#liebgotts lovergirl

[softguarnere]

2, 21, & 22 for the Choosing Violence ask game pls, bestie!! 💖

Welcome back bestie! 💕 Thanks for the ask!

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

(gonna pop these under the cut in case this one is slightly NSFW lol)

asdfghjkl okAy, obviously I have given this one consideration, and I just truly feel that Bill would secretly like being the bottom, and that after realizing it, he would not want to go back to topping. However, I think he would have to have the right partner before admitting to this openly. Send tweet -

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Is it awful if I say the book? (can that even be my answer??)💀 Don't get me wrong, as a historian, I understand how hard it is to keep the facts straight and relay them in a manner that's both informative and entertaining - HOWEVER, it just seems that the more biographies I read of the men, the more mistakes in the book there are that get pointed out. Things like the issue with Ron and his wife, Shifty defying Shames' order, etc. If I were them, I would have been upset with Ambrose too, tbh

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

I think some of the humor gets overlooked. The quick quips that you only notice when doing a rewatch, like Lip's "Yeah boy!" at mail call, or anything Harry says. I just think it's a good illustration of the humanity, the bright spots that you can find in the midst of darkness, how humans have always been like this, etc.

For this ask game!

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Racing Hearts - Part 1 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc, a beloved and celebrated F1 driver, yearns for a meaningful connection amidst the glitz and glamour of his high-profile job. As the Monaco GP is around the corner, he fatefully crosses paths with Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary girl who captures his heart with her genuine personality and kind spirit.

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: Sooo, this is my first F1 Story :) I hope you enjoy it. It's a typical romance for all you romance lovers out there ;) Like, Reblog, tell me what you think :D It's highly appreciated!

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe (I thought, you might enjoy this ;))

The streets of Monaco shimmered under the golden rays of the sun, casting an ethereal glow upon the grand city. You stood at the edge of the bustling harbor, your eyes wide with wonder. You had arrived in this glamorous playground by chance, a spontaneous detour on your adventure across Europe. The winding cobblestone streets, the opulent yachts bobbing in the azure waters, and the hum of wealthy tourists filled the air, creating an atmosphere of indulgence and sophistication.

Your Y/H/C hair fell softly around your sun-kissed shoulders as your Y/E/C eyes scanned the crowd, searching for your best friend, Sofia. Minutes turned into an impatient eternity until, finally, a familiar figure emerged from the throng. Sofia Santoro, her dark hair cascading down her back, approached with a radiant smile that reached her warm brown eyes. You embraced, reuniting after weeks of exploration and discovery.

"Y/N!" Sofia exclaimed, her voice alive with excitement. "You won't believe the sights I've seen! And the food... Oh, you have to try the pastries here. They're heavenly."

You chuckled, your spirited personality shining through. Sofia lived here for a year now, and finally, you came to visit your best friend. "I can't wait to hear all about it, Sof. Monaco truly is a dream."

As you strolled through the luxurious streets, your laughter mingling with the splash of waves, an unexpected occurrence startled them. You stumbled, your steps faltering as if an invisible force had collided with you.

"What is it?" you asked your best friend, but Sofia just looked at you, confused.

"I didn't say anything... But hey, there is that store I told you about. Be right baaack", she sings as she walked away into the store across from the harbor.

You, meanwhile, stood at the edge of the Monte Carlo harbor, your eyes wide with wonder as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the glistening water. The air was thick with anticipation as if the city itself was holding its breath, awaiting the arrival of someone extraordinary.

You took a deep breath, the salty scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of fresh pastries wafting from a nearby café. Your heart fluttered with excitement as you adjusted the strap of your worn leather backpack, the only constant companion on your solo adventure across Europe.

"A breathtaking view, isn't it?"

You turned your head, Y/E/C eyes meeting the warm gaze of a stranger beside you. Chestnut hair, emerald green eyes, and a smile that could light up the night sky - it was as if destiny had brought you together at this very moment. Your heart skipped a beat as you stumbled back, blushing furiously.

"Uh, yes, it is," you stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The young man chuckled, a sound that was both melodic and infectious. "Apologies if I startled you. I couldn't help but notice your awe as you took in the beauty of Monaco."

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, your Y/H/C waves tumbling down to frame your face. "It's just...I've dreamed of visiting this place for so long. And to see it like this, it's...magical."

"I couldn't agree more," he replied, extending a hand. "I'm Charles, by the way."

You couldn't say much as you were captivated by him. "Euh Y/N," you managed to squeak out, a shaky hand reaching out to meet his.

Your fingers intertwined an electric current passing between you. At that moment, the noise of the bustling harbor faded, and it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," Charles said, genuine warmth in his voice. "Are you enjoying your time in Monaco?"

You nodded, a shy smile gracing her lips. "I am. I've been traveling across Europe, and this is my last stop. My best friend moved here last year. Her dad is a designer, and she took over the store here. But it feels...right, being here."

Charles's eyes sparkled with interest as he leaned in closer. "And for how long are you staying?"

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But with Charles, there was a certain comfort, an inexplicable connection that compelled you to share the truth.

"I actually don't have a set schedule. I'm a freelance photographer taking a break, so I... have no obligations."

Charles chuckled, his cute dimples appearing on his cheeks. "That actually sounds quite nice. Not having any obligations, I mean."

You smiled at him as the bell on the store door rang, and Sofia made her way back to you. 

"Okay, I've got everything, we can... go," Sofia said, the last word hesitant, finally noticing Charles. "Uh, hi," she greeted, and Charles nodded in response with a small smile. 

A young man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Charles walked out onto the street from behind him. You guessed that this must be his brother. He called out something in French and waved at Charles, eyeing him for a second, before disappearing back into the restaurant. 

"I have to go," Charles said. "But maybe we'll see each other again, Y/N. It was really nice meeting you."

He nodded at Sofia before following his brother into the restaurant. You watched him leave with a content smile. 

"Oh my god! Do you know who that was?!" Sofia exclaimed as soon as Charles was gone. 

You looked at her, confused, while you shrugged. "He said his name is Charles."

"Yeah, Charles fucking Leclerc! The Formula 1 driver? Don't tell me you don't know him?"

Sofia raised her eyebrows at you, making you feel foolish. 

"What?"

Sofia put her hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. "You just flirted with one of the most famous Formula 1 drivers there is. He's from Monaco, and you, my dear, didn't even recognize him."

"Why would I? I've never watched Formula 1!" you defended yourself. 

Sofia shook her head. "No, you haven't. But he definitely had his eyes on you, girl." Sofia smiled widely and nudged you.

"So? It's not like I'm going to see him again," You shrugged, turning your gaze back to the ocean. 

"Oh, don't be so quick to dismiss it, girlfriend. Monaco is a magical place. And if he wants to find you, he will find you, I promise."

Meanwhile, at the restaurant, the Leclerc family had gathered, rejoicing in the reunion of all the children back in Monaco.

"Who was that? Another tourist fan?" Arthur inquired, settling down beside their mother, Pascale, and their brother Lorenzo.

"No, actually, she wasn't," Charles responded. "I don't think she even knew who I was."

Pascale glanced at her two sons. "What are you talking about, mon chéris?" she asked just as their entrees arrived.

"Charles was talking to a girl outside. I thought she was a fan," Arthur explained, and Pascale turned her attention to Charles.

"A girl?"

Charles seemed slightly irritated by his younger brother. "It's nothing, Maman. We were just discussing Monaco, nothing more."

Pascale studied her son's face. She knew him well enough to sense that there was more to the story than met the eye.

She sighed. "Well, as long as you don't plan on rekindling things with that dreadful Isabella..."

"Maman!" Lorenzo interjected, shaking his head slightly.

"What? They're not together anymore, so I can speak my mind, can't I?" Pascale asked, looking at Charles, who shook his head, annoyed.

Charles loved his mother, but she had a tendency to be outspoken, even when it would be best to hold her tongue. Charles knew his mother had never approved of his ex-girlfriend, Isabella Rossi. They had met at a charity event in Monaco, where Isabella's wealthy businessman father and her career as a model brought them together.

Initially, Isabella was sweet and caring, and Charles had fallen deeply in love with her. However, after four years, his feelings changed. When he confided in his brothers, best friend Pierre, and his athletic trainer Andrea Ferrari, they all agreed that their relationship had become toxic.

Ending things with Isabella hadn't been easy for Charles. The life of a Formula 1 driver could be lonely, constantly jetting around the world. Having someone who cared about him was a comfort. But eventually, Charles accepted the fact that his feelings had faded, and he ended the relationship. Needless to say, Isabella didn't take it well.

That had been a month ago, and ever since, she had made numerous attempts to win him back. As the Monaco Grand Prix was just around the corner, she knew Charles was back home.

"You can, Maman, and you know it. But can we just enjoy dinner and talk about something else?" Charles asked, digging into his pasta.

"She was really pretty," Arthur chimed in, causing Lorenzo and Charles to look at him, perplexed. Arthur couldn't be referring to Isabella. Arthur, noticing his brothers' confusion, rolled his eyes. "The girl outside? She was really pretty. Are you going to see her again?"

Charles glanced at Arthur for a moment. "Why would I?" he asked, although deep down, he wanted to. There was something about Y/N that stirred something inside him as if she were something special.

"Why not? Don't tell me you don't want to see her again. I saw the way you looked at her, Charles."

Charles took a deep breath. "Even if I wanted to, Art, I don't have her number, just her first name. I don't even know where she's from."

Arthur looked at Charles with an exasperated expression. "Are you shitting me?"

"Arthur!" Pascale immediately intervened.

"Sorry, Ma. But seriously, Charles. You know that if you want to find her, you will. We all know that. So get off your ass and go find that girl!"

"Is she really that special?" Lorenzo asked, looking at Charles.

The middle brother hesitated and then nodded. "I don't know why, but I have this feeling that our story isn't finished yet."

Pascale kept a watchful eye on her son. She took a deep breath and spoke up. "Then why don't you look for her, Charles? If she truly is that special."

Charles looked surprised at his mother. Pascale wasn't one to believe in fate, but if even she was advising him to pursue it, then he knew he should.

He set his fork down and gazed at his family, one by one. "Okay, starting tomorrow, we'll begin searching for Y/N."

"We?" Lorenzo immediately questioned, but Arthur simply nodded and grinned.

Basking in the warm Mediterranean sun, you and Sofia lounged beside the pool at Sofia's opulent apartment the next morning, which her father had graciously rented for her. You relaxed, sipping on glasses of wine and sharing laughter as you reminisced about your European escapades. However, Sofia's mischievous grin indicated that she had something up her sleeve.

"Sooo, Y/N," Sofia said, her grin widening, "Oh my gosh! I can't get over what went down yesterday with Charles Leclerc!"

You blushed slightly, attempting to downplay the encounter. "Oh, come on, Sof. It wasn't that big of a deal. We just chatted for a few minutes. It doesn't mean anything."

Sofia playfully raised an eyebrow. "No big deal? I saw the way he looked at you, and trust me, that wasn't ordinary. Charles is a charming guy, but he's not usually so forward with strangers."

You took a sip of her wine, trying to conceal your excitement, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, he was simply being friendly, right? I mean, he interacts with fans all the time. I didn't even know who he was until you told me."

Sofia shook her head, her grin refusing to fade. "Are you serious? The way he gazed at you, Y/N. Trust me, he knows you left an impression."

You shook your head at your friend, well aware of Sofia's tendency to read too much into things. "Yeah, right."

"But Y/N, I've seen Charles with fans before. He's usually reserved, quiet. Yet with you, it was like there was something more. He couldn't take his eyes off of you," Sofia stated, sitting up from the sunbed and raising her sunglasses. "I'm serious!"

You looked at your best friend, your cheeks tinged with a hint of red. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. It was just a chance encounter, nothing more."

Sofia's eyes sparkled with excitement as she continued to prod. "Oh, come on, Y/N! You can't deny the connection between you two. It was written all over his face."

