#john brady x ofc

[lostloveletters]

Jesus or Gasoline (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Woody isn't sure what she believes in, except for the way John Brady makes her feel.

Note: Here it is, the result of my making a ‘guy who says grace before giving head’ joke about Brady. I wanna give a million thanks to all the Woody/Brady babes out there because y'all's support and enthusiasm for them means the world to me! As usual I listened to a lot of Bruce Springsteen while writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. This goes into Woody’s not so great childhood/young adulthood and her generally negative internalized thoughts surrounding religion. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (f. receiving) and coming in pants.

The field behind the hangar was a questionable date spot at best, but Woody figured it was better than nothing. Secluded enough with some lighting as to not be stumbling around in the dark, but without fear of being easily identified if they got caught before they could make a break for it if needed. 

Word of the late night rendezvous had come from Holly, barely able to contain her excitement at being the messenger. “Your beau wanted me to tell you to meet him tonight,” she whispered, giggling as she added, “said you’d know where.”

Woody had given Holly all of the details the night John Brady kissed her, her best friend in ecstatic disbelief that so much had happened while she and Bucky were listening to a baseball game across the way. Holly took girl code as a sacred oath, not mentioning Woody and Brady’s relationship to a soul in the week or so that had passed. John wasn’t exactly pleased when Woody let him know that she told Holly, but he supposed if Woody trusted Holly that much, he could, too.

“There you are, sweetheart,” John said, with a genuine fondness that she almost couldn’t believe was directed toward her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head, greeting him with a kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a Hershey bar from his pocket. 

“Don’t waste that on me, are you kidding?”

“Holly told me you give the village kids whatever candy you get, and I know ground crew doesn’t get as much in your rations as we do.” 

Good ol’ Holly. “They appreciate it more than me.”

He looked at her pointedly, though eyes glistened in amusement as he half-scolded, “Don’t reject a gift, sweetheart. It’s bad manners.”

Woody fought back a smile, felt her cheeks heating up . “Thank you, Johnny. You’re real sweet.” Gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Can we at least split it?”

“I won’t say no to that.” 

The grass was damp from the late afternoon rain. She was glad she thought to grab an old blanket, worn out and smelled faintly of fuel, but it’d do. 

He split the bar in two, handing the bigger half to her. She took a bite, surprised to find herself feeling a wistful melancholy for the states at the taste of it. Wasn’t sure she ever felt homesick before, but there was a first time for everything. Like John laying out on the blanket, resting his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a laugh.

“Great view from here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, I’ve been dying to ask you this ever since I met you,” he began, giving her pause at the seemingly endless possible questions he could hit her with. “Do you really like being called ‘Woody’?”

She nodded, stroking his hair, taking in how relaxed he looked. “Yeah, I really do. It’s been nice to leave ‘Kate’ behind and start fresh.”

“So your first name is just Kate?”

“Shows you how much thought my parents put into it.”

“See, I wanna know more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk a good deal, but I don’t know much about your life before all of this.”

“I don’t have anything nostalgic or good to tell you, especially not about me. I’m ashamed of who I was before. I’m trying to be better, John. I really am. I don’t—I don’t hang around people who have nothing going for them.”

People like how she used to be. The backstreets burst at the seams with them. Children of neglect, of the Depression, of something wild otherwise running through their veins. They made their homes where they could. Guys who rode around on streaks of lightning, spewing pure gasoline from snarled lips on each of those hilly avenues until they were wrangled in the back of cherry-topped police cars. Girls who should’ve known better drank empty promises out of broken glasses, handed to them by the constantly circling shark-men. Kate learned quickly not to get attached to anyone. They looked out for each other, but they weren’t friends. There was a difference.

“I got an older brother named Tom. Last I heard he was in jail for holding up a liquor store,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, though. That’s when I really started looking after myself.”

“Eleven is pretty young to be on your own,” he said, taking her hand from his hair and holding it in his own, intertwining their fingers.

“What were you doing when you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “Rode bikes around with my friends. Started learning saxophone. I was an altar boy, too.”

“So your family went to mass a lot when you were growing up?”

“Every Sunday that we could. I remember my mom waking us up to go even when we had to walk through a foot of snow to get there because the roads hadn't been cleared yet,” he said, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Doesn’t seem all that bad, now. Maybe it—it helped some.”

Woody had seen John make the sign of the cross dozens of times. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Remembered the first time she watched him among the other Catholic guys in the 100th, crowded around the chaplain for his makeshift blessing on the tarmac before their missions. Devotion ran exceptionally high then, men suddenly armed with a rainbow of beaded rosaries and holy cards adorned with saints whose weary eyes gazed upward, where those men were soon to be. Their heads bowed in silent contemplation as the priest concluded in Latin, John’s mouth moving along with sed libera nos a malo. But deliver us from evil.

A handsome face like his deserved half a dozen kids with names like Mary and Francis who filed neatly into a pew with their shiny patent shoes and a big family meal to look forward to after mass. Kids who gave the likes of her odd looks when she shuffled into church for whatever lunch the nuns were dishing out that afternoon. Always dressed in her Sunday worst—ill-fitting blouses and holey shoes until she ditched their charity and decided she was better off raising hell in denim jeans. God loved everyone, and his love was unconditional, but no one wanted to say he loved some people more than others, and Kate was pretty low on his list. 

After all, Kate Woodward was born without a middle name on a Wednesday morning that even god himself forgot about. Didn’t know what the weather had been like the first time she breathed in the air of her home city, but she was sure it felt like a kick in the chest. Probably why babies cried when they made their grand escape from the womb. 

Hardly raised in the first place, Kate had little faith in god or man, just in the machines she could bend to her will until they gave her freedom to go wherever she pleased. But her freedom had gnashing teeth and a forked tongue that were never satisfied, no matter how many vices she fed it, and she was nothing short of gluttonous in this endeavor. 

Tried and true, the one she had the hardest time shaking—sticky fingers. If Kate saw something she liked, she took it. From drug store shelves to purses to wallets, nothing was off limits. As time went on, her spoils only got bigger and better, linking up with people who taught her how to steal cars like riding a bike. She had yet to find a replacement for that particular thrill, but her self-control had markedly improved in a little over two years.

Then there were men with hacksaw smiles that threatened to cut her open if she got as close as they wanted her to. Thunderous voices that cracked with rage when she’d shove the smoldering cherry tip of her cigarette into a hand that got too close for comfort. None of them were any good, not like the man with his head in her lap, who brought her chocolate rations and listened intently to her, even as her voice shook with trepidation at bearing so much of her heart.

Woody hummed, her fingers trembling as she traced the features on his face—his expressive brows, the nose that gave him a profile she could hardly tear her eyes from, lips she dreamed about since the night he first kissed her and every time since. Besides the power of a well-maintained engine, she believed in the way she felt about John.

“I was lonely and angry,” she murmured after relaying her patchwork of regrets and fears to him. “I made a lot of mistakes because of that. It’s not an excuse. But I wanna be honest with you so you can still change your mind about me if you want to. I understand if you do.”

“There’s nothing to change my mind about, sweetheart. I want to be with you,” he said, conviction strong in his voice as he sat up.

“I’m not a virgin,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would’ve been surprised if you were.”

“Well, I didn’t love any of them—four guys in total, mind you—and it’s not like I got anything out of it, either.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Crushes were for girls who lived in nice houses and wrote hearts above their i’s. Desire ran hot, expressed in glances made with hooded lids beneath buzzing neon lights that left a thousand things unsaid. But after that handful of physically underwhelming experiences which ended up being far more trouble than they were worth, she came to the conclusion that she was better suited to get her own rocks off.

“Got what out of it?” he asked.

She chewed on her lip. The only sin out there was getting caught, and Kate Woodward never got caught. Woody chose to confess. “I had to get to the good part myself.”

“That’s unacceptable.” 

Her heart sank. “I haven’t done it in—“

“Those selfish bastards never made you come?” 

“Not one.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to be your first.”

“I want you to be,” she said, leaning back on her hands in the dewey grass, spreading her coverall-clad legs apart. “I wanna do everything with you.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the inner hem of her coveralls. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want your mouth.” Truthfully, she’d never had a guy go down on her before. Heard about it from other girls, wild ones out in the desert. A few others as she got to know the first group of WAAC girls she bunked with after enlisting. Even from Holly, as apparently Stan had been generous and enthusiastic about that aspect of their sex life. Stan, Stan, what a man, the girls would tease about Holly’s fiance before he was dearly departed. 

The corners of John’s lips twitched up as he brought his fingers further along the hem, inching closer to her covered sex. “Never had a girl ask me to do that before.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

She hesitated, averting her eyes from him. “A lot of guys think it’s gross.”

“I think I should decide for myself, don’t you?” He cupped her chin, caressing her jaw with his thumb. “Look at me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

Upon returning her gaze to his, she found no judgment behind his eyes, but a passionate sincerity.

“I want you to go down on me,” she said.

She studied him as he watched her. His pretty lips parted slightly, drinking her in as more of her body was exposed. It wasn’t a strip tease, nothing sexy about the way she pulled her arms out from the sleeves and yanked her coveralls down to her knees, finally kicking them to her ankles and off entirely. Sat before him in her white t-shirt, plain underwear, and boots, almost boyish if not for her breasts, low on her chest, nipples poking through the fabric. 

“Are you wearing a bra?” He sounded breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was even asking.

“No,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, letting him in on another secret. “I always take it off at the end of the day. Don’t tell anyone.” 

As if the other girls didn’t know, with some degree of judgment along with their understanding that the damn thing got uncomfortable, could chafe with all the work they were doing, the sweat and friction. It wasn’t like anyone could really tell beneath the other layers, anyway. But anyone meant anyone of the male persuasion, and with that, John dutifully shook his head.

His lips were on hers in an instant, a hand on her waist, the other shoved up her shirt, squeezing her breasts. She gasped at the way his rough palm felt against her nipple, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue in her mouth. Her moans were lost to the world, claimed by him and him alone. He straddled her lap, keeping her in place beneath him. 

John moved his hand from her waist to between her legs, rubbing her already wet pussy through her underwear. Her lips were undoubtedly swollen from the ferocity with which he kissed her. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of how it’d feel against her cunt. 

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off of her. Bringing up her knees, she felt a burst of adrenaline rush through her at being so exposed to him.

“You need to tell me how I’m doing, alright? I wanna make sure you feel good,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mumbled, almost dizzy with desire as he lowered his face between her legs.

His hot breath on her cunt, lips brushing against her folds. She strained to hear… whispering?

“Johnny?” she asked after a few moments of aching anticipation. “Baby, if you don’t wanna— Jesus Christ,” she choked out. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the rest of them. 

His tongue lapped at her clit, eyes looking up at her for approval. With a shaky nod, she bid him to continue, biting her lip as to stifle the whine that threatened to escape her mouth. A noble attempt, but fruitless when he licked up her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Her heart was beating between her legs. 

