, she got a break. But, it didn’t last long. The dampness of his tongue was replaced by the skin deemed of his fingers. She jolted as her eyes shot open.

John Egan was salacious. Dripping with sensuality and eroticism. Beneath the faint light of the candles, he stood as a shadow above her. He had shed his jacket and was dressed in a wonderfully fitting black t-shirt. His hair was tousled from her constant tugging and his lips. Her eyes rolled backward at the sight. Swollen and dripping.

She sighed his name slowly and closed her legs around his forearm. He shook his head in disapproval and pushed her thighs open with his free hand. “Keep them open.” His voice dripped with arousal. She put up a good fight, but lost when the overwhelming pressure began to boil over.

He was attentive. Her end was near and he knew it. And how desperate he was to bask in it all. Once more, he found his place between her thighs. His eyes trailed the richness of her skin as he gently placed her legs on his shoulders.

She was enticing. From her scent to the way she tasted on his tongue. Sweet and succulent. He found himself getting lost in her pleasure. From the way, she screamed his name and begged for mercy. Oh, how he would pay to stay in this position forever.

“John,” she squealed, sitting up on her elbows. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill. His blue eyes shifted upward to meet hers. “Please…” He hummed. She screamed.

It reverberated against the walls and fueled the fire that burned within him. He’d store it to keep him warm for the rest of eternity.

With a string of whimpers and incoherent words, she came down from the high she rode deliciously. Her bare chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath.

She held her hand out tiredly, desiring his closeness. John wiped his lips with the pad of his thumb and crawled on top of her shuddering frame, dropping kisses against her neck, cheek, then lips. “You okay?”

She grinned tirelessly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She’d waited a long time for a moment like this and she was glad she held out for him. She nodded and pecked his lips again, “I’m okay. I’ll feel better if you do it again…”

John’s eyebrow quipped in amusement. A sultry smile crept on her lips. He said lowly, “Yeah?”

She opened her thighs just enough to slot his body between then engulfed him. Her hands dropped to his pants which were secured by his belt. John’s eyes fell. She nodded, “Yeah.”

Who was he to deny that? Only a fool would do such a thing, and John Egan was no fool.

[saturnville]

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

a different era, major john egan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[saturnville]

sad girl, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

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

song reference: sad girl by lana del rey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

likes are nice, but please share feedback, friends!

[saturnville]

let me love you, major john egan

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’re you doing up so early?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[saturnville]

marry me, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: john proposes to amelia mae.

an: I told y'all I'd write it eventually, hehe

John Egan did not have marriage in his cards. It seemed like a farfetch idea that was unattainable; at one point undesirable. He was a playboy, a rolling stone; women, alcohol, and the infamous party life at his fingertips. Those things consumed his life like a fire, until her cool waters calmed the flames. 

He didn’t consider himself to be marriage material. He was selfish. Impulsive. Immature. The qualities any woman would reject in a good husband. But, she peeled back the layers and helped him discover what was under the surface. He was kind, gentle, protective, and so loving. To her, he was a dream. 

Amelia Mae was the kind of women to never let slip through the cracks. She was too good of a woman to not be desired by other men. He would be a fool to not make every effort to spend the rest of his life with her. Who would he be without her? 

Within two weeks, he had a velvet box with a gold ring inside, waiting to encase her finger. He was nervous. Nervous that he’d say the wrong thing, that he wouldn’t say enough, or that she’d reject his proposal an dhe be left feeling like a fool. 

But, they’d grown so much together, they’d spent so much time together, they’d loved each other more than life itself. Would she really? 

John caught her off guard. She was bustling around the kitchen trying to ensure the brownies for dessert were perfect. Crunchy on the outsid eand gooey in the middle just as they liked. She search the cabinets for powdered sugar, and when she turned around, she found the pilot on one knee, shiny gold ring staring at her. “Johnny…”

“I kept trying to find all the right words to say, but I don’t think words could amount to what I want to say. I just know that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my days with you. Rose, will you marry me?” 

Amelia placed the bag of sugar on the table beside her. Her moves were slow and calculated. Her watery eyes dropped to the ring. Just as she described. Gold with the prettiest square diamond in the center. Stunning. She nodded slowly, a shaky smile on her lips as she tried not to cry like a baby. 

“Yes?” John asked, eyes hopeful. Amelia repeated his statement with more authority and nodded. John let out a sigh of relief and smiled like a kid in the candy store. Slowly, he pulled the ring out of the box and slid it on her left hand. She examined it in awe.

“I tied down Major John Egan. Do I get an award?” She giggled softly. John rolled his eyes playfully and stood to his feet. He swept his thumb under her eye to wipe away the fallen tears and shook his head. 