You rolled your eyes. "Could you just stop? I'm not even looking for someone at the moment, and you know that. After everything that happened with Oliver..."

Sofia sighed. "I know, I know. He was a jerk, and you've sworn off love. Got it." She slipped her sunglasses back on. "But I'm still rooting for the perfect celebrity love story." She reclined back into her chair.

You glanced over at your best friend, and then you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

You lingered at the pool a little longer, enjoying the warm sun on your skin. Suddenly, Sofia's phone interrupted your peaceful moment. She quickly answered, speaking rapidly in both Spanish and French. After hanging up, she turned to you with an apologetic look. "Please don't be upset with me," she pleaded, and you raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Sofia sighed, explaining, "There's an issue at my dad's store that he insists I handle personally. I'm really sorry, Y/N."

You studied your best friend for a moment before responding, "No worries, Sof. I can handle some alone time."

Sofia observed your determined expression. "Are you sure? I promised I would clear my schedule for you."

You sat up and grasped Sofia's hand. "Hey, don't worry about it. I've been traveling solo through Europe for the past six months, so I think I can handle an afternoon alone."

Sofia chuckled, grateful for her best friend's easygoing nature. That was one of the reasons she loved you so much.

Thirty minutes later, Sofia arrived at her father's store. "Okay, what's the problem?" she asked her employee, Cassandra, who explained the situation. The problem turned out to be more time-consuming than Sofia had anticipated. After three exhausting hours, they finally resolved everything. Annoyed, Sofia walked to the counter and set down her phone, which she had used frequently throughout the afternoon. Suddenly, the bell above the door jingled, causing her eyes to widen.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, her gaze fixed on the individual who had just entered the store. With a wide grin, she approached none other than Charles Leclerc, accompanied by his brother Lorenzo. "I knew you would come back."

Charles looked at her, initially confused, before recognition dawned on him. "Wait, I saw you yesterday, didn't I?"

Lorenzo glanced between Sofia and Charles, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes, you did. At the harbor!" Sofia replied excitedly.

"So, we finally found her?" Lorenzo asked hesitantly, trying to make sense of the situation.

Sofia smiled at Lorenzo. "Yeah, it's not her," Charles clarified, causing Lorenzo's attention to snap back to his brother. "But she's the friend with the designer store."

Sofia maintained her smile, shrugging lightly. "That's me, and I'm thrilled you found me. But on the other hand... How?"

Charles chuckled. "Y/N mentioned that she was visiting a friend here who owns a designer store. So we went from store to store today, searching for a clue. And now we've found you."

"You searched all over for her?" Sofia asked, amazed. Charles nodded. "That's incredibly sweet."

A faint blush tinted Charles' cheeks. "So, can you tell me where she is?"

Sofia's smile persisted as she replied, "No."

Lorenzo's head shot up, confusion etched on his face. "No?"

"No... I mean, yes, but let me explain. She's at my place and, well... Okay, never mind. I have a proposition for you. Y/N and I will be at Jimmy'z tonight, so why don't you surprise her and join us there?" Sofia proposed, locking eyes with Charles before glancing at Lorenzo.

Charles exchanged a brief glance with his brother before turning back to Sofia. "We'll be there!"

Lorenzo looked at his younger brother, still perplexed. "We will?"

Charles met Lorenzo's gaze with a firm expression. "We will," he affirmed.

Sofia's grin widened, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Great! OMG, Y/N will be overjoyed when she sees you. She didn't want to believe me when I told her you would search for her and that you two had a special connection..." Sofia rambled, noticing Charles' amused expression.

"Sorry," Sofia finally said, realizing she had been babbling.

Charles chuckled. "It's okay. See you tonight." He took his brother's arm, and they exited Sofia's store.

A mischievous smile played on Sofia's lips as she watched them leave. Oh, Y/N was going to love this.

Upon returning home, Sofia found you emerging from the shower, clad in towels. As you applied moisturizer, Sofia entered the room with a smile on her face.

"Oh, you're back," you greeted your best friend.

"I am, and I come bearing gifts as an apology for taking so long," Sofia replied, placing a jaw-dropping black dress with golden sequins on your bed.

Curiosity piqued, you examined the beautiful garment. "Sof, no! I can't accept this, and you know it," you protested. You were well aware of Sofia's affluent background and her tendency to shower you  with gifts, but you always declined.

"Come on! It's from my store, and I insist, Y/N. I want you to have it," Sofia insisted, revealing a pair of matching shoes from behind her back.

Your fingertips trembled with anticipation as your gaze shifted from the mesmerizing dress to Sofia and back again. With a gentle, hesitant touch, your fingers delicately brushed against the luxurious fabric. It felt soft and smooth beneath her touch, its fine craftsmanship evident in every thread. The sensation sent a shiver of excitement through you, making you appreciate the dress even more. "No, Sof... I wouldn't even know when to wear it..."

"Oh, I do! How about tonight, at Jimmy'z?" Sofia proposed.

"Jimmy'z?" you questioned. "Oh, no, Sof! You know I despise those types of clubs..."

Sofia draped her arm around you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, that's a shame, but there's no way you're getting out of this one, my dear. I've already made all the arrangements."

With that, Sofia pranced out of your room, leaving her best friend in stunned silence. However, a smile crept onto your lips as you shook your head in amusement. Once again, you gazed at the dress. It truly was a stunning piece, and in that moment, you felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of wearing it tonight.

>> Part 2

[mccall-muffin]

The Lady and the Major - Part 1/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Major Bucky Egan is on leave in London, and what else is there to do than to drink, sing, have a good time, and... of course, ladies. But then he meets Liz, a Lady of the Court, and Bucky is immediately entangled in her net.

Warnings: Language, teasing, use of alcohol - soldiers being soldiers

A/N: Okay, wow... I thought today: "Uh, I have an idea for a OneShot with Bucky Egan," and now I'm sitting here with a three-part story. Jeeeeeez... Uh, but what you gonna do. (I've only seen the first two Episodes of MotA as of now, but... I just love Callum)

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @mads-weasley, @brassknucklespeirs, @softguarnere

(Sorry mates, you just have to be tagged ;))

The Ritz, London, 1943

The opulent bar of the Ritz in London, brimming with the raucous laughter and chatter of soldiers on leave. The air is thick with smoke, jazz music fills the background, and the atmosphere is charged with the night's excitement.

Major John "Bucky" Egan, surrounded by a rowdy group of fellow American soldiers, is the life of the party. His laughter is loudest, his stories the most captivating, and his gaze roams freely, appreciative of the scenery—particularly the women who add a touch of glamour to the smoky room.

Bucky, with a glass of whiskey in hand, leans back, surveying the room with a smug grin. "Gentlemen," he boasts, "London's no match for a Yank with charm. Watch and learn."

His eyes, however, catch a sight that stops him mid-sentence—a vision of elegance seated across the bar. Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, unbeknownst to him, sits alone, her posture the epitome of grace, a long, slender cigarette holder elegantly poised in her hand. The soft glow of the bar lights catches her blonde hair and the sparkle in her blue eyes, making her seem almost ethereal.

Bucky's usual confidence wavers for a moment, his friends noticing the sudden change. "Well, I'll be damned... Who's that?" Bucky mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

One of the British soldiers, a man who has seen his fair share of high society, leans over, a knowing look in his eyes. "That, Yank, is Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. The Duke of Wellington's daughter. I'd tread carefully if I were you. She's out of your league."

Bucky's grin returns, cockier than before. "Out of my league? Buddy, there's no league I can't play in. Watch me."

With a swagger in his step, Bucky makes his way over to Elizabeth, his comrades watching eagerly, some with admiration, others with skepticism, and some with knowing faces.

"Evening, miss. Can I say you light up this room brighter than the London Blitz," he says cockily, letting his charm play.

Elizabeth doesn't even glance up from her drink at first, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. When she finally turns her gaze towards him, it's with an air of amusement. "And can I say that's the most American pickup line I've ever heard?"

Bucky, undeterred, flashes a grin. "Major John Egan, at your service. But for you... You can call me Bucky. And you are?"

Elizabeth finally offers him a small, knowing smile. "Elizabeth Cavendish. And I'm quite aware of who you are, Major Egan. Your reputation precedes you."

Bucky, leaning against the bar closer to Liz, his confidence seemingly unshaken. "Is that so? And what have you heard?"

Liz, taking another slow drag from her cigarette, eyes Bucky with a mixture of interest and challenge. "Oh, just that you're quite the charmer. A real ladies' man. Or so you believe."

The air between them crackles with a mix of tension and intrigue. Bucky, for once, finds himself having to work to maintain his usual smug demeanor. "And what about you, Lady Elizabeth? Do you enjoy games?"

Liz's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, Major, I don't just enjoy them. I excel at them. Care to play?"

The challenge hangs in the air, a silent dare that Bucky, despite the warnings and his better judgment, finds himself unable to resist. "You're on. Let the games begin."

As Bucky signals the bartender for another round of drinks, his fellow soldiers exchange glances, some shaking their heads, others betting amongst themselves on the outcome. What none of them realize is that in the game of seduction and wit, Liz is a master strategist, and Bucky might have just met his match.

Bucky leans closer, his confidence unwavering. "So, Liz, you don't mind me calling you Liz, right?" he starts, the smug smile never leaving his face, "I've flown some of the most dangerous missions over Germany, you know. But I must say, navigating this conversation with you feels like my most thrilling challenge yet."

Liz lets out a soft, amused laugh. "Major Egan, I've met many men who believe their war stories could sweep a girl off her feet. And maybe it actually does some. But it's going to take more than tales of aerial feats to impress me," she replies, her voice laced with a teasing sarcasm that only someone of her breeding and wit could perfect.

The night progresses, and with each drink, Bucky becomes more audacious, his hand finding its way to the small of Liz's back, a bold move that, in any other circumstance, would have guaranteed success. Liz, however, is not any woman he's encountered before. She plays along, leaning in as if captivated by his charm, her lips tantalizingly close to his, only to pull away at the last moment, leaving him wanting more.

Their conversation ebbs and flows, with Bucky regaling her with his exploits, each tale more daring than the last. Yet, Liz remains unimpressed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement rather than awe. It's a dance they're both familiar with, but in this instance, Liz leads, her every move calculated to keep him on his toes.

As the night wears on, Liz finishes her drink, placing the glass delicately on the bar. She rises from her stool, the movement graceful and deliberate. "Well, Major, it has been... interesting," she says, her tone implying a myriad of things left unsaid.

Bucky, taken aback by her sudden desire to leave, scrambles to his feet. "Wait, Liz, why don't you stay for another drink? The night is still young, and I feel we've barely scratched the surface."

Liz turns to him, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I'm afraid I have other engagements to attend to, Major. But I must thank you for the entertainment," she teases, her gaze piercing through him with a challenge that silently says she's not one to be easily conquered.

As she walks away, Bucky watches, a mix of frustration and fascination written across his face. For the first time, he's encountered a woman who not only matches his wit but exceeds it, leaving him in uncharted territory. Liz, with her aristocratic poise and undeniable charm, has turned the tables on him, making it clear that if he wishes to pursue her, he's in for a game unlike any he's played before.

Returning to his comrades, Bucky's expression is a mix of irritation and resolve, a stark contrast to the confident swagger he had before approaching Liz. The British soldiers, having observed the entire exchange, can't help but wear smirks of "told you so" on their faces.

"Well, Major, looks like the ice queen has claimed another victim," one of the Brits comments, clapping Bucky on the shoulder with a laugh that's both sympathetic and mocking.

Bucky, undeterred, shoots back, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Another British soldier chimes in, swirling his drink, "Mate, many have tried to climb that mountain. From viscounts to earls, not a single one has reached the summit. Lady Cavendish is... well, she's a fortress."

"Yeah, heard she loves to make sport of men, seeing who can try and fail the most spectacularly," adds a third, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and warning.