Woody could make herself feel pretty damn good on her own. She lifted a dirty magazine from a guy in Reno once. Had pictures and everything, though she wasn’t sure how real it all was. She’d look at the pictures, tongue between her lips and hand between her thighs as she imagined herself in those women’s places, feeling the ecstasy written all over their expressive faces with their typically faceless partners. From there, she’d get creative, allowing her mind to conjure up a man who, behind her closed eyes, could bring her to orgasm. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never thought she’d find one who’d actually want to bury his face in her pussy. 

Fuck, if she couldn’t feel John’s fingers digging into her thighs, she would’ve almost thought she was dreaming. She grabbed his hair, pressing his face harder against her cunt. He was giving so much, and she’d take all of it, greedy with the pleasure he offered her.  

He slid two fingers inside her pussy, slowly enough to see how she’d take it before pumping them in and out at a quicker pace. Used his other hand to hold her down when her hips jerked up in his face, like her muscles had a mind of their own, hellbent on reaching an orgasm. Hell, so was she.

“Just like that— fuck,” she rasped, her nails scraping against his scalp.

She nearly wanted to ask if he’d been lying, if he had gone down on a girl before. He at least had enough experience to know where her fucking clit was, but his mouth. Jesus, how could he expect her to go to the officer’s club and watch him play saxophone after this? As if she wouldn’t be sitting there, skin feverish, thighs pressed together, thinking about his mouth and his fingers in that moment. The way his teeth grazed against her clit, making her pussy clench around his fingers. The way it almost felt like he was making out with her cunt. Their eyes would meet, and he’d know, maybe have a little smirk on his face up there, too. An obscene secret privately shared amidst dozens of other people who’d be none the wiser. 

“Don’t stop,” She was so close it almost hurt, wound up tight and pulsing in her gut, waiting to be released. “Please don’t stop.” Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Her chest felt like it was on the verge of bursting open. Between a fistful of grass and a hand buried in his hair, she cried out his name like a vulgar prayer in the night as her orgasm rocked through her.

A universe of stars burst across her abdomen, white-hot supernova tearing through her muscles, blinding her from anything but the pleasure that pulsed from her pussy. She finally came down from it, covered in sweat, chest heaving, a wild-eyed woman as John pushed himself back up on unsteady arms.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so he was straddling her lap. Took in his mussed up hair and the way his lips glistened with the traces of her still on them. She kissed him, a muffled moan in her throat at the taste of herself on this tongue. 

She wanted him. More of him. Everything he had to give. Wasn’t sure it’d be enough to sate her need, but damn if she couldn’t try.

“Johnny, can’t we just do it?” she pleaded, her voice a girlish whine that sounded otherwise foreign coming from her as she desperately pawed at him.

“Next time,” he whispered. “Next time, sweetheart, I promise.” Grazed his teeth against her hummingbird pulse. “I didn’t bring a condom.” 

“But what about you?” she pressed, reaching for his crotch. “You must be—“

He shook his head, cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. “I got carried away, sweetheart. I, uh—I’m good.” 

She slipped her hand down his pants, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm for herself. Her fingertips brushed the sensitive head of his spent cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Was he good, though? He groaned. No wonder Douglass kept so many goddamn rubbers in his footlocker.

“Next time,” he repeated, voice strained and husky in a horrific display of self-control. He nearly regretted it when she pulled her hand away, feeling something sinful stir in his gut as she inspected her hand, finally bringing it to her mouth and licking the residue off her knuckles with a feline-esque curl of her tongue.

“Just say the word, Johnny. Whenever you want me to return the favor, I’ll drop everything for you.”

He swallowed roughly. She meant it.

#john brady x oc #john brady #john brady x ofc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: woody #so basically i got carried away

[wexhappyxfew]

crash landings and all

(a/n): to my annie x brady girlies, here is the piece i’ve since promised and since fallen in love with!!! featuring annie, brady, coffee cups and the rising sun + some heartfelt talks about reality. and of course all those emotions annie doesn’t really need but feels instead. enjoy!

It was 0600 and she couldn't sleep.

But this had been happening far too many times in the past few weeks for her to ignore it and call it nerves, or worry, or any other bothersome symptom that would have one of the girls nudging her and asking her if she was okay.

Which she was, alright?

Or she was at least trying to tell herself that.

When there were mornings without missions, that's usually when she would come and sit out, just outside of the mess hall, and stare out towards where the B-17s sat, silhouetted against the purple and pink skyline as the sun began to appear. She'd usually sit there for about an hour, before she started seeing people moving about, and then she'd disappear inside, grab herself a coffee, avoid one of Major Egan's horrible jokes in the morning, and then be on her way to her crew, or to Silver Bullets, or to anything really - to distract herself, get her mind active, get her brain focused on something other than the worry.

This morning was no different - beautiful as the early dawn was, it was also incredibly reflective. She'd sit in the silence, the only noise the breeze in the trees and past her ears, the birds beginning to wake up and sing. It was usually a lot of her convincing herself things were fine and that everything was okay. That she was okay. But usually that didn't last very long and she was off worrying about one of the girls, or that one damn engine on Silver Bullets, or better yet if Lemmons had screwed that one bolt in enough. It kind of ate her alive at the worst of times.

"Hey." Annie looked up and found, stepping down onto the step, and nestling in beside her was Brady, an outstretched hand with a steaming mug of coffee opposite her, and a tired smile on his face.

"Hey," Annie said, trying to hide her surprise and current spiral that she thought was normally drawn across her face, "you're up early. Thanks." She took the coffee and watched as he settled beside her with a sigh, sipping at his own cup of coffee and glanced her way.

"I could say the same about you." he said back, his voice still waking up it seemed from sleep, knocking her shoulder gently. Annie watched him, the first rays of the morning son painting his face a beautiful golden with his eyes and she nodded.

"Couldn't sleep." she told him honestly, "Haven't been sleeping too well anyway, so. What's not to lose with a sunrise, you know?" Brady watched her for a moment, his lanky knees bent up to his chest, the mug resting on his kneecap and his expression quiet.

"Something worrying you?" he asked her, seemingly the first assumption of many on this base - was something worrying her? The sun would shine and she'd be worried, she'd be sat at a table and someone would cough and she'd think she'd have to get the doctor, someone would come in with a headache and she'd assume the worst. So, yeah, maybe there was something wrong, but she wasn't about to spill that to Brady at 0600 in the morning.

"I just worry about the girls, you know how it is. Making sure people are sleeping, eating, feeling okay, not feeling too homesick they're bedridden. That their letters get sent, get read, they get comforted, listened to." Annie said, "Just making sure they're keeping what smiles they can on their faces." Brady caught her gaze as she glanced his way and she found a small smile lingering on her lips.

"It's just what I have to do. Make sure things work like a well-oiled machine." she told him honestly, sipping at the coffee, "I must say, you know how to make a coffee taste good." Brady smirked slightly, a bit of a laugh escaping his mouth, before he looked at her.

"I'm glad you like it," he told her, his voice tender, "but don't try to worry yourself over your crew. They're a good group of ladies flying a B-17. And they've got a great pilot to lead 'em."

"Thanks, John."

"Just make sure you keep an eye on yourself, alright," Brady said, leaning into her side a bit, causing her to glance his way, "you're a part of that crew and just as important." He spoke with a gentle ease of tone, but equally just as serious, like he was coaxing someone to calm down.

"John Brady, you are full of compliments this morning." Annie said quietly, sipping her coffee and peering at him over the edge of coffee cup, just in time to watch his ears flame red a bit and he gulped and smiled at her.

"I don't lie." he told her and Annie grinned and held his gaze for a moment.

"Humor me then," Annie said and a brief moment of reflection passed over Brady's face, "Croz sort of let it out, about those 'mechanical failures' when he mistook France for England…..what was that about…..?" Annie watched him expectantly and Brady's ears flamed a deeper red to the point it spread to his cheeks.

"Supposedly you covered for Croz, real gentlemanly, too, I must admit." Annie said, "Lying to Major Egan of all people, John Brady, I wouldn't suspect such a thing." Brady chuckled at her words and shook his head.

"I was putting it how it was," Brady said, "God, it was embarrassing though. In front of both Buck and Bucky. Land the plane on its belly, Croz vomiting just below, the thing about to blow up but it doesn't, our first introduction to the base. You do what you gotta do for the crew. I was a bit of a shithead to Croz, but to be flying over France -Nazi-occupied France - it wasn't the most pleasant." Annie smiled, watching him as he spoke.

Knowing how he cared how he flew, how he coped. He was so fluent in what he thought and believed, right and truthful. Caring, gentle, but firm and purposeful in his speech.

"The worst was that belly-landing though," Brady said, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee, "that was horrible." Annie watched as Brady seemed to relive it for a moment. She bit back her lip and then reached a hand forward and placed it on the sleeve of his wrist, the touch warm and welcoming and causing their eyes to meet.

"I crashed an AT-6 when I was doing hours for my license." Annie said - she had never dared to tell a soul such a thing, she wanted to take that to the grave, bury it, hide the humiliation. She'd jumped out of it like she was losing her mind, a lunatic sprinting across the base, with her hair ends crispy and black, her blonde hair suffering from the smoldering smoke, looking more monster than woman in that moment. Not her finest, but it had taught her a whole lot of lessons. Brady watched her for a moment, surprised.

"You?" Brady said with a nod, "Crashed not only a plane, but an AT-6? No, I don't believe you." Annie could get his joking tone pretty solid by this point and instead laughed at his words, leaning back to wrap her slightly cold fingertips around the mug and nodded.

"I did in fact crash-land it. Crazed eyes, hair-on-fire and all." Annie said and Brady watched her as if amazed.

"I must admit, it's hard for me to picture that because you're one of the best pilots I've ever met." Brady said and if she were honest, they both looked surprised as that came out of his mouth, but he was quickly talking next and she took a moment to relive those words.

"I mean, you look so calm and collected….what…what happened to warrant that?" he said, leaning a bit closer, evidently interested in the tale that had her losing her mind for weeks after.

"Truth be told, me learning to fly was like telling a fish to live in a tree," Annie said watching as Brady chuckled, "I wasn't always….this." She pointed to her face and Brady smirked.

"Oh c'mon, you're a goddamn good pilot, Annie, really." Brady said, and then smiled, "Go on though." Annie sent him a look with a playful smirk.

"You, asshole." she said and nudged his shoulder, "Don't try to get back at me with that or something in the future."

"Never, my lips are sealed." Brady said, sending her a wink - why would he do that at six am when she's somewhat still fogged with sleep and brain exhaustion.

"Anyway," Annie said, catching his smile again, "all the engines crapped out on me as I was coming in for the landing, the tower was telling me to eject, ejector was jammed, and the wheels were stuck at 45 degrees. So, I did what I could, braced myself and the thing slid across about hundreds of feet of sand before tilting to the side, me pouring out like Ma's soup for dinner. It was so bad, and horrifically embarrassing. God."