“Ha ha,” he replied, unamused. “But I don’t know, make it to the back fast enough and you might.”

Amelia’s lips pursed and her eyebrows raised in interest. She eyed the brownies on the eye of the oven then her fiance. She swiped one off the counter and skipped to the bedroom. “Don’t keep me waiting!” 

With a chuckle, John watched her go, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the thought of spending the rest of his days with her As he followed her into the bedroom, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the woman who had changed his life in ways he never thought possible. In their shared moment, he knew that he had found his forever in Amelia Mae.

[saturnville]

amor aeternus, major john egan

origin: latin. pronunciation: uh-mor eh-ter-nos. meaning: everlasting love

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: this serves as the masterlist for Major John "Bucky" Egan of the 2024 Apple TV show, Masters of the Air, and black!fem!oc, Amelia Mae. please be advised that all works are works of fiction. find all related works below the cut.

sweet goodbyes. in which John is being shipped to England; his departure comes with sweet goodbyes.

home to you. John returns after spending time away in the war.

can I call you rose? a flashback to one of the first interactions of John and Amelia.

stolent moments. John manages to call Amelia after not hearing her voice for weeks.

dancing with a stranger. an alternative meeting between John and Amelia Mae.

marry me. in which John proposes to Amelia Mae.

sad girl. in the beginning stages of their relationship, Amelia finds herself questioning John and the nature of their relationship.

and I drove you crazy. John is serious about Amelia and plans to prove it to her. part 2 to sad girl.

let me love you. intimate moments between John and Amelia. 18+ steam.

promise of love. in which John meets Amelia's parents.

from me to you. John receives a letter from Amelia while being held as a POW in Germany.

[saturnville]

safe and sound, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae egan content: john manages to sneak away for london for a weekend and amelia meets him there. what he isn't expecting is a front-rowto seat to destruction. warning: descriptions of war. song: safe and sound by taylor swift (2012 version) tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum

At home, people-watching was an activity they both enjoyed. It was a Sunday morning activity before the local church service. His warm hands around her thighs would pull her out of her slumber where she’d be awakened by a bowl of oatmeal and a steaming mug of coffee. 

They’d migrate to the living room and she’d perch herself on his lap, running her hands through his hair as they watched the leaves sway by the wind. 

This wasn’t that. What was usually a blue sky, lit up red and white like the Fourth of July; thunderous booms and bangs that shook the building. Boom. Boom. Boom. A raging affair. No people to wave at as they walked down the sidewalk, but bodies collapsing against pavements, lifeless and still. What was usually enjoyable, was torment.

He fidgeted under her, the urge to glance out the window stronger than he preferred.

“Relax, honey,” she whispered against the shell of his ear. Her lips wrapped around the tip of his ear, nipping along the soft flesh. She smiled at the soft whimpers he failed to conceal. “Don’t look at that, look at me,” she instructed softly, using her hand to cup his jaw. Her nails pressed against his face lightly, small crescents imprinting against his skin. “Look at me, it’s okay.” 

It wasn’t okay; she knew that. It was far from okay. There was a war waging outside their door and the culpability was eating him alive. She could tell by the way his body stiffened, his eyes faltered, and his hands gripped the edge of the couch. It was a complex situation; a soldier witnessing the brutality he initiated on others. Buildings fell, ashes rose, and screams echoed against the trees. They echoed in his ears like echoes of a snare drum. How could he stomach it without feeling the guilt crawl up his throat like bile? 

“Amelia…” She swallowed his sounds like her favorite dessert, sweet and airy in her mouth. He was hesitant as his hands slipped off the edge of the couch and came around her waist. His palms were cold from sitting near the window, stinging her warm skin. 

His voice was hardly audible over the sounds of destruction outside. His eyes pleaded with hers for reassurance, for a promise that everything would soon pass, and Sundays would be their portion. 

Amelia’s thumb traced the scar on his cheek, her touch calming the raging seas within him. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m right here with you.” She brushed her lips against his forehead, offering him a tender kiss filled with reassurance. 

John's grip on her waist tightened, seeking solace in her embrace. His heart ached with the weight of what he had witnessed, the echoes of destruction reverberating through his mind. 

Amelia combed through his hair lovingly, guarding his view from the window with her arm. Who would have known it would have come to this, she thought. Where it all came crashing down. But, she’d always be there to catch him when he fell. And nothing would change that.

[saturnville]

on the frontline, II

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (major lanessa "nessa" dixon) content: the bond between nessa and john begins to grow. warnings: medical inaccuracies. an: Nessa is inspired by major della raney jackson, first black major of the army nurse corps. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum

“You know, Dixon, you’re really pretty.” 