One of Bucky's American friends, attempting to find a solution, suggests, "Did you pull the pilot card? Chicks love pilots." The suggestion hangs in the air until another British soldier, who had been quietly listening, interjects, "Her brother's Captain Edward Cavendish, Royal Air Force war hero. Your pilot card might as well be a library card."

The revelation doesn't dampen Bucky's spirits; if anything, it fuels his determination. His jaw sets firmly, the challenge now more personal than ever. "So, she's used to high-flyers, huh? Well, she hasn't met anyone like me. I'm not just any pilot; I'm Major Bucky Egan. And I don't give up that easily."

The group looks at him, a mix of skepticism and intrigue in their eyes. They know Bucky for his tenacity, his charm, and his unwillingness to back down from a challenge. But Lady Elizabeth Cavendish is not just any challenge—she's a high-stakes game that many have lost.

As the night winds down and the group disperses, Bucky's mind races with plans. He knows winning over someone like Lady Cavendish won't be easy, but he's always loved a challenge. The thought of her, with her piercing blue eyes and that untouchable aura, only makes him more determined. He's ready to prove that he's not like the others, that he's someone who stands out, even in a crowd of heroes.

The stage is set for a captivating game of wit, charm, and strategy. Bucky's resolve and Liz's cunning promise a tale of intrigue, where each move could either draw them closer or push them further apart.

In the soft morning light filtering through the hotel's dining room windows, Bucky and his fellow soldiers are halfway through their breakfast, the air filled with the light-hearted banter typical of men who've faced much together. The sudden approach of a concierge, bearing the unmistakable posture of formal importance, silences the table. With a discreet cough to announce his presence, the concierge presents a silver platter to Bucky.

Bucky, eyebrows raised in surprise, picks up the envelope resting on the platter. The envelope itself is a work of art, the calligraphy on the front flawlessly executed, hinting at the significance of its contents. His name, "Major John Egan, US Air Force," is inscribed with elegant flourishes that speak of a bygone era of meticulous attention to detail.

As he carefully opens the envelope, the anticipation among his comrades is palpable. They watch as Bucky's initial confusion shifts to an understanding smile, a silent acknowledgment of the ongoing saga that had captivated them since last night. He pulls out the invitation, and it reads:

Major John Egan,

It is with great pleasure that Arthur Cavendish, Duke of Wellington, and Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Wellington, extend to you an invitation to a gala being held at our family estate, Wellington House, on the evening of this day.

This event will assemble distinguished individuals from various sectors of British and Allied societies in a celebration of unity and resilience in these challenging times.

Date: This evening at 7 o'clock post meridiem

Dress Code: Formal (Black Tie)

Location: Wellington House, Kent

We anticipate the honor of your presence and look forward to an evening of meaningful exchanges and spirited fellowship.

Kindly present this invitation at the entrance.

Sincerely, The Duke of Wellington

Bucky's grin now spread wide across his face, confirms the unspoken thoughts of his table. "Looks like I've got plans this evening," he announces, his voice a mix of amusement and intrigue.

The soldiers around him, well aware of the story behind the invitation, erupt into a mix of cheers and playful jeers. Bucky's encounter with Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, a tale that had quickly become legendary among them, was evidently far from over. This invitation was not just a call to a social event; it was the next chapter in a story that promised to be as unpredictable as it was entertaining.

As the concierge departs, Bucky's mind races with possibilities. The gala at Wellington House was not just an opportunity to step into the world of British aristocracy; it was a chance to see Liz again, to engage in their game of wits and charm. With a sense of adventure stirring in his heart, he knew one thing for sure: the evening promised to be unforgettable.

House Wellington, Kent, 1943

As Bucky steps into the grandeur of the Wellington estate, the opulence of the gala immediately envelops him. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes mingling with the faint aroma of quality tobacco. The chatter of the high society fills the room, a mixture of refined British accents and the occasional foreign dialect. Bucky, in his crisply pressed formal uniform, stands out—not just for his attire but also for the aura of confidence he carries with him, an unmistakable mark of a man not easily intimidated.

He navigates through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, his eyes scanning the room until they find what they've been searching for: Liz. She's a vision in her gown, embodying the grace and elegance of her status, yet with a glimmer in her eye that hints at her spirited nature. As he approaches, he can't help but admire the way she holds herself, the center of attention yet seemingly uninterested in the adoration she commands.

"Seems like I can't go anywhere without you showing up to steal the spotlight," Bucky teases, offering her a playful smirk as he closes the distance between them.

Liz turns to face him fully, her expression one of amused defiance. "Oh, Major Egan, I was under the impression that an officer of your caliber would know how to read a simple dress code," she retorts, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she gives him a once-over. "But I suppose we can't all have the luxury of choice in our evening attire, can we?"

Bucky chuckles, unphased by her jab. "Well, Lady Cavendish, it seems I'm at a disadvantage here. While you dazzle the room in that stunning dress, I'm stuck in this old thing," he says, gesturing to his uniform with a mock sigh. "But let's be honest, we both know I could show up in a burlap sack, and you'd still find it hard to keep your eyes off me."

The air between them crackles with the tension of their banter, a dance they've both come to enjoy. Liz takes a slow drag from her cigarette, held elegantly in a long holder. "Confident, aren't we? Just don't let that confidence get you into trouble, Major. This isn't the front line, and the battles here are fought differently," she says, blowing out a stream of smoke, her gaze locked with his.

"Then consider me armed and dangerous," Bucky replies with a grin, his eyes never leaving hers. "But I'll admit, this is one battlefield I'm looking forward to navigating, especially if it means crossing swords with you, Lady Cavendish."

Their exchange, filled with the playful yet pointed jabs of two individuals equally matched in intellect and charm, sets the tone for the evening. Around them, the gala continues in its whirl of music, laughter, and conversation, but for Bucky and Liz, the rest of the world fades into the background. They are each other's focal point, engaged in a game where the stakes are undefined but unmistakably high, each moment building on the tension and attraction that simmers just below the surface.

As Bucky and Liz continue their verbal dance, the arrival of a British Captain momentarily shifts the atmosphere. The Captain's demeanor is one of polite curiosity mixed with the protective scrutiny of a brother. When he inquires about Bucky, there's a brief tension, a moment where the social games of the evening meet the reality of wartime alliances and personal connections.

Bucky, with the straightforwardness that military life has ingrained in him, extends a hand. "Major John Egan, US Air Force," he introduces himself with a respectful nod, recognizing the familial resemblance in the Captain's features.

Edward's expression warms slightly at the mention of Bucky's service. "Ah, a fellow pilot then. And where might you be stationed, Major Egan?" he asks, a hint of camaraderie entering his voice upon learning of their shared skies.

"With the 100th Bomber Group," Bucky responds, his answer earning a nod of respect from Edward. The reputation of Bucky's outfit precedes him, known even among the British ranks for their bravery and contributions to the war effort.

The conversation takes a turn when Edward's attention shifts towards his sister, curiosity piqued. "And how did you two come to meet?" he inquires, his gaze bouncing between Liz and Bucky, searching for a glimpse into his sister's enigmatic social life.

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, perhaps a little too eagerly, ready to dive into the tale of their first encounter. However, Liz, ever the master of her own narrative, interjects with a grace that belies the quick thinking behind her words. "We met at a charity event just last week," she states, her voice carrying a tone of casual innocence. "Major Egan was kind enough to share some fascinating insights into his experiences in the war so far. It's not every day we have the honor of hearing such stories firsthand."

Edward's expression softens, a mix of brotherly concern and pride evident in his gaze as he looks at Liz. It's clear he's unaware of the full extent of his sister's adventurous spirit and her propensity for finding herself in the company of intriguing characters. "Well, I'm glad to hear our allies are not just brave but also charitable. It's important, especially in times like these, to remember what we're fighting for," he comments, directing a respectful nod towards Bucky.

The moment passes, and Edward excuses himself to greet other guests, leaving Bucky and Liz alone once again. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Liz, impressed by her quick thinking and ability to weave a story that protects her reputation while not entirely dismissing their actual encounter. "A charity event, huh? You're quite the storyteller, Lady Cavendish," he teases, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

Liz, taking a delicate sip of her champagne, meets his gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "One must always be prepared to tell the story that needs to be heard, Major Egan. Besides, I couldn't possibly let you ruin all my fun with the truth, now could I?" she replies, her tone playful yet laced with the underlying thrill of their shared secret.

Their exchange, now even more charged with the thrill of their clandestine understanding, continues to weave a complex tapestry of attraction and intrigue, each moment adding to the layers of their unfolding story.

Next Part

[ithinkabouttzu]

BoB Reaction to you having a bad anxiety day

Requested by the lovely @liebgotts-lovergirl 💗💗

Genre: romance, sad fluff

Warnings: Anxiety, anxiousness

Description: The BoB boys reaction to their s/o (you) having a bad anxiety day

Dick Winters

he could just tell you were having a bad day. He would be SO good at listening to you and he would never judge you for a second. He always tries his best to give you good advice, and is going to be there to support you 10000% he just wants to see you smile!

Lewis Nixon

He would try his best to understand what you’re going through and would try to find the root of your anxiety. I think you guys would have a long deep conversation about it and he’s definitely willing to do ANYTHING to eliminate your anxiety or at least minimize it in anyway he can

Carwood Lipton

MASTER listener and comforter. He is such a good person to talk to about this stuff. He would be there just rubbing your back and holding you gently while you tell him what’s bothering you. It hurts him to see you go through any kind of pain and he is by your side ALWAYS, plus he always gives the best forehead kisses when you’re sad.

Joe Toye

Lowkey becomes the biggest softy when he sees you sad or anything like that. He would shoo anyone away if you just want to be alone with him to talk, if you don’t wanna talk then he’ll just sit there and hold you, with bunches of kisses , and he’ll make sure reassure you how much he loves you and how amazing you are.

Joe Liebgott

It breaks his heart. He can just tell when you’re having a bad day coping and he can see when you have an anxiety attack. He just wants to take all that away from you because he loves you so much. He will be there to hold you, sit and talk with you, WHATEVER you want to do, he’s down for it, anything to make his bae feel better - he’ll do it.

Bill Guarnere

Mans is READY to beat WHOEVER might’ve caused your anxiety to get bad. Definitely offers to be your personal therapist LOL, but if you just call him randomly in the middle of the night he’ll listen to you so attentively, he’ll always be there to support you, physically and mentally. But again he’ll kill someone if they’re the cause of your anxiety.

George Luz

George will probably try and make a joke to get your mind off of it at first. But he’ll sit there and listen to you so seriously and you can just see that he cares, I think he would just rub your hand while you talk to him and when your done he would give you the most loving hug ever. He’d probably suggest you guys go watch a movie or something to get your mind off of it afterwards.

Bull Randleman

he is the biggest sweetheart when you’re anxiety gets bad, he’s so comforting and he’s guaranteed to give you the best cuddles and advice of your LIFE. He’ll hold you and let you get all your feelings out before telling you how much he loves and cares about you. He’s just so kind and caring to you that afterwards you feel so much better

Eugene Roe

Master listener and comforter #2. If you start crying he’ll prob get a little teary eyed, because anxiety sucks and you don’t deserve it. He’ll just hug you, strong and loving while stroking your hair. Gene would tell you how sorry he is that you’re feeling down and makes sure to give you infinite kisses. Also remind you that whatever you’re going through, you’ll get through it.

Floyd Talbert

Tries his hardest to be there for you, but physically he’ll be there 100%. Kissing you, holding you, anything. Emotionally it might be a little bit harder for him but he’ll make sure you know that he’s got your back anytime ever. He’ll just sit there quietly and let you spit all of your feelings out while he rubs your shoulder

Skip Muck

I think he would be such a good person to talk to about this kinda stuff. If he saw you sad he would try to cheer you up in anyway possible, or if he saw you having a panic attack he would take you somewhere private where you could calm down. I think y’all would end up having a deep conversation about just anxiety in general and he’ll be sure to let you know that you can talk to him anytime about that stuff!