"Hey," Brady said, leaning into her peripheral, "'least you can say you know how it's done." Annie let out a laugh at his words then and there, her heart feeling warm for one of the first mornings sat out here; usually alone and now in good company.

"I mean, it wasn't the first time I even crashed landed." Brady offered with a shoulder shrug. Annie stared at him, trying to keep the smile from her lips.

"You're joking."

"Wish I was, Annie," Brady said, "back in training, went down, Croz could tell you all about it. Became pretty well-known among the base and the training groups." He smiled.

"But," he said, "'least I can say I did it." Annie let out a laugh, clasping a hand over her mouth as she glanced at him and watched him chuckle, his eyes glowing in the morning sun that was slowly peaking its way over the horizon line.

"You should join me for mornings like this more often," Annie said quietly, looking out towards the sunlight, "get some things off your chest. It's why I do well….usually alone, but it helps me think. Through things like that." She looked over and met his gaze and smiled. His expressions in the early morning were so much gentler than at dinner, and it almost made her wish he could stay like that forever in some selfish way. All of them, truth be told.

"I think I will," Brady said, "I'm glad you like the coffee. I wasn't sure what you went for, but….you seemed like a cream type of person."

"You either are really good as guessing or someone snitched." Annie said, catching Brady smirking.

"Nah, Bessie was in there the other day getting coffee for you two. I know she drinks straight black and was wondering who the hell she'd be getting a coffee full of creamer for so…." Brady admitted, glancing her way, "I hope you enjoy it." Annie looked to the cup of coffee and took another lingering sip. She wanted to stay like this for a while, freeze time maybe. But that would never be such a thing in their lives.

"We should take a spin together some time," Annie said looking towards him, a smile growing on her lips, "if you ever wanted to be in Silver Bullets when she gets going in the air. You could be my co-pilot." Brady watched her, his face still for a moment, held in a graceful balance of seriousness and surprise and then the corner of his lips ticked upwards.

"I think Francis would drop-kick me from the cockpit." Brady whispered quietly to her and Annie chuckled.

"She'd be fine with it, I swear to you," Annie said, "maybe not anytime soon, as long as we're going up, dropping bombs and all. But maybe when this whole thing ends. And we just get to be. When we get to go home." Looking over, she found Brady already watching her. Home, seemed to echo in her mind the longer she held his gaze.

"Hey! That you Brady?" Annie watched Brady turn away from her face and glance behind her, her own gaze following to find Crank coming towards them, waving an arm, "Buck's been trying to get a-hold of you!" Brady nodded and then looked back at her, a sudden shift in whatever it was that existed between them. He slowly got to his feet, brushed off his pants and then stopped to lean down towards her ear.

"I'd love to be your co-pilot," Brady whispered, sending chills up her neck, "ma'am." Then, he was up and off, sending her cheeks flaming red, her eyes going over her shoulder, as he went and caught up to Crank, shaking his hand and nodding to him, exchanging all the pleasantries. Annie caught his eyes one final time as he glanced back at her. He winked.

#im so normal about them i swear #THEM!!!! #annie bradshaw #john brady #annie x brady #john brady x oc #listen they were going through and its john brady so ofc he had to find a way to make her blush :')))) #very excited to continue just writing them #can promise they do get to take that spin in silver bullets together ;D #THEMMMMM #an absolute joy these two #proud of this one :) #enjoy!! #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets

[mercurygray]

The Unquiet Tide

I am happy to report that - after a little bit of work - most of my MOTA OC work is now up and available for your reading, commenting and subscribing pleasure on AO3.

Since Masters of the Air lends itself to a more episodic approach, each of these stories will take place as a series of short format pieces posted more or less in chronological order. Much of the work is being driven by prompts from readers like you! I will still be posting updates here on tumblr, but will probably be linking directly to the full text on AO3.

The three fics are collected in The Unquiet Tide, so if you're on AO3 and would like to subscribe to collection updates for easy notifications, you can now do that!

Pavilioned In The Fields - Cordelia Callaway (John Egan x OFC)

Cordelia Callaway knows planes - she grew up building them and watching them be flown, and there is no one better in the entire Army Air Forces for keeping a level head while one of them comes in for a landing in flames. If the only way she can contribute to the war is making sure all these man land safely, then there's no one else you'd want in your control tower, because she doesn't do things by halves, either. Unfortunately, that also means holding grudges - and if you're the 100th's executive officer, that means you might be in for a very, very long war.

Your Best Girl - Fred Torvaldsen (John Brady x OFC)

Someone said this war would come with donuts, and Freda Torvaldsen is here to make sure they’re right. As a somewhat new replacement for the Red Cross Clubmobile team at Thorpe Abbotts, Freda - or Fred, as she's usually called - is still learning everyone’s name (and everyone is still learning hers!) but she’s confident with time that she’ll fit right in - and a certain clarinet-playing captain is hoping she fits right in with him.

Seek To Hold The Wind - Marion Brennan (Neil Harding x OFC)

It is one thing for the Army Air Forces to send planes out, and quite another to bring them back home. Someone must be there at the end, to gather all the pieces up to make sure what has just happened makes sense. That's Marion Brennan's job, and she's damn good at it - a life spent in the Army will do that to a woman. She's also here to do it without distractions - though a certain former football coach and commanding officer is making that rather difficult.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #masters of the air OC #masters of the air x oc #freda torvaldsen #marion brennan #cordelia callaway #also i think it's really funny that as of right this moment #fred has bookmarks #cord has hits #and marion has nothing #so that's that on the prevailing fandom taste at the moment

[skiesofrosie]

some mota & BoB WIPS *\^o^/* (more for my own brain really)

currently re-thinking/re-plotting/re-whatevering little sunshine fires (benny demarco [mota] x ofc). i had a plan, but i'm scrapping it, and trying to find more clarity with where i'm going next - where the characters are going, really, after the onslaught of fluff.

joe toye (BoB) x ofc - a childhood sweethearts story, 🥺 where the world seems hell-bent on keeping these two lovers apart from each other. a three-part story.

skinny sisk (BoB) x ofc - a high school sweethearts, coming-of-age love story. most likely a two-part story, if not three. navigating a relationship between a boy who's scared of forever, and a girl who's a hopeless romantic. pre & post-war.

joe liebgott (BoB) x ofc (amy calloway) - a couple drabbles, from "all is fair, but matters of the heart" (1) the moment joe realizes he's in love with amy, and amy with him. (2) amy surprises joe in san francisco, to say she wants to build a home with him. :)

on the back burner >o< (these may be reader inserts, we'll see)

john brady (mota) - enemies-ISH to lovers >:)

eugene roe (BoB) - camp toccoa love love love

#band of brothers #masters of the air #benny demarco #joe liebgott #joe toye #skinny sisk #masters of the air x oc #band of brothers x oc #eugene roe

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch3: Man, You Really Are As Dumb As You Look. Part 2 Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Evan asks Stella on a date, Jake’s not impressed and the entire thing takes him on a little trip down memory lane…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT via flashback in Part 2 (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  So the smut in this chapter is way back when the pair of them were kids. Both 18 before anyone says anything, and is designed to be a truthful reflection of a first time! We hope you enjoy it because it certainly made us giggle a lot.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 Part 1

June 1999

Jensen parked his Dad’s ford on the drive at the side of Stella’s house and climbed out, the box containing her corsage which matched his boutonniere in his hand. Taking a deep breath he headed round the back of the house and into the kitchen, not bothering to knock as usual.

Stella’s mom was in the kitchen and she looked up at him, smiling.

“Oh my goodness, Jacob Calvin Jensen…you’ve always been a handsome young man but tonight…well, you look positively dapper!” he beamed.

“Thanks Jules.” Jake felt the heat in his cheeks as he blushed at her praise. “Is Stel ready?”

“She should be, she spent almost all afternoon locked in her room with Rey.”

“Oh, ok. Has she erm…got a bag for tonight?” Jake suddenly felt his mouth go dry, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck. What the fuck was wrong with him? Stella had stayed at his loads of times before and Jules had never batted an eyelid, hell he’d stayed here plenty too and not a word had been said. But now, he was suddenly feeling nervous. But as he looked at Stella’s mom she just smiled and stepped forward towards him. She reached out to straighten the grey and silver bow tie and looked at him.

“She’s special Jake, but you already know that.”

Ok so now he wanted the fucking ground to swallow him.

“Her bag’s in the hall.” Julie stepped back, patting the lapels of his jacket. Jake gave her another smile, set the box with Stella’s corsage down on the side and headed into the hall, taking the opportunity to escape for a moment as he took it to the car, slinging it into the trunk. He headed back inside and before he had to think of anything else to say to steer the conversation away from the fact that Jules knew full well he was planning on having sex with her daughter that night, he was saved by Aubrey who waltzed into the kitchen.

“God, she’s a nervous wreck.” Aubrey mumbled, “Being a right pain in the ass. I’ve done and redone her hair about fifty times.”

She grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, completely ignoring Jensen which was fine by him, and slumped down at the kitchen table.

Julie sighed “So were you at your prom!”

“That was because I was on for Prom Queen.” Aubrey shrugged. At that Jake rolled his eyes, he couldn’t care less about all that Prom Queen shit. As far as he was concerned he had the best girl on his arm. At that point Rey’s eyes flicked to him and she gave a little smile “Well, don’t you scrub up fine?”

“Well Stella told me if I wore my soccer kit she’d kill me” he shrugged and Rey snorted before she frowned.

“Where are your glasses?”

“Contacts” Jake shrugged “Don’t wear ‘em often other than for sport but…”

“Huh.” Rey shrugged.

“Is that everything or you wanna know what colour boxer shorts I’m wearing?” Jake quipped “Can show you if you like?”

“Jacob!” Julie looked at her and he flashed her a cheeky grin.

“For your information they’re black” he winked and then raised his wrist to check his watch. It was getting a little later than he wanted it to be now, but at that point besides him Julie gave a little gasp and he raised his head to see Stella stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Jake felt his moth drop open as he looked at her. He’d seen her dressed up before but never like this. Her dress was a deep blue satin with a pleated skirt that finished just below her knee. It tapered in at the waist and the bodice was lace, high necked and sleeveless with flower applique. On her feet she wore a pair of cream coloured peep-toe pumps that were decorated with little crystals along the arch and her blond hair was pulled back off her face into an elegant knot. Those blue eyes Jake could happily lose himself in popped under a smoky brown eyeshadow and her cheeks were expertly rouged.

She looked like a modern Grace Kelly, absolutely fucking amazing.

“Hi.” He stuttered, stepping towards her.

“Hey Jakey.” She smiled, a little shyly and at that point her mum gave a cough and gestured to the door with her head. Rey rolled her eyes and stood up, following her out as Julie shut the door to give the two of them a bit of privacy.