Nessa’s hands halted momentarily. She raised her gaze to meet his blue eyes, which twinkled with mischief and temptation. She squinted slightly and shook her head. She nodded toward his arm which he raised just slightly. 

Weeks had passed since the gunshot and he had made significant progress. He was able to start physical therapy early with her and a series of shadowing nurses, but, with his job, Nessa made it a priority to ensure he was in the best shape. He missed flying and she wanted to make sure he was able to get to at least one more mission before everything was said and done. 

“Is that so?” Nessa questioned, pulling the bandages off his healing wounds. Her gloved fingers traced the scar. It was healing nicely; the swelling was going down, the stitches were still in place, and the tissue was scarring healthily. She felt John jump at her touch. 

John nodded. Her knee nudged his thigh which prompted him to spread his legs just wide enough for her to stand between them. He hummed at the warmth that entered his space and fought an internal battle to keep his hand to himself. To run his fingertips along the curves that were prominent even with being covered by thick pants.

Nessa turned and swiped cleaning solution, cotton pads, and bandage off the side table. The cooling solution was ice against body, which seemed to heat in her presence. Nessa’s left hand held the cotton in place as her right placed the bandage across his chest. Her hands were small against his body and they felt so good. 

“Well, thank you. You’re too kind. Lift your arm for me, beloved.” That was new, John noted. He obeyed her command. “How does that feel?” Better, he admitted. Nessa started him out on light exercises to regain mobility, and while it wasn’t as painful as it had been in the beginning stages, he still felt discomfort. 

“Are you lying to me, Major?” She asked teasingly, tilting her head to search any signs of discomfort on his face. His eyebrows were slightly knitted together and his jaw was locked she poked his shoulder. He failed to meet her eyes. “Thought so.” 

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, “I don’t want to deal with this shit.” Nessa hummed and removed herself from her position between his legs and crawled over the bed. She was positioned on her knees and she cleared her throat. “What are you doing?

She peeled the gloves off her hands and shoved them in her pocket. She moved her hair over her shoulder and placed her hands on his shoulders.“Relax, Egan.” Her touch was gentle as she used her left hand to control his elbow while stabilizing his shoulder with her right. Slowly, she moved his stiff limb forward, backward, upwards, and downward until the wincing was no more. 

It was painfully intimate, she noted. Two military professionals in the infirmary by themselves on a small bed together. Granted, she was doing her job, but something about the interaction felt different. She found herself enjoying it. Of course she enjoyed being a nurse; it was her passion. But this was different. Not only did she feel needed, but she felt wanted, too. It was an unusual feeling that she couldn’t shake. 

“How about now?” Nessa’s voice was hardly above a whisper. John turned his head though not far enough to look her in the eyes. She did see, however, the fullness of his lips as he replied, “A lot better.”

“Good,” she replied, seemingly infatuated with the ridges of his back. She tried to control herself, but it was a losing battle. Her fingertip traced the scar that went from the center of his back to his right shoulder. She remembered the story. His plane was struck and he needed to evacuate and a piece of the parachute contraption cut through his jacket and sliced through his flesh. “That’s good.” 

At the low groan he released, which sounded heavenly, she snapped back to reality and dropped her hand. She stammered embarrassingly and scrambled off the bed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Go ahead and get your shirt on; I’ll grab the ice, and get you off to bed.” 

John’s voice was stuck in his throat. “Nessa,” he called, but by the time the last syllable slipped from his lips, she was already in the neighboring room, gathering ice. 

She didn’t say much when she returned. She instructed him to lay on his back so she could properly ice his shoulder. John’s blue eyes burned holes into her head as she massaged the ice against his skin. 

“Are you okay?” he found himself asking. Nessa nodded once, “I’m okay.” 

He gave her a look. She gave him a closed-lip smile. She repeated, “I’m okay. We’ll ice for five more minutes and you can be on your way.” 

The five minutes passed quicker than he would have liked. They engaged in small conversation, being that’s all he could get out of her at the point. Her demeanor had shifted greatly, and while he wanted to question it, John didn’t want to pressure her to speak. 

“You’re good to go,” Nessa said, tossing the bag of ice on a nearby surface. 

As John prepared to leave the infirmary, Nessa's gaze lingered on him, a mixture of emotions swirling in her eyes. She wanted to say something, to express the thoughts racing through her mind, but the words remained trapped in her throat. Instead, she offered a small, hesitant smile, hoping he would understand the silent message behind it.

 John met her gaze, his eyes reflecting a similar uncertainty, yet tinged with a hint of desire. With a nod of gratitude, he stood up from the bed, his shoulder feeling much better than before. 

As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway, casting one last glance back at Nessa. In that fleeting moment, they shared an unspoken connection, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that was forming between them. With a final nod, John stepped out into the corridor, leaving Nessa alone with her thoughts, her heart beating a little faster than usual. What had she done?