Don Malarkey

He would be so heartbroken to see you in pain or sad. This man is a total sweetheart and would do anything to make you feel better. He would just rock you side to side in a long hug and repeat the sweetest loving affirmations to you, he would sit and listen to you completely and remind you how important you are to him and the other guys.

Babe Heffron

He would just sit there with the saddest look on his face when you tell him what’s going on. He just wants to tell you it’ll be okay and everything will get better, but I think the bear hug he gives you says all that and a million other things in one. And when y’all are done with the hug, He’d just grab your face and make you look into his eye, before kissing you passionate and lovingly.

Frank Perconte

I think at first he’d be angry for you, because you don’t deserve that at ALL and if anyone made your anxiety worse he will literally come for them. But in the moment he’ll settle down and just let you have the floor to say whatever you want in that moment. He’d have open arms for you and if you need him, he’ll always be there for you!

Shifty Powers

Poor boy literally his heart just shatters when he sees the heartbroken expression on your face. He’s here for you to confide in and you can always find comfort in him, he’d make sure to listen to you and give you the best cuddles on the planet. He’ll also reminds you how much he cares about you and how special you are to him.

****************************************************

A/n : hiii everyone!! this is my first reaction i’ve done for BoB so i hope everyone enjoys it!!! if you have any requests or any others i should add just let me know!!!! <33

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

I can't quite believe it but I've surpassed 700 followers. I'm actually in shock. I can't believe there are over 700 of you beautiful people out there following my page. I love this community with my whole being, and I'm eternally grateful for every single one of you. ❤️

I've met some of the most wonderful people I know in this community. When I started this page, I was in a really lonely, unhappy place in my life. Band of brothers brought me happiness in a time where little else could, and I started writing on here as a way to test out my passion for writing and see if I was any good😅 I never could have imagined that it would lead me to a fandom where I would feel so welcomed, so happy and so at home.

There are far too many people that I've spoken to on here for me to mention them all, but there are a few that I've really connected with and would hope to be connected with for many years to come. @wecomrades @tvserie-s-world @ask-you-what-sir @wexhappyxfew @honey-im-hotdog @swiftwordsforwhattheyare @liebgotts-lovergirl you are the friends the universe sent to me when I needed you most and I'll always be eternally grateful for the honour of having you in my life. 💜

It's been a wild few years on here, and I'm looking forward for what's the come 💫

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // to be in it with you.

i’ll find a million ways to say it before i say that i’m in—

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs ,@monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe

SUMMARY: Reaching the Eagles’ Nest makes the day special in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: None!

Picturesque mountains, sun warming her skin, her eyes crinkle at the corners on a squint as she peers at it for a moment. She didn’t think she’d have much time for sightseeing in a war, but here she is — a working draft of a letter balanced precariously on her thigh as she writes out a thank you for the well wishes from her mother, men and women alike all idling on this road etched into the mountainside. Beside her, Jane is also leaned up against the jeep, gray eyes shut to soak in the rays warming them like stones on a riverbed.

“Your French still any good?” she asks, out of the blue cracking one eye open. That was one thing Daisy began to notice about Jane. When she was feeling chatty, she could never anticipate what the girl was going to say or ask. Daisy raises an eyebrow, looking at her sidelong and gives her a shrug.

“It’s alright, I guess. Why d’you ask?”

“Cause I can’t remember a lick of shit since Belgium but I wanna tell the French to haul ass and get rid of the roadblock.” At that, Daisy snorts at the mild irritation edging in Jane’s voice as she says it, folding up her paper and putting it in her pocket.

“What, don’t wanna beat the French to the nest?”

“I don’t give a damn who wins, I just want to get up there already.” Distantly, a sound of an explosion echoes down the road they’re all sat upon, and Daisy snorts. Last Daisy checked, they were getting quite…  creative with how they intended to blow the roadblock sky high. Namely, combining explosives like a high-risk middle school science fair. Grenades, dynamite, bazookas, all which translated in Daisy’s mind as some idiot having too much fun and losing a couple fingers if they weren’t careful enough.

She’s hoping that the joy found in blowing things up might’ve died down a little bit with the war apparently coming so close to an end — but part of her knows that’s just her own foolish optimism.

But it is, admittedly, nice to know she still has some of it left after all this.

“Someone’s antsy,” Daisy can’t help but snicker, and Jane rolls her eyes.

“Ever the astute observations from my fearless leader.” She watches Jane shake out a cigarette and fish through her pocket for the lighter, lights it, and brings it to her own lips before letting smoke escape. Then she offers it to Daisy.

“Yeah well, that’s what they hired me for.”

“Your wise remarks?” Jane asks as Daisy takes it from her, bringing it to her own lips. They share a look as an engine roars and a jeep whizzes by them further up the road.

“My astute observations,” Daisy concurs, “Also, I think you might’ve gotten your wish after all, Gray.”

The town was dead quiet before they came in. An eerily empty place save for the rumble of engines, emblazoned in the red banners that make her entirely angry now. The moment their feet hit the ground, anything that gleams is fair game — for combat nurse and soldier alike, it seems.

Which is to say: Daisy’s bag is heavy with things that weren’t even hers, nor were they things that she necessarily picked up herself. She didn’t expect Rita to have such sticky fingers, but when the argument was that they’d need nice silverware for the apartment they’ve yet to get, she couldn’t exactly argue with that sound logic. And when Easy Company gets fired up to head further up the mountain — she allows herself a moment of childishness, sticking out her tongue to her friend who would be staying behind in town for the moment with the rest of Fox.

Okay, so maybe she got her pick of a couple candleholders in town, and maybe she was just a little bit eager to see if the stone mountain retreat had anything nicer than that. Which it should, because the damn thing had a gold plated elevator.

She’s greeted with lush couches and carpets, champagne in buckets of water that likely was ice, at one point, and the sound of popping bottles as everybody in the place helps themselves to the stash. Daisy wanders, curious as the men chip pieces off that big stone fireplace. She’s on one of the many balconies the retreat holds when Liebgott finds her first. He smacks one of those fireplace chunks unceremoniously into her hand. Then, he offers her the glass-green champagne bottle he’s carrying with him.

“It’s a special day, after all, don’t say I didn’t get you nothin’,” he hums with a knowing glint in his eye. She takes the bottle by the neck, glances up at him with slightly wider eyes and parted lips.

“You remembered?”

“What kinda dumb question is that?” He asks with a bit of a scoff. “‘Course I did, kid, now hurry up before I take the damn bottle back.” Daisy rolls her eyes and takes a swig, champagne bubbles popping on her tongue and going down smooth. It tastes expensive. She grins as she licks the excess from her lips and gives him the bottle back, and then he takes a swig from it himself before ruffling her hair. “Atta girl. Make any wishes?”

“I’d need candles for that.” He grins again and gives her a shrug.

“Sure we could work somethin’ out. Not like ol’ Adolf’s gonna need them. Y’know this place has a goddamn kitchen? Fully stocked.” He says, a sharp bite to the words. Daisy snorts, partially in disbelief.

“What, you're gonna make me a cake or something? I don’t know if I trust you around a stove while you’re drinking.” Joe laughs, a full sound accompanied by another ruffle of her hair. “Tell you what, you find me candles and I’ll make all the wishes in the world.” That seems to satisfy him, the grin not faltering as he looks up and past her. There’s a clearing of the throat, and Daisy turns around.

Ron stands in the doorway, straight-faced and looking between them, before his gaze focuses on Liebgott.

“I need to speak to Lieutenant Clarke, Liebgott,” he informs in that non-negotiable tone of his. As if they had important business to attend to among the pretty scenery and loungers arranged to overlook the woods below. Joe isn’t an idiot, so he nods, resigned.

“Yes, sir,” he responds with a salute, he walks back inside, disappearing into the building and Daisy watches as that stern look on Ron’s face practically melts away.

He’d been the first one up, with Malarkey and Alton. So it didn’t take a genius to know that wherever he’d stored his gear in this place — it would likely clink and clatter until it made its way to Vest at the post office to get all boxed up. He reaches up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, shorter strands that had fallen from its braid. Something about the mundaneness of the gesture makes her smile.

“One hell of a day,” Ron observes, giving her a knowing look.

“That’s a way to put it, yeah,” Daisy points out with a curious smile. He tilts her chin up with his knuckle until she’s looking at him completely.

“Make any wishes?”

“Didn’t you hear while you were creeping in the shadows? You can’t make a wish without candles.” She points out, and Ron rolls his eyes as he leans down to kiss her, her chin between his thumb and pointer. His lips taste like whiskey, and she can’t help but think back to the last time he drank — all weepy in her lap and dramatic in the morning. The grin that makes it onto her lips is enough to break their kiss. He gives her a half-hearted narrow-eyed look.

“I don’t creep.”

“Lurking then, it’s not a bad thing,” Daisy amends, and she can tell Ron is biting back what has to be a smile as he fishes around in his pocket.

“Fine. Lurking. Doesn’t matter, I got you something.”

“If it’s forks, I’m afraid Rita might have you beat there. I think the drawers might burst if we get any more.” Ron shakes his head immediately with a soft chuckle.

“Not forks, but good to know.”

What he produces from his pocket is much more delicate than the silverware or the candle holders or the hand mirrors.

It’s a sapphire pendant on a thin, silver chain. Delicate and pretty in a way that makes Daisy’s lips part on a gasp. She’d passed quite a bit of jewelry, but none of it were things she’d ever wear so she left it behind for someone else to take. It was all too chunky, too demanding of attention, too weighty in her hands. This was the opposite. Silver curls around that deep blue sapphire, holding it in place, but it was still the centerpiece in spite of the embellishments.

“Happy birthday, Dais,” he says simply. Daisy reaches up, fingers grazing the cold metal in awe. She then looks up at him, a million questions and statements all posed on her tongue.

“Can you put it on me?” is what she decides on, and to that he nods, and she turns around.

Fingers graze the back of her neck as his fingers work to fasten it. She doesn’t care about how he got it, where it came from — just that he’d picked it up not to mail home, but to give to her. And she shouldn’t expect anything less from him, but everything he does still manages to fill her with something that can only be described as pure wonder.

Ron is wonderful. 

It’s not an epiphany of any sort, if anything, she feels like it’s the most obvious statement she could make. Of course he’s wonderful. Because Ron remembers things about people and makes a point to apply it. Ron knows everything about her, he listens to her. He could’ve given her any of the countless too-chunky rings and necklaces left abandoned in town or in this building. But he doesn’t. He finds the thing he knows she’ll wear and gives that to her instead.

So maybe, she’s just a little bit awestruck at how he could love a person like her in such a way. With such careful precision.

She turns around, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him. His hands find her waist immediately, holding, squeezing as he returns her kiss with ease, remnants of champagne and whiskey mixing on their lips for a moment before they pull away — barely so, because her forehead presses against his and she makes a point to bump their noses.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Daisy breathes out without thinking. But she doesn’t pull away upon realizing what she’s said. She’d rather stare, and she’s glad she doesn’t look away, because he smiles. The rare one, where his eyes crinkle at the corners. Beautiful, breathtaking, rare but still Ron.

“Yeah? You love me?” Ron asks, his voice edging on a tease. It’s like watching years come off him in the span of seconds. He looks so boyish. She nods, cheeks flushing a bit at his tone, but his arms only wrap around her tighter.

“I do.”

He leans forward to kiss her again, briefer than before, but still firm against her.

“Then I love you too,” he mutters, then another kiss. “And when we go home,” kiss, “You know I’m marrying the hell outta you, right?”

Her heart skips a beat.

“Been thinking about that one for a while?” She asks, and Ron squeezes her hips, hazel eyes moving across her features as he examines her face.

“Figured to wait, that you’d want a ring that’s shiny and new and all yours.” And then he waits, leaving it open for her to contradict him — for her to object in any way she sees fit, but she doesn’t.

“You might have a point there.” She watches the way his smile returns.

“So is that a yes?”