“Stel you look stunning.” He smiled, dropping his lips to hers in a soft kiss and she beamed at him.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Jake smiled, and then suddenly remembered the box on the side “Oh, here…” he took her hand and led her after him before he picked it up and opened the top. Stella peered inside and then looked up at him.

“Petunia.” she chuckled.

“Well I know they’re your favourites.” He said, gently taking it out surprised to see his hands were shaking. “Right or left.”

“Erm left.” She said after a short deliberation, holding her hand out for him. “Less chance of me banging it.” Jake smiled and gently slipped the pearl-effect beads over her manicured fingers so that the flowers sat on her delicate wrist and she looked at it, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome babe.” He grinned and she leaned up to kiss him again. “So err, you wanna go. Your bag’s already in the car…and it’s almost 7 so…”

“Yeah, oh…Mom wanted a photo first. Your mom called her before demanding one so…”

Jake groaned “God she was crying when I left. Dad had to drag her back inside as she was waving the car away.”

Stella grinned “Well her baby’s all grown up.”

“Wouldn’t go that far.” He quipped and Stella shook her head with a laugh and headed for the door.

After Julie had gushed over the pair of them and taken what felt like enough photos to fill an entire album she pulled Stella into a hug and Jake stepped back, but not far enough as he still caught what Julie whispered to Stella.

“Your dad would be so proud of you sweetheart.”

“Mom.” Stella sniffed a little and Jake bowed his head, turning to look at Rey who was also surprisingly emotional. He flashed her a little wink and she smiled back as Stella turned to him.

“Ready?” he asked and she nodded. He took her hand and together they walked down the drive. He made sure he opened the car door for her, waiting till she adjusted her dress before shutting it and then hopped in the driver’s side.

Julie and Rey waved them off as he reversed onto the street before they pulled away.

“Oh, before I forget who did you have in the sweepstake for starting the first fight?” Jake asked as he turned left at the top of her street.

“Simon Rogers.” Stella said.

“Rogers?” Jake frowned, “Seriously?”

“Yup” she nodded “He might be small but he’s vicious. Plus Vinnie Foxborough has asked Jenny Marchant to be his date, and we all know she was dating Rogers like a month ago. It’s going off, I’m telling you.”

**** An hour or so after arriving, the Prom was in full swing. They’d done the usual posing for photos upon arrival and headed straight to grab a drink before navigating to the table their group of friends had already claimed. Stel had then headed off to go speak to a few of the girls from her hockey team whilst Jensen had stood with the captain of his soccer squad and a few of the other guys from the team. Eventually they’d worked their way back to one another as the announcements and general fuss started regarding Prom King and Queen. It came as no surprise to anyone who was named, Stacey Holbrook-popular girl number 1 and Will Brady- popular guy number 1. Jensen gave an exaggerated yawn as cheers rang out around the Sports Hall. Stella looked at him, arching an eyebrow as she sat in the chair next to him round their table, his arm slung casually over the back of her chair. He shrugged and grinned as he watched them both take to the stage, a hush fell over the room. Stacey began gushing into the mic, her words vaguely registered in Jensen’s mind as she squealed about how surprised and honoured she was…bla bla bla.

He wouldn’t have minded either, but in Jake’s eyes, she wasn’t a patch on the girl sat to his right. He moved his hand from the back of Stella’s chair, gently placing it round her shoulders and pulling her into him, pressing a kiss to her temple. She looked at him and he flashed her a wink as he reached for his soda. He took a loud gulp and sat back, and then before he could stop it a huge burp escaped his mouth. Jensen sat stock still as everyone in the hall turned in his direction, accusingly. Stella was sinking lower into her chair, trying to disappear but Jake sat up tall and spun round in his seat as if he too was searching for the culprit.

“Disgusting!” he called out loudly, shaking his head. “Whoever that was should be ashamed of themselves.”

A few titters broke out across the hall and he spotted his Football coach smirking at him as he turned back to look at Stella who had her hand slapped over her forehead.

“You’re a fucking nightmare.” She hissed at him.

“I couldn’t help it!” he whispered back. “Better out than in as my dad always says…” As it turns out that was just one of the 2 reasons Jake found himself having to talk his way out of trouble that night. The second however, Jake was pleased to report was Stella’s fault. He was stood talking a few guys from the soccer team when John Digby, their right-back and captain suddenly nudged Jake.

“What?” Jake asked, looking at him. John nodded over his shoulder and Jake turned to see Stella was in an angry exchange with the captain of the football team. A huge, hulking jock that played quarterback called Brad Kingsley.  He watched for a second, grinning as the huge guy seemed actually quite frightened of Stella who was jabbing him in his chest but then as he spotted Brad’s girlfriend stalking towards them he gave a groan. “Ahh shit. Be right back…”

“Good luck with that!” John shot after him as the team laughed “Your Misssus is fuckin’ scary…”

“Don’t I know it.” Jensen mumbled as he jogged over to where quite a crowd was gathering now, just in time to hear Stell call Brad a fucking asshole. “Hey, hey…” Jensen said gently, grabbing her arm. She turned to look at him and he instantly saw the problem. The front of her dress, over the chest area was soaked.

“He just spilt his drink all over me, and not even a fucking apology!” she seethed.

“It was an accident!” Brad said, his voice loud.

“Fuck you!” Stella snarled and Jensen took a deep breath.

“Stel, babes, come on…” he consoled her a little, and she took one final glare at Brad, before she looked at Jensen, wrenching her arm free and stalked away. He watched her go for a bit before he turned back to Brad, seeing the guy was now cracking his knuckles ominously. What he lacked in brains, which was quite a lot actually- the guy was thick as two short planks- he made up for in brawn and whilst Jensen was more than capable of holding his own in a fight, he really didn’t fancy his chances here. “Brad, look man, I don’t want any trouble…” “I can’t hit women.” Brad shrugged “But I can give you a smack for your girl’s mouth…”

“Come on…you know what they’re like.” Jensen shrugged “Plus its shark week so….hormones…” he smoothed out the bigger man’s jacket before both his hands rest on his upper biceps, slapping them gently before he let go. “She rides the red river and it turns her into a fucking ogre. You wouldn’t really wanna hold that against me would you bro?” “Suppose not.” Brad mumbled. “Cheers pal, I owe you.” Jensen slapped his back as he made a hasty retreat, letting the air out of his lungs as he walked.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed with little to no drama and Jensen actually found it to be quite enjoyable. For the first time it dawned on him that this, well this really did signal the end of high-school and in 3 months, just over 12 weeks or so, he and Stella would be off to Norwich to start the ROTC for 4 years. He was looking forward to it- living away from home, the fun of College life whilst training with the Army and most of all having his best friend and girl by his side. Buoyed by the sudden feel good factor, he dragged Stella off to dance with their friends and the pair of them grinned when about 4 songs in the opening bars of Journey “Don’t Stop Believing” hit their ears and everyone on the dance floor gave a loud shriek.

“Well what do you know, they’re playing our song.” Jake grinned as he pulled Stella towards him.

“It’s odds on they’d play this.” She rolled her eyes, grinning as he began to sing in a stupid voice, twirling her around. She watched him as he ran through his usual dance moves to the song…pointing at everyone when he sang the word strangers, arching his hand upwards a little over his head like a rainbow to the word boulevard. By the time the song hit its crescendo their entire group of friends had joined in and Stella shook her head at him as he gave her a wink.

“You’re an idiot…” she said as the song finished and morphed into something by the Backstreet Boys that Jensen couldn’t remember the name of.

“But I’m your idiot, doll.” He grinned and she gave a laugh cocking her head to one side, her arms sliding up round his neck.

“Yeah, yeah you are…”

At that point they were both shoved violently to the side, Jensen grabbing Stella to stop her falling. He spun round, immediately ready to give whoever it was a warning to be careful when his eyes fell on Simon Rogers and Vinnie Foxborough who were both going hell for leather in the middle of the floor, fists flying as people rushed into separate them. With a  groan Jensen turned to Stella who was stood there, the rest of their friends also hanging their heads as she held her hand out, palm up. “Pay up, losers!” she grinned, and Jake snorted as Sally, Ewan, Brady, Mackenzie and Danny all reached into their purses or wallets and slapped five bucks into her hand each. She looked at Jake and he frowned.

“I’m not paying you.” He shook his head.

“Stop being a whiney bitch JJ.” She grinned and he shook his head again.

“I’ll buy you a Big Mac meal on the way home instead.”

Stella looked at him, considering his offer before she grinned “You do know that’s gonna cost you more than five bucks, right?”

Jake shrugged “You’re worth it.”

“Gee, thanks” she snorted.

“What can I say, I’m a romantic…and speaking of which…” he moved closer to her, dropping his head down so his lips were by her ears. “Wanna get out of here? Mom and Dad are out tonight so we can have the place to ourselves for a few hours before they get home.”

Stella turned her head to look at him, and he noticed that her cheeks had flushed a little and she bit her lip shyly before she nodded.

“Yeah, ok.”

 Jake smiled, taking a deep breath before he pressed his lips to hers. They made their excuses to their friends, promising to catch up with them all soon and then the two of them made their way hand in hand off the floor, weaving in between people as they headed for the exit.

**** “I think my personal favourite bit was when you called the captain of the football team an asshole.” Jake said as he grabbed Stella’s bag from the trunk of his dad’s car “Good times.” “He deserved it.” She narrowed her eyes.

“And I supposed I deserved the punch he was going to give me for you being a mouthy brat.” Jensen looked at her as she shrugged, grinning.

“Yeah, how did you talk you way out of it anyway?” she asked, taking his hand as they walked down the drive towards the front door.

“Told him it was shark week.” Jake shrugged and Stella stopped dead.

“You did what?”

“You heard me, I blamed your little meltdown on hormones.”

“You are such an asshole!” Stella grit out through her teeth and Jake laughed, turning to face her.

"It was that or he punched me in the mouth, and let’s face it gorgeous, this-."  he waved his hand in a circle round his face, finger pointing towards it"-is too good to ruin"

She looked at him, shaking her head and snorting as he dropped a kiss to her cheek and opened the door. The house was dark and empty as he let Stella in first, where she dropped her shoes which she was carrying in her hand to the floor as Jake followed her into the hall, dumping her bag.

“You want a drink?” Jake asked and Stella turned to him, nodding.

“Yeah”

“A proper one?”

“Dur.”

Jake grinned and he led her down the hall and into the little den where his dad kept the good stuff.  He tossed his jacket over the back of the arm chair, shrugging off his waistcoat and depositing that in the same place. Rolling his shirt sleeves up to get more comfortable, he yanked open the liquor cabinet and blinked when he saw the post it stuck on the front of the bottle of vodka. It was his dad’s handwriting and with a snort he pulled it off and handed it to Stella.

“Don’t even think about it…” she read with a laugh “Fuck he knows us so well.”

“Like he never did it.” Jake grumbled, shoving the bottle back. He stood up and made his way through to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge “Oh come on dad!” he groaned as he saw another note stuck to the beer. He read it and gave a shrug “ok, so apparently this is fine…”

He pulled two out, popped the lids and handed one to Stella. She took a huge pull and let out a groan.