[saturnville]

I just got an idea for another part of the letter series: John writes to Amelia that he worries she’s not going to like this version of himself. He’s just filled with a lot of doubt and he understands if she wants to end things where it’s at. Amelia assures John that she’s with him now & forever.

a letter to you, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae egan warning: implicit discussions about mental health content: in which john writes to amelia about his doubts. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum an: I want all to know that in my mind, amelia and john stay together until they die and she changed her middle name to rose.

John Egan’s mind was under attack. Bullets of doubt and missiles of hopelessness infiltrated the barriers that were once sturdy and stable. Everything came crashing down like the walls of Jericho. 

Days felt longer as their time in Germany grew elongated. The nights dragged by and never seemed to end. The only thing that lulled him to sleep were the words of Amelia Mae on the now-wrinkled sheet of paper he kept in the pocket of his coat. It was the blood for his body; the only thing that kept him alive. 

He had no issue falling asleep most nights. All other nights, however, his heavy eyes stayed open and refused to close. So, he did what was unusual for him to do--write. He’d sulk off into a corner with one of the oil lamps, pull out a sheet of dingy paper, and write until his hand cramped and his tears signed his signature for him. 

My darlin’ Amelia Rose, 

I hear we’re gettin’ out of here soon. I surely hope that’s the cause; I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this. The Germans are intense; always on guard and ready to strike at any moment. One wrong move, or even just a wrong breath, lands a man dead. I’ve seen more bodies collapse just tryin’ to survive in the camp than I did in the air. 

Stuff like this changes a man, Rose. The guys are convinced I lost it ‘cause repeating old ball games is the only thing the keeps my mind off the horrors of being a damn prisoner. I haven’t eaten a real meal since the day I left you. I haven’t felt the warmth of my own bed and it makes me as cold as I feel at night. 

Rose, I don’t know what it’s gonna be like when I come home.

I’ve heard stories of when men make it home to their ladies; not all of them are good. He ends up chasing her away. I don’t want to chase you away, but I don’t want to hurt you either. This version of me is not the one you knew and I don’t know if you’ll love him like you did the other version of me.

I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep through the night. I’m just…here. 

And if you don’t want to be with me because of that, I understand. It would hurt, but I would get it. You’re a good woman, Rose and I don’t want to make you feel any sort of pain.

I’ve got to get back to my bunk before someone notices I’m missing, or even worse, the Germans find out I’m awake. 

I think about you always and miss you dearly. Write back soon. 

With all my love, 

Johnny

It took three weeks to receive something back from her. He thought he’d be used to it by now, the waiting game, that is. But at this point, anxiety was his portion and fed him well. The mind games began to get more complex as the voices of uncertainty spurred him on with tricks. What she divorced him? Left him high and dry because he wasn’t the same. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself. 

John huffed as he played with the corners of the most recent (three week old) letter he received. The other man were gathered around the child-like sized tables playing cards, talking, and joking. They were better at making the most of situations than he was. He was good at it for some time, but the repetition grew old, and the song he knew so well became unfamiliar. 

A familiar, “Mail, boys!” came ruggedly from the doorway. The men scattered like flies, sorting and sifting through the letters. John’s eyes lit up as he stood to his feet, gratefully taking the letter from the mailman’s hand. He sauntered off to a corner and slid down the wall. 

Her handwriting was just as pretty as it always had been. Major John Egan, written in the middle with a red pen. It was his favorite color because it reminded him of her cherry red lip stick that stained his skin whenever she wore it. John tore the top of the envelope and pulled the letter out. His heartrate increased. 

Dear John, 

I can’t help but say that it pains me to know that you think I’d leave you. Do you remember the vows we took? For better or for worse and in sickness and in health? If I didn’t believe I could stand by those words, I wouldn’t have said them. And, I knew I married a soldier. This comes with the territory. 

You’ve seen things I would deem unimaginable. You’ve heard things that would drive me mad. You’ve felt a pain that I couldn’t picture. Do you know how foolish I would be to think you’d come back the same way you left? 

When I married you, I married the versions of you that you and I have yet to see. 

I am here for you, John Egan. I’m not going anywhere. 

The light at the end of the tunnel isn’t clear to you right now, and that’s okay. We’ll work on it when you come home. We are a unit; we move together. So, we’ll get through it. Together. 

Get some rest, John. It’s not over for you--your story doesn’t end here. 

With everlasting love,  

Rose

He wasn’t aware of his tears until they smeared the lipstick stain on the lower corner. John brought the letter to his face, inhaling the scent of her perfume. So sweet. She’d wait for him. She wouldn’t, no she refused to leave him. 

How good it felt to be loved by her.