Daisy reaches up to take his face in her hands, coarse stubble beneath her palms as she glides her thumbs over his cheekbones. Her turn to begin a sentence with a kiss.

“Ask me again in front of your mother with a ring that’s all mine, and then  you’ll get an answer. Promise.”

Marriage. The thought had always been there — she’d wanted to get married, at some point, to somebody. As a teenager the idea scared her a bit — the thought that she could pick the wrong person clashing with the fantasy in her head of white wedding gowns and her father walking her down the aisle. It only worsened when she found out about the cheating. If she dared think about anything that wasn’t work, or the war, or James, it would tread into territory of her future spouse wrapped up in a secretary or something. Loving someone that wasn’t her.

Ron isn’t just somebody. And the thought of marrying him doesn’t scare her at all. It’s like a piece snapping into place, something sound and correct that she can envision clearly, even if the details are hazy.

One day in a not-so-distant future, he’s going to ask her to marry him. And she’s a hundred percent certain that she’s going to say yes.

The door opens and with that, the whooping and laughter from Harry and Nixon bounce off the walls, bottles of what she can assume is whiskey on ice in a bucket tucked into his arm. She catches Ginny behind the two of them with a small smile on her face, shoulders shaking in laughter.

“There he is! We aren’t interrupting something, are we?” Lew asks, more hypothetical than anything as Ron lets his hands fall to turn around. Ginny, on the other hand, eyes the new piece on Daisy’s neck and gives her a knowing look.

Lew doesn’t wait for an answer, he throws himself on the lounger with a catlike grin, and Harry reaches for one of the bottles.

Ron gives her a look as Harry pops off the cap, and all Daisy does is laugh.

[lovememadly92]

TAG GAME

GET TO KNOW ME :) or don't lmao

Thank you for the tag @malarkgirlypop!! Let's do this!!!

NAME:

Laura or you can call me Tani. Whichever one works for you!

PRONOUNS:

She / Her

STAR SIGN:

I am a Scorpio through and through! I enjoy it because my birthday is in the fall!

# OF SIBLINGS AND FUN FACTS ABOUT THEM (IF YOU HAVE ANY):

I have one younger sibling. And a fun fact about him is that he is really smart and knows his shit. Especially when it comes to religion and mythology. He is good at video games, and he knows MMA.

# OF PETS & THEIR NAMES:

I have four beautiful, doggies. Tanner, Lana, Penny and Kevin.

FANDOMS:

Right now definitely Band of Brothers. So far I am loving it!!!!!

FAVOURITE COLOUR:

I love pink!

FAVOURITE SONG:

Corazon Delator by Soda Stereo (definitely recommend for anyone to listen to it. The artist based it off of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Tell Tale Heart")

FAVOURITE AUTHOR (OF ANYTHING READABLE - BOOKS, FANFICS, ZINES, WEBTOONS, WHATEVER!):

I don't really have a specific favorite author in books or Fandom. I read just about anything, no preferences.

FAVOURITE FIC TYPE:

Definitely enemies to lovers because of all that pent up tension and the fact that they care for each other while they "hate" each other is just amazing.

FAVOURITE HOLIDAY:

Anything related to fall and winter, I love it!

DO YOU HAVE A PARTNER (ROMANTIC, QPR, ANYTHING!)?:

Yes I have a romantic partner. Love him to pieces!!!

HOBBIES:

I love to read, write, listen to music, eat of course, nap and watch Band of Brothers when I can.

FUN FACTS ABOUT ME:

I have seen major artists in concerts such as Stevie Wonder, The Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney(along with Ringo Starr playing the drums), Lady Gaga.

I used to play the clarinet back when I was younger.

I have a good photographic memory.

I only have two tattoos(and I want more).

Tags: @jlalafics @epsmississippigirl @jump-wings @1waveshortofashipwreck @emilee1421 @dcyllom @liebgotts-lovergirl @l13bg0tt @artvmisia and any one else who would love to do it!

[daremna]

capricorn sun moon mercury • libra rising mars • aquarius venus • 1h scorpio lilith

for @liebgotts-lovergirl (happy birthday!)

[eightysix-baby]

Hey everyone last year I did a birthday celebration and had a lot of fun doing requests so I thought I'd bring it back this year 💖

my birthday is at the end of the month I wanted to do some kind of celebration with my followers, however anyone can participate if they’d like! This will probably be open until my birthday (the 28th) depending on how many requests I get .

Send me a 💖 + few things about yourself and I’ll make you a moodboard or I’ll make one based on your blog 

Send me a 💙+ a character and a concept or color and I’ll make a moodboard 

Send me a 💜+ tell me a little about yourself and I’ll ship you with a character ,please specify which fandom ( last time I was only doing them for stranger things but I may be open to doing them for other fandoms , if your wondering what fandoms I post about you can check my blog or just ask 💕) 

Send me a 💚+ a person/character and a color and I’ll make you some icons 

Send me a 🎵and I’ll tell you what song I associate with your blog 

Send me a 🌺 and I'll make an outfit inspired by your blog ( idea inspired by @dearscone )

send me a 🌻 + a movie/show/book etc and I'll cast my mutuals in it / or send me some ,your mutuals as "_" asks

Send me anything you’d like!

give me some FanFic recommendations

ask me anything you'd like , talk to me about movie/music/books or give me some recommendations ,talk to me about your pets (or better send pictures ) tell me about some of your favorite things , I really just want to get to know some of you better 💕

Aside from ships I’ll take request of just about any fandom I post about . Theres a lot of them but just a few of them are : stranger things,hbo war, 80s movies,scream/horror movies, marvel,IT, the boys, cobra kai,the umbrella academy , star wars,star trek and lots of others! Like I said if you’re curious just check out my blog or feel free to ask . 💜

tagging some people :) @punkgeekcryptid @libramooon @emmythespacecowgirl @tvserie-s-world @kaaaaaaarf @mccall-muffin @liebgotts-lovergirl @santacarlahorrorshow @pleasedontlookatmeokay @honey-im-hotdog

[mads-weasley]

decorate my tree!!🎄🎁

thanks for the tag, @ronsparky & @ronald-speirs!!

I'd love it if y'all would help decorate my tree here!!🎄☃️

tag list: @footprintsinthesxnd @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @coco-bean-1218 @iceman-kazansky @yelena-bellova @blvestxr @georgieluz @xxluckystrike @sweetxvanixlla @mutantmanifesto @bucky32557038ww2 @whollyjoly @hxad-ovxr-hxart @mccall-muffin @liebgotts-lovergirl @ep6bastogne @flowers-and-fichte @latibvles @brassknucklespeirs @softguarnere and anyone else who wants to decorate my tree!!

[softguarnere]

Off the top of my head, you my lovely bestie, currently own Shifty Powers™, Joseph Liebgott™ & Bill Guarnere™ (who you singlehandedly made me appreciate for the first time 😆) 💖

asdfghjkl omg Aly you are the sweetest and the fact that you like how I write Liebgott means the world to me 🫶🏼 He is def your man, I just try to do him justice 😉

For this ask game!

[eugenescissors]

Nine people you'd like to know better.

Thank you for tagging me @kafka-ohdear really appreciate it. :)

Last song: Me Gustas Tu by Manu Chao

Last show/movie:

-> Chernobyl ( HBO Series ) ( yesterday night)

-> 9/11: Life under attack ( Afternoon )

-> 9/11 One day in America ( Afternoon )

Currently watching:

The pacific ( HBO Miniseries ) needs more love ❤ and Band Of Brothers ( HBO Miniseries ) The BEST WARII and accurate miniseries made. 👏

Currently reading:

-> Stranded by Bracken Macleod

-> The Institute by Stephen King

-> Duma Key by Stephen King

Current Obsession:

-> WORLD WAR 2 history ( All sides and what role they played, what they did during war. )

-> WRITING I really want to write Band of Brothers x reader stories but aye I'm a little sacred of being judged but I learned this community is so supportive and Im trying to learn how to write its my first time writing online.

-> BAND OF BROTHERS AND THE PACIFIC aye the actors are hot and each time I watch both miniseries I'm always looking for small details or at least try to. 😅

Your local angry cutie medic ❤❤ and Skinny Sisk local third wheeler in the firend group and under-rated ❤❤ and many more.

-> READING 500 books by the end of the year

( Lol only 20 Read )

Taglist:(No pressure only if you want to )

@goneandbackagain , @lewisnixon ,

@teabights ,@liebgotts-lovergirl , @jump-wings ,@aegondluvrs ,@midnightfictionlibrary , @groupmomlipton , @midgetlover6

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Racing Hearts - Part 2 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Sofia, dragged you to this fancy club, and you reluctantly agreed to accompany her, not expecting much from the night. As you entered the club, you couldn't believe your eyes when you bumped into Charles once again. It seemed that fate, or perhaps Sofia, had led you right back to him.

Masterlist Part 1

Warnings: Fluff, Jealousy, Alcohol

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for your nice feedback! Made my day!

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe, @faithm120601, @needtokeepfeelingsincheck, @bbygrllllllll (hope that worked ;))

The night at Jimmy'z pulsated with vibrant lights and infectious music as you and Sofia stepped into the club, your excitement palpable. You remained oblivious to the surprise awaiting, while Sofia couldn't contain her giggles of anticipation.

"What's gotten into you?" you asked, chuckling at Sofia's excitement.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just... really happy to be here," Sofia replied, though you couldn't help but sense there was something more.

Sofia guided you to the VIP area, and a bouncer escorted you to your private lounge. You looked around, feeling slightly out of place in this world of decadence. In Spain, you had danced barefoot in a small tavern by the beach, whereas here, the girls wore high heels and were styled to perfection. It wasn't just a difference in lifestyle; it was an entirely new experience for you.

"A private lounge? Sof, this isn't necessary," you insisted as the bartender presented you with an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne.

"Yes, it is," Sofia persisted, her eyes darting across the crowd. She waved at someone, and you followed her gaze.

When you saw who was approaching you, your heart skipped a beat, and you turned to Sofia in disbelief.

"What on earth is he doing here?" you whispered, your eyes wide with astonishment. Sofia giggled mischievously.

"Told you he would look for you," Sofia said, her grin widening. "He stopped by the store this afternoon, and I told him to meet us here."

Charles approached you, accompanied by his brother Lorenzo. He looked really handsome with his blue jeans and white bottom up shirt.

As his eyes met yours, his heart skipped a beat. You looked breathtaking in your short black dress adorned with golden sequins.

"Charles! You made it," Sofia beamed while you shook your head in amusement. This was typical Sofia.

"Hi, Sofia," Charles greeted her before his attention shifted to you. He smiled softly, causing your nerves to jangle. "Hi, Y/N. It's really nice to see you again."

Returning his smile, you blushed slightly and brushed a strand of your Y/H/C hair behind your ear. "It's nice to see you again too."

Charles sat beside you while his brother settled next to Sofia. "This is my brother Lorenzo. Lorenzo, meet Y/N," Charles introduced them, and you extended your hand to greet Lorenzo. He took it with a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you."

As the night unfolded, you found yourself engrossed in conversation with Charles and Lorenzo. Your words flowed effortlessly, and you felt the instant connection with Charles that you couldn't ignore.

With each passing minute, your walls began to crumble, replaced by a newfound curiosity and an overwhelming desire to explore this unexpected connection further. You couldn't deny the fluttering in your heart whenever Charles smiled or how his laughter resonated deep within your soul.

However, as the night wore on, the outside world's intrusion weighed heavily on Charles. Whispers and glances followed him wherever he went, and you could sense the burden of public scrutiny resting on his shoulders.

Just as your thoughts started to wander, a voice behind you spoke up in French, addressing Charles. He turned around, a grin lighting up his face. "Pierre, mon pote. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Content de te voir," Charles replied in French.

"Toi aussi, mon ami. Je ne pensais pas te voir ici," Pierre responded, and you glanced at Sofia, who understood everything. However, she realized that you didn't speak French.