“Not being able to legally drink until 21 sucks “she grumbled, “I mean how can we be old enough to join the army but not consume alcohol?”

“Maybe we should move to Europe babe.” He said as they both dropped onto the sofa. Stella snorted and then sighed.

“We may end up doing.” She tapped her finger nails against the bottle “I mean, who knows where we’re gonna end up.” “Yeah, well we got years to think about that.” Jensen shrugged as he reached for the remote to turn the TV on but stopped abruptly as Stella grabbed his wrist.

“Seriously, the house is ours…and you brought me home early to watch TV?”

“No, I was…just…” he trailed off as she took the bottle off him, placed it on the table and then hitched her dress up slightly so she could straddle him. Jensen swallowed a little as her hands gently copped his face and she kissed him. For reasons which he couldn’t even place himself, because damned they’d done a lot more than simply make out, he was nervous and it showed clearly as Stella pulled back, frowning a little.

“What’s wrong?”

Jake looked at her, blinking in the dim light of the room and shook his head, jerking himself to his senses “Nothing, nothing at all.”

In a flash his lips were back on hers, his arms round her back as he held her close, his tongue snaking into her mouth, tanging with hers. As the kissing grew in intensity, he could feel himself growing aroused and clearly Stel could do as she rotated her hips slightly, grinding down against him and he gave a hiss. His hands moved to the side of her thighs, pushing up her skirt even further, fingers trailing against her skin and she moaned as he gripped her ass, giving a little squeeze. With an easy movement, Jake stood and turned them so she was under him on the couch. His lips moved to her jaw and he trailed hot kisses down her neck to the top of her dress, focussing on that spot on her neck he’d found the first time they’d made out, enjoying the little whimpers she made right by his ear. His hands crept back up her skirt, settling on her hips as her arms wrapped around him, dancing over the top of his shirt. His lips moved back to her mouth and he kissed her again, pushing down against her and Stella gave a soft keen of delight at the contact.  

“Fuck, I love you Stel.” He muttered against her mouth.

“Love you too Jakey.” Her voice was punctuated by a gasp and he pulled back to look at her, her eyes shining.

“Stel, I know…I haven’t asked you if you wanna…you know…” he stumbled over his words and she smiled softly, and cut him off.

“I do.”  She assured him before she pushed her head upwards, lips crashing onto his and her hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it free of his pants. His back muscles twitched as her hands danced over his skin, the sensation of her gently dragging her nails across the base of his spine sent a spike of desire, like a red hot poker through his entire body and he let out a groan.

“Can we go upstairs?” he asked softly.

“Yeah…” she nodded.

Wordlessly he stood up, shifting his pants slightly which were fucking uncomfortable thanks to his now painful erection and grabbing their beers in one hand, he held his other out and pulled her to her feet. He led her out into the hall, up the stairs and across the landing into his room, kicking the door shut with his foot.

He flicked on the lamp on his nightstand, his eyes glancing at the photo of the two of them taken after one of his soccer matches where his cheeks were red and his face was sweaty from the exertion of the game. He loved that snap, it was the final match of the season where they had won the league and the day he’d first told her he’d loved her. Her face had lit up as she’d whispered it back to him, before he’d made it past second base that evening on the chair in a dark corner of the garden, their families milling around elsewhere, completely oblivious.

He set the bottles of beer down and turned to look back at her. She was stood, watching him, biting her lip out of nervous anticipation and suddenly a wave apprehension crashed over him as he started to realise that this was going to happen. The thought of losing his virginity to Stel had never worried him before, hell, they’d done pretty much everything else bar hit the home run to so speak, but for some reason now it seemed like a big deal. He swallowed a little, his mind flicking back to the conversation he’d had with his sister a few days ago. Whilst he and his dad were close- condom conversation proving that- there were something he just didn’t want to ask his old man about, and how to make Stel feel good when he popped her cherry so to speak was one of them. So he’d approached Jane, who for once hadn’t ripped him to shit. She’d told him the first time was gonna be awkward as hell, so he needed to be gentle, get her off in some way before he poked her (Jane’s words, not his) and most importantly he had to make sure she was ready to do it.

Licking his lips he walked back towards her and she stepped closer to him, her eyes locking onto his as his hands fell to her hips and he kissed her again, before his fingers skated up the back of her dress and he found the zipper. With a deep breath, Jensen slid the zipper down her dress causing it to fall forward slightly and he got a glimpse of her breasts, which he had yet to actually see come to think of it, and here they were, clad in a lacy, strapless black bra. He held onto his shoulders and he glanced down, watching her as she stepped out of it, kicking it to the side.

“God you’re beautiful.” He stuttered out and Stella giggled nervously before he kissed her again and pivoted them so he could lay her out on her back on his bed. He crawled up next to her, laying on his side as she tipped her head and he kissed her again, his right hand sliding up and cupping her breast over her bra. Stella arched her back a little and Jensen’s groan caught in his throat as he slid his hand down her bare stomach and gently slipped it into her panties, over her soft curls and felt her slick against his fingers. He started to play with her, the way he’d found out she’d liked and his face watched hers intently as she bit her lip, her eyes falling shut in pleasure. Before long her hips started to move against his hand and he gently moved his wrist, inserting 2 fingers inside her. Her body reacted the way he’d seen before and encouraged he continued his movements. Her hand moved up to grab at his hair, pulling him down to kiss him and before long she was crying out, her hand wrapping around his wrist as her walls fluttered around his fingers as she came.

Jensen was actively now trying not to blow his load in his pants as he watched his girl ride out her orgasm. His eyes squinted slightly as he pressed his forehead to hers, the sticky fingers from her core resting on her hip. After a moment or two that same hand moved up her side and under her back, his eyes closed as he reached her bra.

His fingers paused on the clasp and he looked at her, remembering his sisters words and he kissed her again, his head pressing against hers.

“Please tell me you want this” he said, his voice a nervous plea.

“Yeah, yeah I do…” she nodded.

“Good, me too…ok...that’s good” he smiled against her lips as his fingers moved to her clasp. He’d read there was a technique to flicking it open with a snap of your thumb and finger, but right now that really wasn’t’ happening. Shifting slightly he slid his other arm underneath her as she moved her shoulders slightly to allow him to get both hands on it, but he was still struggling, his fingers slipping against the clasp.

“Stell.” He whispered and she looked at him.

“What?”

“I'm nervous” he lightly chuckled. She smiled, and bit her lip.

“Me too.” She sat up, “Here…” her arms moved behind her and she undid her bra, tossing it to the side as it fell forward. Jake watched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, giving an involuntary gasp almost as he saw her bare breasts for the first time.

Her fingers gently undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and Jensen gently slid down, taking her lace panties with him before he stood up, dispensing of the rest of his clothes, his eyes roving over her bare form as she lay on the bed, watching him. Fuck, the sight of her laying there completely naked was sending him into overdrive so as quickly as he could he moved and reached into the drawer on his night stand for the box of condoms he’d bought especially. His fingers slipped a little as he tore the foil packet open, his hand shaking as he knelt on the bed between her legs, rolling it down over his shaft. It was awkward, and he was starting to get a little bit het up when Stella put a hand over his and he glanced up at her knowing full well she could read him, she always could. She guided his hand down and once he was sheathed he moved, his hands either side of her shoulders as he positioned himself.

With as gently a movement as he could, he worked his way gently into her letting out a loud groan, and her breath hitched a little. The sensation of being buried in her for the first time washed over him, her tight warmth hugging his cock and his arms gave way causing him to drop to his elbows. Luckily he caught himself in time, and he shifted a little to support his weight on his forearms so he didn’t crush her.

“You ok?” she asked softly. Every muscle in his body was tense and she could clearly feel it as he lay over her.

“Yeah.” He panted. “You?” “I’m good…” there was a little pause and she placed her hand on the bottom of his back, applying a little pressure with her palm, almost as if she was trying to pull him towards her "Jakey, you gotta move, please baby..."

So he did. He started thrusting. Slowly at first, picking up the pace a little as he gained confidence. Her hands slipped up his back and came to rest as her arms hooked under his, palms flat on the back of his shoulders.

Jensen watched her carefully as he continued his movements, his eyes locked onto hers. She looked straight back at him as her body gently moved with each thrust he made. He leaned down to kiss her, and it's was a little sloppy because his brain and body were that awash with this absolute new sensation of pleasure that he was struggling to function or focus on much at the moment. He broke the kiss, dropping his forehead to hers, his mouth slack as the heat tightened in his belly and he knew it wasn’t going to be long before he came.

"Stel, I'm not...I'm not gonna..." he started to explain, almost apologies even but she cut him off.

"It's ok,..." she nudged his nose with hers "Let me see you..."

He raised his head and she looked straight at him, and with a few more little thrusts he was gone, tipping over the edge with a little grunt and a cry of her name. As the surge of pleasure washed over him he pitched forward, burying his face into her neck, breathing deeply as the world span around him, the blood pounding in his ears was almost deafening.

Stella’s hands gently slid up his back, scratching at that spot on the nape of his neck, softly tangling in his hair.

"You ok, did I hurt you?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her.

"You'd never hurt me Jake."

“You’d never hurt me Jake…”

Those words echoed round Jensen’s brain and with a groan he rolled onto his back as sleep persistently evaded him. That was one trip down memory lane he hadn’t needed, more so because the words were fucking bullshit. He had hurt her, the one thing he'd always sworn never to do. That night, their first time had been perfect, and whilst it had been awkward as hell and he’d lasted all of 5 minutes, it had been special because they’d loved one another.

Jensen turned his head to see Britney, the dark haired friend of the nurse he’d met in the bar the other night sleeping, next to him and he lay back with his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling. Seeing Stella before had riled him enough to call the woman and pick her up from work after her shift ended at midnight. A bottle of wine and few shots of tequila later their clothes had ended up strewn all over his apartment and, well, here she was, fast asleep next to him.

It hadn’t been a bad fuck. Jensen had the impression Britney was after a release as much as he had been and it had shown, neither of them wasting any time on foreplay. But as he lay there he was kind of ashamed to admit he missed the cuddling that Stella would always seek out after.

With another sigh he hauled himself out of bed, located his boxers and headed to his kitchen for some water. He drained a glass before grabbing a packet of advil, tossing 2 down and then draining another glass before he wandered back into the bedroom, dropping back down next to his sleeping guest. He turned himself onto his side, his back facing her and closed his eyes willing sleep to come for him.

****

Not wanting to be a total Douchebag, Jake at least made Britney some breakfast the next morning before he told her he really needed to get ready to work. She smiled at him, understanding totally she was being dismissed and hopped off the stool by the breakfast bar, locating her clothing. He watched her go, noticing the way her hips swayed underneath his t-shirt was nothing like as arousing as how Stella’s did, before he dropped the dishes into the sink shaking his head.