"Hi, I'm Sofia. Nice to meet you," Sofia interjected, extending her hand to Pierre.

Pierre shook her hand and smiled, realizing that not everyone at the table was fluent in their language. Then his attention shifted to you, and Charles cleared his throat.

"Uh, Pierre, this is Y/N. Y/N, my best friend Pierre Gasly," Charles introduced you, and you greeted Pierre with a warm smile. Pierre, on the other hand, grinned knowingly, briefly glancing at Charles. The Monegasque had undoubtedly shared your encounter with his best friend.

"Really lovely to meet you, Y/N. Mind if I join you?" Pierre asked, gesturing towards the lounge.

You all agreed, and Pierre settled down beside you. As laughter filled the air and conversations delved into various topics, you quickly realized the many shared interests you had with Charles, such as your passion for music.

You couldn't believe how much you were enjoying yourself. You had initially been hesitant about coming to Jimmy'z, but now, you were grateful for Sofia's persuasiveness. Your group grew more relaxed, and you found yourself feeling more comfortable around Charles.

As the night progressed, the champagne flowed, and the music grew louder. You and Charles found yourselves lost in conversation. You talked about everything from your favorite bands to your dream travel destinations. You couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to him, and you found yourself opening up to him in ways you never thought possible.

Suddenly, the club's lights dimmed a little more, signaling the start of a new set. Charles stood up, extending his hand towards you. "Dance with me?"

You hesitated for a second, but your heart won out, and you placed your hand in his. Surrounded by the pulsating lights, the throbbing music, and the close proximity of Charles, you felt alive in a way you never had before.

As the music grew louder, Charles pulled you closer, and you felt your heartbeat accelerate. You could smell his cologne, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. The connection between you was palpable, and you got lost in the dance with Charles, not realizing the jealous and curious gazes that were thrown at you from all around.

A few songs later, you were sweaty and slightly exhausted, so you made your way back to the lounge. You sat back down and started talking again. Sofia, while encountered in a deep conversation with Lorenzo, glanced at her best friend now and then and couldn't help but smile. She hasn't seen you like that since you started dating Oliver back then.

You felt a deep sense of comfort in Charles's presence and genuinely enjoyed your time together. As the night progressed, another person joined your group. It was Marco Rossi, a close friend of Charles and, as it turned out, Sofia's friend and business partner. He settled in with you, and the night carried on.

Pierre seized the opportunity to inquire about your background. "So, Y/N, where are you from?" he asked.

You smiled warmly. "I'm actually from Y/hometown, born and raised."

"Y/country, how nice," Pierre remarked, stealing a glance at Charles. "And what brought you to Monaco?"

You let out a brief sigh. "Well, I've been traveling through Europe for the past six months, taking a break. Monaco wasn't originally part of my plan, but then I decided to visit Sofia," you said, pointing at your friend, who grinned in response.

"Yeah, and I would've been so pissed if you hadn't come to see me," Sofia chimed in playfully.

You laughed, and your infectious laughter brought a smile to Charles's face. He gazed at you lovingly and casually draped his arm over the backrest behind you. You returned his affectionate gaze with a warm smile.

Unbeknownst to you, someone approached your table and stood before you. It was a stunning woman, exuding a catwalk-worthy allure.

Marco, quickly recognizing her, rose from his seat and kissed her on the cheek. "Isabella, what are you doing here?" he asked, a slight hint of panic in his voice.

"I heard Charles was here, and I couldn't believe it, so I had to see it for myself," Isabella replied, sporting a seductive smile. Her long black hair and piercing light blue eyes commanded attention.

You and Charles looked up, breaking your eye contact, and turned your attention to Isabella. "Isabella," Charles said, his voice tinged with confusion and surprise.

Isabella maintained her seductive smile. "Charles, chéri, it's good to see you. And you too, Pierre," she said, not even looking at Pierre. Her demeanor was arrogant, and it seemed as if she wouldn't care about anyone than Charles.

Pierre rolled his eyes at Isabella but managed to force a smile. Sensing your confusion, Sofia discreetly signaled for you to check your phone. You complied and read Sofia's message: 'That's Isabella Rossi. Charles's ex.'

You looked up from your phone, exchanging a bewildered glance with Sofia. Charles had a girlfriend who was this stunning. Of course, he was a famous Formula 1 driver, so it made sense that he would have a model girlfriend. An uneasy feeling washed over you.

"And who might this be?" Isabella asked, her displeasure evident as she looked disdainfully at you while Charles's arm remained draped over your backrest.

You mustered a smile and extended your hand to Isabella. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." However, Isabella regarded your hand as if it were a bug and ignored the gesture.

"Uh-huh," Isabella responded dismissively, redirecting her attention back to Charles, her smile returning. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Charles glanced briefly at you, contemplating whether or not to comply, but eventually sighed. "Yeah, sure," he acquiesced. He was simply too kind to ignore her request. He stood up and followed Isabella to the bar.

"Terreur," Pierre muttered under his breath as he took a sip of his drink, expressing his disapproval.

"Hey, come on, man, she's still my sister," Marco intervened, defending Isabella. You looked at him, taken aback. The resemblance between Isabella and Marco was now unmistakable, with their dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

"She's your sister?" you asked, surprised. Marco simply nodded and took a sip of his drink.

As Charles and Isabella disappeared into the bustling bar, a knot formed in your stomach. You tried to maintain your composure, but a tinge of jealousy coursed through your veins. You couldn't help but wonder if there were lingering unresolved feelings between them.

Sofia sensed your unease and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, Y/N. Charles is here because of you, not Isabella."

You bit your lip nervously, shaking your head. This was precisely why you weren't seeking a relationship. The potential for unnecessary drama was a major deterrent.

When Charles returned, he appeared somewhat distant. Isabella accompanied him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders.

"All right, then I'll see you tomorrow," she purred, giving him a tender kiss on the cheek while keeping an eye on you, seemingly to assert her presence.

You glanced at the scene, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to stay unfazed by Isabella's actions. Soon, the dark-haired beauty vanished, and Charles settled back down beside you.

"Dude, what did the Wicked Witch of the West want?" Pierre asked Charles, clearly not thrilled about Isabella.

Charles looked at his friend, lost in thought. "Oh, nothing in particular. She just wanted to talk about some stuff," Charles explained, ordering another drink.

Observing your uneasiness, Charles placed a comforting hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked with warmth in his voice.

"Hmm?" you replied, unsure of what Charles was alluding to.

"You seem irritated."

Gazing into Charles's sincere eyes, you felt a whirlwind of emotions—happiness, apprehension, and a hint of fear.

"Oh, no, it's nothing," you smiled, picking up your drink. You discreetly pulled your hand away from under Charles, making him wonder if he had done something wrong, but he didn't say anything.

Later on, Pierre excused himself, mentioning that he had other friends at the venue. Marco was already engrossed in conversation with some other people. A new song blared from the speakers, and Sofia leaped to her feet, pulling Lorenzo onto the dance floor.

With the others gone, you and Charles found yourselves alone, and a shy smile spread across your face. Charles noticed your demeanor and scooted closer to you.

"So..." he said, locking eyes with you.

"So?" you replied, curious about where the conversation was heading.

After a brief pause, Charles continued, "I wanted to apologize about Isabella. She can be... a strong-willed individual who isn't quick to warm up to strangers."

You briefly looked away before responding, "That's okay. How long were you two together?"

Charles appeared surprised that you knew about Isabella. "Err, well, we were together for four years, with some... interruptions."

Understandingly, you smiled. "And let me guess. You broke up with her?"

"Is it that obvious?" Charles chuckled.

You tilted your head and joined in the laughter, "Only a little bit."

Charles took a sip of his drink and reclined in his chair, "To be honest, it wasn't easy. Isabella and I grew apart, and we wanted different things. Whenever I talked to Pierre or one of my brothers, they said that our relationship was toxic."

You nodded sympathetically, "I can understand that. It's tough when two people want different things."

Looking at you, Charles softened his gaze, "Yeah, it is. But I'm glad it ended. It was time for both of us to move on."

Smiling, you felt the connection with Charles again, even though you knew Isabella hadn't moved on as he had, but you didn't voice that thought. "I'm glad you're here with me tonight," you said softly.

"Me too, you. You're a breath of fresh air," Charles replied.

Your heart fluttered, and you felt a sense of excitement, finding Charles different from anyone you had ever met. He was kind, understanding, and genuinely interested in you.

As you continued talking and enjoying each other's company, your thoughts kept drifting back to Isabella. There was something about her that set off alarm bells in your head, making you feel uneasy about the situation.

As the night came to a close, you left the club, enveloped in the chilly night air. Sofia and Lorenzo were still deep in conversation, and you chuckled. Charles kindly draped his coat over your shoulders, and you thanked him with a smile, snuggling into its warmth.

"No problem. It's chilly out here," Charles replied, his voice low and husky. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Can I take you home?"

You glanced at Sofia, who nodded in approval, "I can take Lorenzo home," she said, taking Lorenzo's arm without giving him a chance to respond.

Smiling, you said goodbye to Sofia, and Charles led you to the parking lot. There, a sleek black Ferrari 488 Pista with the Monegasque flag caught your attention.

You gulped, not accustomed to such luxurious cars, but Charles opened the passenger door for you, and you took a deep breath before getting in.

Charles jogged around the car and slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine with a powerful roar that sent vibrations through your body. You drove through the streets of Monaco, and you couldn't help but be in awe of the city's beauty.

"Up for a small detour?" Charles asked suddenly, and you grinned, "I'm always up for that."

You wound your way up a hill overlooking the city. The breathtaking view of glittering city lights and the calm night atmosphere mesmerized you. Charles parked the car, and you sat together on a bench, taking in the serenity.

"Wow, it's beautiful," you gasped.

"It is," Charles agreed, looking at you with a soft gaze, not. He gathered his courage and held your hand again, hoping you wouldn't pull away this time. "I know we just met, but I feel like I've known you for a long time," he said sincerely.

Your heart fluttered, and you felt a warm sensation inside you, "I feel the same way," you replied, locking eyes with him.

Charles hesitated before asking, "When we were at the club, I took your hand, but you pulled away. I was just wondering..."

You sighed, explaining, "It's not because of you, Charles. I... I was hurt before. That's actually why I went on this trip. I got out of a messy relationship, and I'm not looking for something right now, you know? But then I met you, and it just feels right."

He listened attentively as you continued, "When your ex showed up, it reminded me of something I don't want in my life — drama. And drama is written all over Isabella's face."

Charles considered your words, knowing you were right. "Well, I can assure you one thing. I will never get back together with her. Never again. That ship has sailed."

You gazed into his eyes, and your heart swelled with admiration for his sincerity. "Does she know?"

"I hope so. We broke up in the past, I have to be honest. We always found our way back to each other, but now... It's been over a month, and I feel no urge to get back with her, especially after meeting you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your desire to kiss him grew stronger. He leaned in, and your lips met in a soft, tender kiss that soon deepened with passion.

As the kiss finally broke, Charles looked at you with adoration, "I've never met someone like you, Y/N," he whispered.

Feeling the same affection for him, you whispered back, "Neither have I." Your hand stroked his, and you smiled absently, savoring the moment.

Eventually, you decided to call it a night. Charles drove you to Sofia's place, and you shared a lingering goodbye kiss before parting ways.

As you lay in bed, you couldn't help but smile. You hadn't felt like this in a long time and felt fortunate to have met Charles.

At least, that's what you believed now.

[mccall-muffin]

The Lady and the Major - Part 2/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Bucky quickly realizes that Liz is not like any woman he has ever met before. But there is still a war to win, and Bucky has his duties. So, every letter that arrives is a prized possession now.

Warnings: Language, teasing, kissing, sex (not too detailed)

A/N: So, here is part 2 for you. And yes, by now I've seen all the Episodes that are out as of now - so I'm up to date ;)

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @mads-weasley, @brassknucklespeirs, @softguarnere, @shesgonna

As the band transitions smoothly into a slow, captivating melody, the atmosphere of the gala shifts, becoming charged with a different kind of energy. Bucky, seizing the moment, sets aside the formalities with the ease of a man used to taking the lead. He gently takes Liz's champagne flute, placing it on a nearby table with a confident grin. "Care to dance, Lady Cavendish?" he asks, extending his hand, his eyes sparkling with an invitation to step into a moment just for the two of them.

On the dance floor, Bucky guides Liz with a practiced ease, pulling her close enough that their conversation remains private, a bubble amidst the sea of dancing couples. His hands are respectfully placed, yet the occasional, deliberate brush of his fingers along her back suggests a familiarity that goes beyond mere dance partners.

As they move to the rhythm of the music, Bucky can't resist the opportunity to delve deeper into the intriguing paradox that is Liz. "You know, I've been told quite a few tales about the elusive Lady Cavendish," he teases, his voice low and playful. "Word around is that beneath that veneer of the perfect highborn lady lies a spirit too wild to be tamed by society's chains."

Liz, unphased and quick to respond, tilts her head slightly, a challenge in her bright blue eyes. "And just what exactly have you heard, Major Egan?" she inquires, her voice a mix of curiosity and daring. "I'm quite intrigued to know what stories have made their way to your ears."

Their dance becomes a metaphor for their conversation—each step and turn a delicate balance between revealing too much and not enough. Bucky, navigating this dance of words as skillfully as he does the physical one, leans in, his breath a whisper against her ear. "I've heard that you're no stranger to bending the rules, that you find the conventional life of aristocracy stifling. That you've been known to disappear into the night on adventures that would make your family's esteemed guests blush," he whispers, each word carefully chosen to entice and probe.

Liz's reaction is a soft, genuine laugh, a sound that seems to momentarily lighten the weight of her title and societal expectations. "My, my, Major, such scandalous rumors," she retorts, her tone laced with amusement and a hint of defiance. "Let's just say I believe life is too short to be lived within the confines of what others deem acceptable. And perhaps, I do enjoy the thrill of the chase, the excitement of the unknown."

Their eyes lock, and in that moment, a silent understanding passes between them. Here, in the middle of the dance floor, they've managed to peel back another layer of the intrigue that surrounds their budding relationship. Bucky, drawn to the fire he sees burning behind Liz's poised exterior, finds himself more captivated than ever, eager to discover what other secrets lie hidden beneath her aristocratic facade.

As the song comes to an end, they remain momentarily in each other's arms, the last notes fading into the background. This dance, both literal and metaphorical, has drawn them closer, weaving their stories together in a way that neither had anticipated. And as they step back, rejoining the world around them, it's clear that this evening has only served to deepen the intrigue and attraction that pulses between them.

Liz's invitation to step outside carries an undertone of challenge, a silent test of Bucky's willingness to navigate the complexities of her world. He accepts with a nod, the unspoken communication between them sparking with anticipation. However, as they make their way toward the grand doors leading to the estate's gardens, they are intercepted by none other than the Duke and Duchess of Wellington themselves.

With hardly a moment to prepare, Liz leans in, her voice a hurried whisper, instructing Bucky on the proper etiquette for addressing her parents. "Remember, it's 'Your Grace' for both of them," she murmurs, her tone urgent yet composed. Bucky, despite the sudden shift in situation, nods his understanding, a quick study in the art of aristocratic manners.

The Duke, a figure of imposing stature and dignity, eyes Bucky with a mix of curiosity and the guarded warmth of a father protective of his daughter. "And who might this be, Elizabeth?" he inquires, his voice carrying the weight of authority and expectation.

Liz, ever the adept navigator of her family's expectations, steps in smoothly. "Father, Mother, this is Major John Egan of the US Air Force. We met recently at a charity event where Major Egan was sharing some of his experiences from the war. His stories were quite enlightening," she explains, echoing the innocent tale she'd spun for her brother.

The Duchess offers Bucky a polite smile, but it's the Duke's reaction that holds the room in suspense. After a moment's evaluation, his expression softens, a nod of approval directed at Bucky. "A pilot, you say? Well, that's commendable. Our Edward has told us much about the bravery required in such a role," he says, his voice revealing a hint of the pride he holds for his son's achievements.

Bucky, sensing the importance of this moment, responds with the respect and humility befitting the situation. "Your Grace, it's an honor to serve. And it's been a privilege to share some of my experiences with those who understand the sacrifices made in the skies," he replies, his tone sincere.

The Duke nods, seemingly impressed by Bucky's demeanor and the shared bond of aerial combat. "Well, Major Egan, it's a pleasure to have you among us tonight. The bravery of you and your comrades in the Air Force is something we hold in high regard," he states, extending a hand in a gesture of respect and acceptance.

With the formal introductions made and the Duke's approval subtly given, Liz and Bucky are allowed to continue on their way, stepping out into the cool evening air. The brief encounter with her parents was a test, one that Bucky passed with the grace of a man who, despite his unorthodox entry into their world, understands the value of respect and common ground.

As they move away from the light and music spilling out from the mansion, the night around them feels charged with a new energy. Liz's challenge, Bucky's acceptance, and the unexpected approval of her father have all conspired to deepen the connection between them, setting the stage for whatever comes next under the starlit sky.

As they stand together on the balcony, the cool night air mingling with the tension of their conversation, Bucky watches Liz closely.

"You know why I turned them all down? All those ass-kissers of earls, viscounts, and so on who threw themselves at me?"

Her confession hangs between them, a raw and honest revelation that strips away the layers of aristocracy and high society, revealing the woman beneath. He's moved by her vulnerability, by the glimpse she's offered into the gilded cage that is her life.

"Why turn them all down, Liz?" Bucky prompts gently, already suspecting the answer but needing to hear it in her own words.

Liz's gaze meets his, steady and resolute. "Because marrying one of them would seal my fate. I'd be trapped in this world, expected to play the perfect wife, the dutiful daughter, forever," she confesses, her voice laced with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "I want more than what's expected of me, more than this life can offer."

Bucky's respect for her deepens in this moment, his initial attraction evolving into something more profound. He sees her not just as a challenge or a conquest but as a fellow soul seeking freedom from the confines of their respective worlds.

"And inviting me here tonight?" Bucky asks, the pieces falling into place. "Was that your way of rebelling against all this?" There's a note of understanding in his voice, a recognition of her courage in the face of stifling expectations.

Liz nods a small but significant gesture. "You're... different, Bucky. You don't belong to this world, and yet, you stood your ground. That confidence, that defiance—I wanted that for myself, even if just for a night," she admits, her eyes not leaving his.

Bucky steps closer, closing the distance between them, moved by her honesty. "Liz, I may not know all the rules of your world, but I do know about feeling trapped," he shares, his voice soft but firm. "If you're looking for a bit of freedom, even for just one night, then I say we take it. No expectations, no strings. Just two people enjoying the moment for what it is."

Liz's response is a smile, one that reaches her eyes and lights up the night. It's a smile of relief, of gratitude, of a burden momentarily lifted. "I'd like that, Bucky. More than you know," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

As they stand there, two figures against the backdrop of a world that demands so much from them, they find solace in each other's company. For Liz, Bucky represents a breath of fresh air, a chance to experience life unfiltered by the expectations of her status. And for Bucky, Liz is no longer just the enigmatic aristocrat but a woman of depth and courage, fighting for her own identity.

In the moment their lips meet, the world around them—the chatter of the gala, the soft rustle of the night breeze, the distant melodies spilling out from the ballroom—fades into insignificance. Bucky, taken aback by the intensity of the kiss, finds himself caught in the current of Liz's boldness and expertise. Her playful bite, the confident dance of her tongue, signals a depth of experience that both surprises and entices him.

As Liz wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the connection deepens, their bodies speaking a language of their own making. Bucky's hands, resting initially at her waist, venture slightly lower, his touch light but daring over the fabric of her dress, a silent exploration of the territory between propriety and desire.

When they finally part, the look Liz gives Bucky is one of playful challenge, a silent dare that speaks volumes. Her wink, a spark of mischief and promise, leaves him momentarily stunned, a statue on the balcony as she turns to make her way back inside. Yet, the invitation in her glance, the unspoken command to follow, ignites a fire within him.

Liz's graceful navigation through the gala's attendees, each step a tantalizing lure, leads Bucky on a path he knows is fraught with both risk and exhilaration. As she ascends the staircase, her silhouette a beacon in the sea of guests, Bucky's decision to follow feels not like a choice but a necessity, a call to adventure too compelling to resist.

The journey to her quarters, a silent procession through the dimly lit corridors of Wellington House, is charged with anticipation. Bucky, aware of the boldness of this pursuit, understands the unspoken rules of the game they're playing. This isn't just a physical attraction; it's a mutual rebellion against the confines of their respective worlds, a shared quest for authenticity and freedom.

As he follows, maintaining a discreet distance to avoid drawing attention, Bucky realizes that this night, this moment, could redefine the course of their acquaintance. Liz, with her daring and defiance, has challenged him to step beyond the bounds of his own experience, to engage in a dance as risky as it is irresistible.

The decision to pursue Liz, to accept her silent invitation, marks a turning point. It's a step into the unknown, a gamble on the promise of something profound. In this game of hearts and wills, where every gesture is laden with meaning, Bucky and Liz find themselves on the brink of a discovery that could either shatter the world they know or forge a new path forward, together.

As the door closes behind Bucky, marking their entry into a realm removed from the eyes of the world, the air between him and Liz becomes charged with an undeniable intensity. What unfolds is a dance of two souls, a private exchange of affection and connection that transcends the physical space they occupy.

In the seclusion of Liz's quarters, away from the rigid expectations of their external lives, they find a freedom and a fervor that is as much about rebellion as it is about attraction. The room, with its soft lighting and the distant sound of the gala continuing below, serves as a backdrop to a moment of vulnerability and honesty.

The exchange of kisses and the exploration of touch speaks to a deep-seated desire for authenticity and understanding. It's a conversation without words, a dialogue where every gesture, every breath, carries the weight of unspoken dreams and desires.

As garments become mere whispers on the floor, the world outside, with its rules and roles, fades into insignificance. What matters in this secluded space is the connection that thrives in the absence of pretense, a bond forged not just in the heat of the moment but in the shared recognition of each other's true selves.

The rustling of bedding, the soft sighs, and the gentle caresses are chapters in a story that is theirs alone—a tale of discovery, of the courage to seek out the spaces where they can be unapologetically themselves. In the quiet aftermath, as they lie entwined, the significance of this encounter is palpable. It's a promise of possibility, a testament to the power of finding someone who sees beyond the facade to the person beneath.

This night, in the privacy of Liz's quarters, is a declaration of their mutual defiance against the constraints of their worlds. It's an acknowledgment that, despite the challenges that lie ahead, they have found in each other a rare and precious solace, a sanctuary where they can explore the depths of their connection away from prying eyes.

As dawn threatens to reclaim the night, the reality of their respective lives looms large. Yet, in this moment, they are grounded in the profound realization that what they have discovered in each other is a strength, a partnership that might just have the power to redefine their destinies.

Two weeks have passed since Bucky's return from London to the base, and the changes in him haven't gone unnoticed by those closest to him. Gone is the relentless flirt, replaced by a man who seems preoccupied, his attention drawn inward. Buck Cleven, ever the observant friend, can't help but notice the shift, especially in light of the increasing pile of correspondence that seems to capture Bucky's focus each morning.

This particular morning, Bucky is more animated than usual, a smile playing on his lips as he carefully unfolds a letter. Buck, curious and a bit concerned, nudges him. "Who's got you smiling like that, huh? Someone special?" he teases, trying to catch a glimpse of the sender.

Bucky hesitates, a brief struggle visible in his demeanor before he decides to share the letter with Buck. It reads:

Dear Major Egan,

I hope this letter finds you wallowing in the misery of our separation, desperately missing my company. I regret to inform you that I've taken up with a prince, a real one this time, who showers me with the adoration and luxuries befitting a lady of my stature. So, it seems our little dalliance must come to an end.