Once she was ready, Jake opened the door to the landing and she turned to face him. “Look, I know this was probably a one- time thing but…”

At that point Stella’s door opened and Jake’s eyes flicked to her over Britney’s shoulder as she stopped dead and looked at him, then the woman in front of him, before she gave a snort and a shake of her head, turning to lock her door. Jensen felt that stupid, child inside him stir and he turned to Britney shaking his head.

“No, that’s…” he said, stopping her, his voice loud enough to carry across the landing “I’d like to take you out. Do it properly next time?”

“Really?” Britney almost squealed and threw her arms round him. “That’s…yeah, I’d love that Jensen.”

“Great, I’ll call.” He smiled, leaning down to give her a peck on the lips. She pulled back, pinched his cheek and then headed for the elevator

“Didn’t know Mc Donald’s dealt in brunettes.” Stella said dryly, arching an eyebrow.

Jensen shrugged and grinned “Let’s just say it was a different kinda drive through…”

Stella wrinkled her nose “That’s gross.”

Jensen snorted, and watched as she moved towards the elevator before she stopped and instead turned towards the stairs. He watched her go, and no sooner had the stairway door shut the elevator arrived.

“Bye!” Britney called, blowing him a kiss. Jensen smiled and then turned back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him, banging his head back against the wood. What the fuck had he just done? Something that was meant as a quick bang one night had suddenly morphed into him taking the girl on a date?

Could always just change your number?

No point…she knows where you live.

Move apartments?

Little dramatic, all things considered don’t you think?

Maybe you should give the girl a chance? I mean, after all, Stella’s taken one on Agent Dick Name…

Yeah. That was sensible, and she hadn’t been a bad lay after all.

With a decisive nod he pushed himself off the door and headed for the shower.

**** Chapter 4 Part 1

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen #the losers

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It...

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Ch 3- Man, You Really Are As Dumb As You Look...

Part 2

Summary: Evan asks Stella on a date, Jake’s not impressed and the entire thing takes him on a little trip down memory lane…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT via flashback in Part 2 (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  So the smut in this chapter is way back when the pair of them were kids. Both 18 before anyone says anything, and is designed to be a truthful reflection of a fist time! We hope you enjoy it because it certainly made us giggle a lot. Thanks Tumblr for eating the first post of this...

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist 

Please read Part 1 first…

June 1999

Jensen parked his Dad’s ford on the drive at the side of Stella’s house and climbed out, the box containing her corsage which matched his boutonniere in his hand. Taking a deep breath he headed round the back of the house and into the kitchen, not bothering to knock as usual.

Stella’s mom was in the kitchen and she looked up at him, smiling.

“Oh my goodness, Jacob Calvin Jensen…you’ve always been a handsome young man but tonight…well, you look positively dapper!” he beamed.

“Thanks Jules.” Jake felt the heat in his cheeks as he blushed at her praise. “Is Stel ready?”

“She should be, she spent almost all afternoon locked in her room with Rey.”

“Oh, ok. Has she erm…got a bag for tonight?” Jake suddenly felt his mouth go dry, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck. What the fuck was wrong with him? Stella had stayed at his loads of times before and Jules had never batted an eyelid, hell he’d stayed here plenty too and not a word had been said. But now, he was suddenly feeling nervous. But as he looked at Stella’s mom she just smiled and stepped forward towards him. She reached out to straighten the grey and silver bow tie and looked at him.

“She’s special Jake, but you already know that.”

Ok so now he wanted the fucking ground to swallow him.

“Her bag’s in the hall.” Julie stepped back, patting the lapels of his jacket. Jake gave her another smile, set the box with Stella’s corsage down on the side and headed into the hall, taking the opportunity to escape for a moment as he took it to the car, slinging it into the trunk. He headed back inside and before he had to think of anything else to say to steer the conversation away from the fact that Jules knew full well he was planning on having sex with her daughter that night, he was saved by Aubrey who waltzed into the kitchen.

“God, she’s a nervous wreck.” Aubrey mumbled, “Being a right pain in the ass. I’ve done and redone her hair about fifty times.”

She grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, completely ignoring Jensen which was fine by him, and slumped down at the kitchen table.

Julie sighed “So were you at your prom!”

“That was because I was on for Prom Queen.” Aubrey shrugged. At that Jake rolled his eyes, he couldn’t care less about all that Prom Queen shit. As far as he was concerned he had the best girl on his arm. At that point Rey’s eyes flicked to him and she gave a little smile “Well, don’t you scrub up fine?”

“Well Stella told me if I wore my soccer kit she’d kill me” he shrugged and Rey snorted before she frowned.

“Where are your glasses?”

“Contacts” Jake shrugged “Don’t wear ‘em often other than for sport but…”

“Huh.” Rey shrugged.

“Is that everything or you wanna know what colour boxer shorts I’m wearing?” Jake quipped “Can show you if you like?”

“Jacob!” Julie looked at her and he flashed her a cheeky grin.

“For your information they’re black” he winked and then raised his wrist to check his watch. It was getting a little later than he wanted it to be now, but at that point besides him Julie gave a little gasp and he raised his head to see Stella stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Jake felt his moth drop open as he looked at her. He’d seen her dressed up before but never like this. Her dress was a deep blue satin with a pleated skirt that finished just below her knee. It tapered in at the waist and the bodice was lace, high necked and sleeveless with flower applique. On her feet she wore a pair of cream coloured peep-toe pumps that were decorated with little crystals along the arch and her blond hair was pulled back off her face into an elegant knot. Those blue eyes Jake could happily lose himself in popped under a smoky brown eyeshadow and her cheeks were expertly rouged.

She looked like a modern Grace Kelly, absolutely fucking amazing.

“Hi.” He stuttered, stepping towards her.

“Hey Jakey.” She smiled, a little shyly and at that point her mum gave a cough and gestured to the door with her head. Rey rolled her eyes and stood up, following her out as Julie shut the door to give the two of them a bit of privacy.

“Stel you look stunning.” He smiled, dropping his lips to hers in a soft kiss and she beamed at him.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Jake smiled, and then suddenly remembered the box on the side “Oh, here…” he took her hand and led her after him before he picked it up and opened the top. Stella peered inside and then looked up at him.

“Petunia.” she chuckled.

“Well I know they’re your favourites.” He said, gently taking it out surprised to see his hands were shaking. “Right or left.”

“Erm left.” She said after a short deliberation, holding her hand out for him. “Less chance of me banging it.” Jake smiled and gently slipped the pearl-effect beads over her manicured fingers so that the flowers sat on her delicate wrist and she looked at it, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome babe.” He grinned and she leaned up to kiss him again. “So err, you wanna go. Your bag’s already in the car…and it’s almost 7 so…”

“Yeah, oh…Mom wanted a photo first. Your mom called her before demanding one so…”

Jake groaned “God she was crying when I left. Dad had to drag her back inside as she was waving the car away.”

Stella grinned “Well her baby’s all grown up.”

“Wouldn’t go that far.” He quipped and Stella shook her head with a laugh and headed for the door.

After Julie had gushed over the pair of them and taken what felt like enough photos to fill an entire album she pulled Stella into a hug and Jake stepped back, but not far enough as he still caught what Julie whispered to Stella.

“Your dad would be so proud of you sweetheart.”

“Mom.” Stella sniffed a little and Jake bowed his head, turning to look at Rey who was also surprisingly emotional. He flashed her a little wink and she smiled back as Stella turned to him.

“Ready?” he asked and she nodded. He took her hand and together they walked down the drive. He made sure he opened the car door for her, waiting till she adjusted her dress before shutting it and then hopped in the driver’s side.

Julie and Rey waved them off as he reversed onto the street before they pulled away.

“Oh, before I forget who did you have in the sweepstake for starting the first fight?” Jake asked as he turned left at the top of her street.

“Simon Rogers.” Stella said.

“Rogers?” Jake frowned, “Seriously?”

“Yup” she nodded “He might be small but he’s vicious. Plus Vinnie Foxborough has asked Jenny Marchant to be his date, and we all know she was dating Rogers like a month ago. It’s going off, I’m telling you.”

**** An hour or so after arriving, the Prom was in full swing. They’d done the usual posing for photos upon arrival and headed straight to grab a drink before navigating to the table their group of friends had already claimed. Stel had then headed off to go speak to a few of the girls from her hockey team whilst Jensen had stood with the captain of his soccer squad and a few of the other guys from the team. Eventually they’d worked their way back to one another as the announcements and general fuss started regarding Prom King and Queen. It came as no surprise to anyone who was named, Stacey Holbrook-popular girl number 1 and Will Brady- popular guy number 1. Jensen gave an exaggerated yawn as cheers rang out around the Sports Hall. Stella looked at him, arching an eyebrow as she sat in the chair next to him round their table, his arm slung casually over the back of her chair. He shrugged and grinned as he watched them both take to the stage, a hush fell over the room. Stacey began gushing into the mic, her words vaguely registered in Jensen’s mind as she squealed about how surprised and honoured she was…bla bla bla.

He wouldn’t have minded either, but in Jake’s eyes, she wasn’t a patch on the girl sat to his right. He moved his hand from the back of Stella’s chair, gently placing it round her shoulders and pulling her into him, pressing a kiss to her temple. She looked at him and he flashed her a wink as he reached for his soda. He took a loud gulp and sat back, and then before he could stop it a huge burp escaped his mouth. Jensen sat stock still as everyone in the hall turned in his direction, accusingly. Stella was sinking lower into her chair, trying to disappear but Jake sat up tall and spun round in his seat as if he too was searching for the culprit.

“Disgusting!” he called out loudly, shaking his head. “Whoever that was should be ashamed of themselves.”

A few titters broke out across the hall and he spotted his Football coach smirking at him as he turned back to look at Stella who had her hand slapped over her forehead.

“You’re a fucking nightmare.” She hissed at him.

“I couldn’t help it!” he whispered back. “Better out than in as my dad always says…” As it turns out that was just one of the 2 reasons Jake found himself having to talk his way out of trouble that night. The second however, Jake was pleased to report was Stella’s fault. He was stood talking a few guys from the soccer team when John Digby, their right-back and captain suddenly nudged Jake.

“What?” Jake asked, looking at him. John nodded over his shoulder and Jake turned to see Stella was in an angry exchange with the captain of the football team. A huge, hulking jock that played quarterback called Brad Kingsley.  He watched for a second, grinning as the huge guy seemed actually quite frightened of Stella who was jabbing him in his chest but then as he spotted Brad’s girlfriend stalking towards them he gave a groan. “Ahh shit. Be right back…”

“Good luck with that!” John shot after him as the team laughed “Your Misssus is fuckin’ scary…”

“Don’t I know it.” Jensen mumbled as he jogged over to where quite a crowd was gathering now, just in time to hear Stell call Brad a fucking asshole. “Hey, hey…” Jensen said gently, grabbing her arm. She turned to look at him and he instantly saw the problem. The front of her dress, over the chest area was soaked.