Please, don't despair too much. I'm sure you'll find a way to mend your broken heart, perhaps with one of those American heiresses desperate for a title, or maybe with a nice farm girl? Someone who can appreciate your... what was it you do again? Oh, right, flying planes.

Do not fret, dear Major. You will always hold a special place in my heart, somewhere between my love for my horse and my tolerance for my brother's tedious war stories.

With all the affection I can muster (which, as you know, is quite limited),

Liz

P.S. I've included a photograph, as you so tiresomely begged for one. Please try not to wear it out with your ogling. I expect it back in pristine condition, or you shall owe me a new one.

Tucked within the letter is a photograph of Liz. The image captures her essence perfectly—beautiful, aristocratic, and brimming with the sly humor that Bucky has grown so fond of.

Buck, reading over Bucky's shoulder, lets out a laugh. "She's got you on a string, hasn't she?" he chuckles, handing back the letter. "You've got good taste, I'll give you that."

Bucky, looking at the photo once more, can't help but laugh as well. He can almost hear Liz's voice as she penned the letter, her teasing tone, the twinkle in her eye as she crafted each sarcastic remark. It's a comfort, a tangible connection to the woman who's managed to upend his world and settle under his skin.

"She's one of a kind," Bucky admits, a warmth in his voice that speaks volumes. Folding the letter and slipping the photo into his pocket, he feels a renewed sense of determination. Whatever it takes, he knows he has to see her again, to bridge the distance the war has placed between them. Liz might tease, might play her games, but beneath the sarcasm and jests lies a connection neither can deny, a story far from over.

Buck watches Bucky with an incredulous look. "Alright, spill it, Egan. Who's the dame that's got you all twisted up? I never thought I'd see the day when John Egan, the lady-killer, would be mooning over some broad," he teases, the smoke curling up into the air between them.

Bucky, feeling a mix of defensiveness and pride, takes a moment before he responds, choosing his words with care. "Her name's Liz," he starts, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile at the mere mention of her name. "Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, if you want to get all formal about it. Met her in London. She's... different, Buck. Not like anyone I've ever met before."

Buck raises an eyebrow, taking a long drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash off to the side. "Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, huh? Sounds like a real high-class bird. Got you good and proper, didn't she?" he chuckles, the humor not quite masking the genuine curiosity in his tone.

Bucky can't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, she did. But it's not like that. She's sharp, Buck. Got a wit that could cut glass and a spirit that's just... infectious. And she doesn't give a damn about all that high-society bullshit. She's trapped in it, sure, but she's fighting it every step of the way."

The more Bucky talks about Liz, the more animated he becomes, his usual reserve giving way to a barely contained enthusiasm. It's clear to Buck that this isn't just some fling or a passing fancy. Liz has managed to break through Bucky's well-guarded exterior, touching a part of him that perhaps even he hadn't realized was there.

Buck, sensing the depth of Bucky's feelings, nods slowly, a new respect in his gaze. "Sounds like a real peach, John. A dame like that, yeah, I can see why you'd be hung up on her." He takes another puff of his cigarette, his expression thoughtful. "Just be careful, alright? These broads from the other side of the pond, they play a different game. But if she's got you willing to jump through hoops, she must be something special."

Bucky's response is a simple nod, his mind already drifting back to Liz, to the memories of their time together and the anticipation of what might come next. The conversation shifts as they move on to other topics, but for Bucky, Liz remains a constant presence, her image, her words, a steady pulse beneath the surface of his thoughts.

In the barracks filled with the coarse banter of soldiers, the smoke of cigarettes hanging heavy in the air, Bucky finds himself in a world apart, his heart anchored across the ocean, tethered to the enigmatic Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, who's managed to do the unthinkable—capture the heart of Major John Egan.

As the morning light spills into Liz's room, illuminating the delicate furnishings and the soft, luxurious bedding she's entangled in, her initial irritation at being awakened fades the moment Mrs. Baxter mentions the letter. Liz's eyes, still heavy with sleep, light up with anticipation, a rare show of eagerness that Mrs. Baxter notes with a soft, knowing smile.

"Seems like your American soldier can't quite keep you off his mind, my lady," Mrs. Baxter says, her tone playful yet respectful, as she hands over the letter to Liz.

Grasping the letter, Liz's usual morning grumpiness is replaced by a flutter of excitement. She carefully opens the envelope, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The letter reads:

My Dearest Liz,

Hoping this note finds you shining bright over there. I gotta say, even the best days in Thorpe Abbotts don’t hold a candle to you. Your last letter? A real knockout. It was like a splash of color on a dreary English day, and let me tell you, that’s saying something.

You teasing about ditching this budding thing we got for some high-and-mighty life with the blue bloods almost had me. But behind all that sass, I know there’s a warmth that keeps me going, has me lying awake thinking about you.

That picture you sent is my new prized possession. Seriously, it’s with me everywhere. Every time I look at it, I see that spark in your eyes, that smile of yours, and it hits me hard—how much you’ve come to mean to me.

Even though we’re worlds apart, you’re always on my mind. The thought of seeing you again is the light at the end of this tunnel. I’m holding onto the hope that this mess of a war gives us a break soon, so I can be back by your side, soaking in your glow.

Till then, just know I’m here, waiting and hoping.

Always yours, Bucky

Liz reads the letter, a smile playing on her lips, touched by Bucky's words that manage to be both teasing and heartfelt. The sincerity in his tone, the open declaration of his affection, strikes a chord deep within her, warming her more than the morning sun ever could.

Mrs. Baxter, observing Liz's softened expression, can't help but comment, "Seems like the Major has a way with words, my lady."

Liz, looking up from the letter, meets Mrs. Baxter's gaze, her smile widening. "Indeed, he does, Mrs. Baxter. Indeed, he does," she replies, her mind already racing with thoughts of how to respond, how to match Bucky's blend of humor and sincerity in her next letter.

For a moment, the challenges and restrictions of her world seem distant, as Liz allows herself to be carried away by the promise of what's to come, buoyed by the words of a man who, despite the chaos of war, has become an anchor in her tumultuous life.

What she doesn't know is that soon everything will change.

Next part >>

[ithinkabouttzu]

Tag game

GET TO KNOW ME :))

Thank you for the tag!! @malarkgirlypop

NAME:

Mac! (excluding the thousands of nicknames I also get called)

PRONOUNS:

she/her

STAR SIGN:

I’m a sagittarius with a taurus rising and a aries moon!

# OF SIBLINGS AND FUN FACTS ABOUT THEM (IF YOU HAVE ANY):

1 younger brother, he is the sweetest little soul ever, but he has no chill 😭 (he got in trouble for putting fireworks up his ass and lighting it on new years day)

1 older brother! He’s very tough and can be very overprotective over me but he’s cool, he also plays american college football which is super interesting !

# OF DOGS & THEIR NAMES

1 dog, one named Ella Bea, who is a gsp rascal and also wants to live under my skin (she has separation anxiety)

And another dog names Bella, who is the sweetest dog ever She’s a brown lab and she’s been with me forever

FANDOMS

Band of brothers, The Pacific, Kpop, Lana del rey, and Cod MW2!!!

FAVORITE COLOR

sunset orange but i’m a pink girlie at heart!

FAVORITE SONG

This song is amazing 😩 go listen to it now!!

FAVORITE AUTHOR (OF ANYTHING READABLE - BOOKS, FANFICS, ZINES, WEBTOONS, WHATEVER)

fanfics:

@malarkgirlypop @softguarnere @bellewintersroe @liebgotts-lovergirl Sorry I can’t think of any more rn 😭

Books:

Twisted Lies - Ana Huang

All Quiet on The Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque

FAVORITE FIC TYPE:

Childhood best-friends to lovers (someone please write a fic like this for sledge 😵‍💫) !! Idk why I love it so much but it’s just so fluffy and sweet, like it’s always been you and it’ll always be you. Also Enemies to lovers! The thought of seeing only the worst side of someone and still loving them, is so beautiful.

FAVORITE HOLIDAY:

Halloween and Valentines!

I love putting up decorations for halloween and for Valentines, I just love, love!!

DO YOU HAVE A PARTNER (ROMANTIC, QPR, ANYTHING!)?:

I had gotten out of a somewhat relationship not too long ago, so i’m just chillin now

HOBBIES:

I love reading, writing, playing the piano, learning korean, honestly just learning new things in general. I’m a total history nerd so you’ll find me watching probably the Smithsonian channel in my free time 😭

FUN FACTS ABOUT ME:

- I actually love studio ghibli movies, they are my absolute favorite!

- I’m also a big football and basketball fan, growing up with 2 brothers that play it and a dad who coaches football, you get the hang of it all pretty quick

- I love cooking!! I’m the main cook in my family and friend group :)

(I can’t think of anyone to tag so i’ll just leave it here :)))

[rogue-durin-16]

💚cast your mutuals as band of brothers characters💚

In no particular order:

@cielie-voss as Don Malarkey (the biggest Hufflepuff vibe. A dork. The trauma. Right up my alley. Deadpan funny. Functional despite everything (how?). Underestimated but could kill you and wouldn't get caught. Kinda reckless. The sweetest soul. Deserves better.)

@itswormtrain as Joe Liebgott (scrappy little bastard. Literally where were you raised (affectionate). Trouble but in an endearing way. Sardonically funny. A tease. Actually hot.)

@gaypiratesandangels as David Webster (I wanna wrap you up in a blanket and mother you. Introvert. Artsy. Film lover. Writer. Well-spoken. Versatile. Kinda 💅🏻.)

@lordndsaviorwinters as Alex Penkala (Token introvert in a trio of extroverts. Actually trouble but no one would believe me. A gentleman. Awkward. Unintentionally funny. Tied to the hip to the following mutual.)

@addiesfairytalebs as Skip Muck (you and Lana come in pack or what. Little shit but actually smooth. Will make everyone feel included. Prettiest smile. Tone the mischief down. Lucky af.)

@iambasilgnome as Joe Toye (Irish queen if I remember correctly. Witty. Cool but in a simple way. High-key badass. Gryffindor but softie.)

@liebgotts-lovergirl as Floyd Talbert (Super easy o talk to. Cheeky. Flirty. A true sweetheart. Loyal to a fault. Probably fit be put in charge but idk if you'd like it.)

@bandofbrothersandsisters as Eugene Roe (Caretaker. Goes unnoticed for absolutely no reason. Self-critical. Mom friend but also let me mother you. Little anxious queen. Cat person.)

@onlyyouexisthere as Richard Winters (glueing this fandom together everyday. Flawless content. Inspiring. Introvert. Idk if you know what's socializing (affectionate).)

@tvserie-s-world as C. Carwood Lipton (down-to-earth. Underrated af. Nourishing this fandom low-key silently. I feel like everyone of us appreciate you endlessly but don't say it a lot. Queen of encouragement.)

@rossmccallsqueen as Harry Welsh (funny. Kind of unhinged. Easy to talk to. Would hang out with you anytime. ENFP vibes even though you might not be.)

@victoryrollsandredlips as Lewis Nixon (so classy. Cultured. Good taste. Probably prone to addiction (yes, media consumption counts). You need to sleep. Very supportive.)

@wwhatev3r as Shifty Powers (Introvert. A joy to have around. Very polite. The few times we interacted I wanted to invite you into my home and give you hot chocolate and cookies. Giving old soul vibes.)

@nandoalonsos as Ronald Speirs (cryptic creature. I like you but you also throw me off. What's your real identity bc I feel like I'll never pin you down. Giving off a super cool vibe tho.)

@iwasathomeintonawanda as Donald Hoobler (sweet and simple in the best way. Giving a "I'm a little awkward irl" vibe. Legally I can and will adopt you. Probably hardworking but also messy. Has the best intentions.)

If we're indeed mutuals and I forgot about you let me know and I'll add you real quick<3.