“He just spilt his drink all over me, and not even a fucking apology!” she seethed.

“It was an accident!” Brad said, his voice loud.

“Fuck you!” Stella snarled and Jensen took a deep breath.

“Stel, babes, come on…” he consoled her a little, and she took one final glare at Brad, before she looked at Jensen, wrenching her arm free and stalked away. He watched her go for a bit before he turned back to Brad, seeing the guy was now cracking his knuckles ominously. What he lacked in brains, which was quite a lot actually- the guy was thick as two short planks- he made up for in brawn and whilst Jensen was more than capable of holding his own in a fight, he really didn’t fancy his chances here. “Brad, look man, I don’t want any trouble…” “I can’t hit women.” Brad shrugged “But I can give you a smack for your girl’s mouth…”

“Come on…you know what they’re like.” Jensen shrugged “Plus its shark week so….hormones…” he smoothed out the bigger man’s jacket before both his hands rest on his upper biceps, slapping them gently before he let go. “She rides the red river and it turns her into a fucking ogre. You wouldn’t really wanna hold that against me would you bro?”

“Suppose not.” Brad mumbled.

“Cheers pal, I owe you.” Jensen slapped his back as he made a hasty retreat, letting the air out of his lungs as he walked.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed with little to no drama and Jensen actually found it to be quite enjoyable. For the first time it dawned on him that this, well this really did signal the end of high-school and in 3 months, just over 12 weeks or so, he and Stella would be off to Norwich to start the ROTC for 4 years. He was looking forward to it- living away from home, the fun of College life whilst training with the Army and most of all having his best friend and girl by his side. Buoyed by the sudden feel good factor, he dragged Stella off to dance with their friends and the pair of them grinned when about 4 songs in the opening bars of Journey “Don’t Stop Believing” hit their ears and everyone on the dance floor gave a loud shriek.

“Well what do you know, they’re playing our song.” Jake grinned as he pulled Stella towards him.

“It’s odds on they’d play this.” She rolled her eyes, grinning as he began to sing in a stupid voice, twirling her around. She watched him as he ran through his usual dance moves to the song…pointing at everyone when he sang the word strangers, arching his hand upwards a little over his head like a rainbow to the word boulevard. By the time the song hit its crescendo their entire group of friends had joined in and Stella shook her head at him as he gave her a wink.

“You’re an idiot…” she said as the song finished and morphed into something by the Backstreet Boys that Jensen couldn’t remember the name of.

“But I’m your idiot, doll.” He grinned and she gave a laugh cocking her head to one side, her arms sliding up round his neck.

“Yeah, yeah you are…”

At that point they were both shoved violently to the side, Jensen grabbing Stella to stop her falling. He spun round, immediately ready to give whoever it was a warning to be careful when his eyes fell on Simon Rogers and Vinnie Foxborough who were both going hell for leather in the middle of the floor, fists flying as people rushed into separate them. With a  groan Jensen turned to Stella who was stood there, the rest of their friends also hanging their heads as she held her hand out, palm up. “Pay up, losers!” she grinned, and Jake snorted as Sally, Ewan, Brady, Mackenzie and Danny all reached into their purses or wallets and slapped five bucks into her hand each. She looked at Jake and he frowned.

“I’m not paying you.” He shook his head.

“Stop being a whiney bitch JJ.” She grinned and he shook his head again.

“I’ll buy you a Big Mac meal on the way home instead.”

Stella looked at him, considering his offer before she grinned “You do know that’s gonna cost you more than five bucks, right?”

Jake shrugged “You’re worth it.”

“Gee, thanks” she snorted.

“What can I say, I’m a romantic…and speaking of which…” he moved closer to her, dropping his head down so his lips were by her ears. “Wanna get out of here? Mom and Dad are out tonight so we can have the place to ourselves for a few hours before they get home.”

Stella turned her head to look at him, and he noticed that her cheeks had flushed a little and she bit her lip shyly before she nodded.

“Yeah, ok.”

Jake smiled, taking a deep breath before he pressed his lips to hers. They made their excuses to their friends, promising to catch up with them all soon and then the two of them made their way hand in hand off the floor, weaving in between people as they headed for the exit.

**** “I think my personal favourite bit was when you called the captain of the football team an asshole.” Jake said as he grabbed Stella’s bag from the trunk of his dad’s car “Good times.” “He deserved it.” She narrowed her eyes.

“And I supposed I deserved the punch he was going to give me for you being a mouthy brat.” Jensen looked at her as she shrugged, grinning.

“Yeah, how did you talk you way out of it anyway?” she asked, taking his hand as they walked down the drive towards the front door.

“Told him it was shark week.” Jake shrugged and Stella stopped dead.

“You did what?”

“You heard me, I blamed your little meltdown on hormones.”

“You are such an asshole!” Stella grit out through her teeth and Jake laughed, turning to face her.

"It was that or he punched me in the mouth, and let’s face it gorgeous, this-."  he waved his hand in a circle round his face, finger pointing towards it"-is too good to ruin"

She looked at him, shaking her head and snorting as he dropped a kiss to her cheek and opened the door. The house was dark and empty as he let Stella in first, where she dropped her shoes which she was carrying in her hand to the floor as Jake followed her into the hall, dumping her bag.

“You want a drink?” Jake asked and Stella turned to him, nodding.

“Yeah”

“A proper one?”

“Dur.”

Jake grinned and he led her down the hall and into the little den where his dad kept the good stuff.  He tossed his jacket over the back of the arm chair, shrugging off his waistcoat and depositing that in the same place. Rolling his shirt sleeves up to get more comfortable, he yanked open the liquor cabinet and blinked when he saw the post it stuck on the front of the bottle of vodka. It was his dad’s handwriting and with a snort he pulled it off and handed it to Stella.

“Don’t even think about it…” she read with a laugh “Fuck he knows us so well.”

“Like he never did it.” Jake grumbled, shoving the bottle back. He stood up and made his way through to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge “Oh come on dad!” he groaned as he saw another note stuck to the beer. He read it and gave a shrug “ok, so apparently this is fine…”

He pulled two out, popped the lids and handed one to Stella. She took a huge pull and let out a groan.

“Not being able to legally drink until 21 sucks “she grumbled, “I mean how can we be old enough to join the army but not consume alcohol?”

“Maybe we should move to Europe babe.” He said as they both dropped onto the sofa. Stella snorted and then sighed.

“We may end up doing.” She tapped her finger nails against the bottle “I mean, who knows where we’re gonna end up.” “Yeah, well we got years to think about that.” Jensen shrugged as he reached for the remote to turn the TV on but stopped abruptly as Stella grabbed his wrist.

“Seriously, the house is ours…and you brought me home early to watch TV?”

“No, I was…just…” he trailed off as she took the bottle off him, placed it on the table and then hitched her dress up slightly so she could straddle him. Jensen swallowed a little as her hands gently copped his face and she kissed him. For reasons which he couldn’t even place himself, because damned they’d done a lot more than simply make out, he was nervous and it showed clearly as Stella pulled back, frowning a little.

“What’s wrong?”

Jake looked at her, blinking in the dim light of the room and shook his head, jerking himself to his senses “Nothing, nothing at all.”

In a flash his lips were back on hers, his arms round her back as he held her close, his tongue snaking into her mouth, tanging with hers. As the kissing grew in intensity, he could feel himself growing aroused and clearly Stel could do as she rotated her hips slightly, grinding down against him and he gave a hiss. His hands moved to the side of her thighs, pushing up her skirt even further, fingers trailing against her skin and she moaned as he gripped her ass, giving a little squeeze. With an easy movement, Jake stood and turned them so she was under him on the couch. His lips moved to her jaw and he trailed hot kisses down her neck to the top of her dress, focussing on that spot on her neck he’d found the first time they’d made out, enjoying the little whimpers she made right by his ear. His hands crept back up her skirt, settling on her hips as her arms wrapped around him, dancing over the top of his shirt. His lips moved back to her mouth and he kissed her again, pushing down against her and Stella gave a soft keen of delight at the contact.  

“Fuck, I love you Stel.” He muttered against her mouth.

“Love you too Jakey.” Her voice was punctuated by a gasp and he pulled back to look at her, her eyes shining.

“Stel, I know…I haven’t asked you if you wanna…you know…” he stumbled over his words and she smiled softly, and cut him off.

“I do.”  She assured him before she pushed her head upwards, lips crashing onto his and her hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it free of his pants. His back muscles twitched as her hands danced over his skin, the sensation of her gently dragging her nails across the base of his spine sent a spike of desire, like a red hot poker through his entire body and he let out a groan.

“Can we go upstairs?” he asked softly.

“Yeah…” she nodded.

Wordlessly he stood up, shifting his pants slightly which were fucking uncomfortable thanks to his now painful erection and grabbing their beers in one hand, he held his other out and pulled her to her feet. He led her out into the hall, up the stairs and across the landing into his room, kicking the door shut with his foot.

He flicked on the lamp on his nightstand, his eyes glancing at the photo of the two of them taken after one of his soccer matches where his cheeks were red and his face was sweaty from the exertion of the game. He loved that snap, it was the final match of the season where they had won the league and the day he’d first told her he’d loved her. Her face had lit up as she’d whispered it back to him, before he’d made it past second base that evening on the chair in a dark corner of the garden, their families milling around elsewhere, completely oblivious.

He set the bottles of beer down and turned to look back at her. She was stood, watching him, biting her lip out of nervous anticipation and suddenly a wave apprehension crashed over him as he started to realise that this was going to happen. The thought of losing his virginity to Stel had never worried him before, hell, they’d done pretty much everything else bar hit the home run to so speak, but for some reason now it seemed like a big deal. He swallowed a little, his mind flicking back to the conversation he’d had with his sister a few days ago. Whilst he and his dad were close- condom conversation proving that- there were something he just didn’t want to ask his old man about, and how to make Stel feel good when he popped her cherry so to speak was one of them. So he’d approached Jane, who for once hadn’t ripped him to shit. She’d told him the first time was gonna be awkward as hell, so he needed to be gentle, get her off in some way before he poked her (Jane’s words, not his) and most importantly he had to make sure she was ready to do it.

Licking his lips he walked back towards her and she stepped closer to him, her eyes locking onto his as his hands fell to her hips and he kissed her again, before his fingers skated up the back of her dress and he found the zipper. With a deep breath, Jensen slid the zipper down her dress causing it to fall forward slightly and he got a glimpse of her breasts, which he had yet to actually see come to think of it, and here they were, clad in a lacy, strapless black bra. He held onto his shoulders and he glanced down, watching her as she stepped out of it, kicking it to the side.

“God you’re beautiful.” He stuttered out and Stella giggled nervously before he kissed her again and pivoted them so he could lay her out on her back on his bed. He crawled up next to her, laying on his side as she tipped her head and he kissed her again, his right hand sliding up and cupping her breast over her bra. Stella arched her back a little and Jensen’s groan caught in his throat as he slid his hand down her bare stomach and gently slipped it into her panties, over her soft curls and felt her slick against his fingers. He started to play with her, the way he’d found out she’d liked and his face watched hers intently as she bit her lip, her eyes falling shut in pleasure. Before long her hips started to move against his hand and he gently moved his wrist, inserting 2 fingers inside her. Her body reacted the way he’d seen before and encouraged he continued his movements. Her hand moved up to grab at his hair, pulling him down to kiss him and before long she was crying out, her hand wrapping around his wrist as her walls fluttered around his fingers as she came.

Jensen was actively now trying not to blow his load in his pants as he watched his girl ride out her orgasm. His eyes squinted slightly as he pressed his forehead to hers, the sticky fingers from her core resting on her hip. After a moment or two that same hand moved up her side and under her back, his eyes closed as he reached her bra.

His fingers paused on the clasp and he looked at her, remembering his sisters words and he kissed her again, his head pressing against hers.

“Please tell me you want this” he said, his voice a nervous plea.

“Yeah, yeah I do…” she nodded.

“Good, me too…ok...that’s good” he smiled against her lips as his fingers moved to her clasp. He’d read there was a technique to flicking it open with a snap of your thumb and finger, but right now that really wasn’t’ happening. Shifting slightly he slid his other arm underneath her as she moved her shoulders slightly to allow him to get both hands on it, but he was still struggling, his fingers slipping against the clasp.

“Stell.” He whispered and she looked at him.

“What?”

“I'm nervous” he lightly chuckled. She smiled, and bit her lip.

“Me too.” She sat up, “Here…” her arms moved behind her and she undid her bra, tossing it to the side as it fell forward. Jake watched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, giving an involuntary gasp almost as he saw her bare breasts for the first time.

Her fingers gently undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and Jensen gently slid down, taking her lace panties with him before he stood up, dispensing of the rest of his clothes, his eyes roving over her bare form as she lay on the bed, watching him. Fuck, the sight of her laying there completely naked was sending him into overdrive so as quickly as he could he moved and reached into the drawer on his night stand for the box of condoms he’d bought especially. His fingers slipped a little as he tore the foil packet open, his hand shaking as he knelt on the bed between her legs, rolling it down over his shaft. It was awkward, and he was starting to get a little bit het up when Stella put a hand over his and he glanced up at her knowing full well she could read him, she always could. She guided his hand down and once he was sheathed he moved, his hands either side of her shoulders as he positioned himself.

With as gently a movement as he could, he worked his way gently into her letting out a loud groan, and her breath hitched a little. The sensation of being buried in her for the first time washed over him, her tight warmth hugging his cock and his arms gave way causing him to drop to his elbows. Luckily he caught himself in time, and he shifted a little to support his weight on his forearms so he didn’t crush her.

“You ok?” she asked softly. Every muscle in his body was tense and she could clearly feel it as he lay over her.

“Yeah.” He panted. “You?” “I’m good…” there was a little pause and she placed her hand on the bottom of his back, applying a little pressure with her palm, almost as if she was trying to pull him towards her "Jakey, you gotta move, please baby..."

So he did. He started thrusting. Slowly at first, picking up the pace a little as he gained confidence. Her hands slipped up his back and came to rest as her arms hooked under his, palms flat on the back of his shoulders.

Jensen watched her carefully as he continued his movements, his eyes locked onto hers. She looked straight back at him as her body gently moved with each thrust he made. He leaned down to kiss her, and it's was a little sloppy because his brain and body were that awash with this absolute new sensation of pleasure that he was struggling to function or focus on much at the moment. He broke the kiss, dropping his forehead to hers, his mouth slack as the heat tightened in his belly and he knew it wasn’t going to be long before he came.

"Stel, I'm not...I'm not gonna..." he started to explain, almost apologies even but she cut him off.

"It's ok,..." she nudged his nose with hers "Let me see you..."

He raised his head and she looked straight at him, and with a few more little thrusts he was gone, tipping over the edge with a little grunt and a cry of her name. As the surge of pleasure washed over him he pitched forward, burying his face into her neck, breathing deeply as the world span around him, the blood pounding in his ears was almost deafening.

Stella’s hands gently slid up his back, scratching at that spot on the nape of his neck, softly tangling in his hair.

"You ok, did I hurt you?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her.

"You'd never hurt me Jake."

“You’d never hurt me Jake…”

Those words echoed round Jensen’s brain and with a groan he rolled onto his back as sleep persistently evaded him. That was one trip down memory lane he hadn’t needed, more so because the words were fucking bullshit. He had hurt her, the one thing he'd always sworn never to do. That night, their first time had been perfect, and whilst it had been awkward as hell and he’d lasted all of 5 minutes, it had been special because they’d loved one another.

Jensen turned his head to see Britney, the dark haired friend of the nurse he’d met in the bar the other night sleeping, next to him and he lay back with his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling. Seeing Stella before had riled him enough to call the woman and pick her up from work after her shift ended at midnight. A bottle of wine and few shots of tequila later their clothes had ended up strewn all over his apartment and, well, here she was, fast asleep next to him.

It hadn’t been a bad fuck. Jensen had the impression Britney was after a release as much as he had been and it had shown, neither of them wasting any time on foreplay. But as he lay there he was kind of ashamed to admit he missed the cuddling that Stella would always seek out after.

With another sigh he hauled himself out of bed, located his boxers and headed to his kitchen for some water. He drained a glass before grabbing a packet of advil, tossing 2 down and then draining another glass before he wandered back into the bedroom, dropping back down next to his sleeping guest. He turned himself onto his side, his back facing her and closed his eyes willing sleep to come for him.

****

Not wanting to be a total Douchebag, Jake at least made Britney some breakfast the next morning before he told her he really needed to get ready to work. She smiled at him, understanding totally she was being dismissed and hopped off the stool by the breakfast bar, locating her clothing. He watched her go, noticing the way her hips swayed underneath his t-shirt was nothing like as arousing as how Stella’s did, before he dropped the dishes into the sink shaking his head.

Once she was ready, Jake opened the door to the landing and she turned to face him. “Look, I know this was probably a one- time thing but…”

At that point Stella’s door opened and Jake’s eyes flicked to her over Britney’s shoulder as she stopped dead and looked at him, then the woman in front of him, before she gave a snort and a shake of her head, turning to lock her door. Jensen felt that stupid, child inside him stir and he turned to Britney shaking his head.

“No, that’s…” he said, stopping her, his voice loud enough to carry across the landing “I’d like to take you out. Do it properly next time?”

“Really?” Britney almost squealed and threw her arms round him. “That’s…yeah, I’d love that Jensen.”

“Great, I’ll call.” He smiled, leaning down to give her a peck on the lips. She pulled back, pinched his cheek and then headed for the elevator

“Didn’t know Mc Donald’s dealt in brunettes.” Stella said dryly, arching an eyebrow.

Jensen shrugged and grinned “Let’s just say it was a different kinda drive through…”

Stella wrinkled her nose “That’s gross.”

Jensen snorted, and watched as she moved towards the elevator before she stopped and instead turned towards the stairs. He watched her go, and no sooner had the stairway door shut the elevator arrived.

“Bye!” Britney called, blowing him a kiss. Jensen smiled and then turned back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him, banging his head back against the wood. What the fuck had he just done? Something that was meant as a quick bang one night had suddenly morphed into him taking the girl on a date?

Could always just change your number?

No point…she knows where you live.

Move apartments?

Little dramatic, all things considered don’t you think?

Maybe you should give the girl a chance? I mean, after all, Stella’s taken one on Agent Dick Name…

Yeah. That was sensible, and she hadn’t been a bad lay after all.

With a decisive nod he pushed himself off the door and headed for the shower.

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #the losers #the losers fan fic

[impala-dreamer]

Here it is folks! Check out these wonderful fics and show the writers some love! Thank you to everyone for joining in my very first challenge!

the awesomeness in no particular order:

Rub-A-Dub-Dub, Three Children In The Tub by @jpadjackles 

Daddy!Sam x Reader, Dean x OFC(Sarah) -- Fluff

The beginning, middle, and end by @mamaredd123

Dean x Reader -- Fluff, Smut, Angst

Sacrifice by @winchestersmolder 

Sis!Reader x Crowley (Sort Of) -- Angst

Oh, Mr. Brady by  @l8nitl0vr

John x Reader -- Frisky Fluff

That’s kind of you to say, I’ve always thought of myself as classic as well by @supernatural-girl97

Dean x Reader -- NSFW

Alcoholic Afternoon by @too-much-winchester 

Jared x Reader -- Fluff

Wherever You Are by @atc74

Dean x Donna -- Fluff

Adventures in Dating by @chelsea072498

Dean x Reader -- Crack Fluff

Dangerous Woman by @roxy-davenport 

Crowley x Reader -- NSFW 

I Have An Idea  by @loveitsallineed 

Dean, Charlie (talk of Destiel) -- Fluff

Sam Drabble by @itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps

Sam x Reader -- Fluff

Cooped Up by @percussiongirl2017

Dean x Reader -- Fluff

Scrambled by @thegreatficmaster

John x Male Reader -- Crack Fluff

Haunted Mansion by @chaos-and-the-calm67 

Dean x Reader -- Angst Fluff

Play With Me by @babypieandwhiskey

Sam x Reader -- NSFW

This was his story. Shortened. by @fangirl-faye

Sabriel -- Fluff

Cold Woman by @jotink78 

Sam x Reader -- Fluff

The Town Protector by @idreamofhazel

Sam, Dean, Reader -- Crack Fluff

Revelations by @yellowtheremarvelfan 

Dean x Reader -- Fluff

I’ll Always Stay by @inmysparetime0

Dean x Reader -- Fluff

First Date by @wayward-mirage

Cas x Reader -- Fluff

Thanks again to all you wonderful writers! Let’s go show them some love people!

#beka's winchester bunch challenge #challenge entries #challenge masterlist

[lostloveletters]

Little Wing (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Kate "Woody" Woodward and John Brady have it bad for each other, except Woody's convinced he doesn't care for her and Brady's convinced he messed up his shot with her. They prove each other wrong.

Note: Woody and Brady’s first kiss fic yay🤭 Title comes from the Jimi Hendrix song (which is on Woody’s playlist).  I know I keep saying this, but I’m so overwhelmed with the response to Woody/Brady, I didn’t expect it at all, and it means so much to me🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies. Suggestive to a point, but not explicit. Light miscommunication plotline.

Darla had been the one who pointed it out. The Texan wasn’t one for biting her tongue, and expressed earlier that day while they were eating lunch with Meg that John Brady wasn’t making himself scarce around the hardstand, or the hangar. Wherever that downed plane of his was while they were working on it, he’d inevitably show up at some point. 

“‘S like he don’t think we can fix a damn plane,” Darla said through a mouthful of toast, stale from that morning’s breakfast. The guys in the kitchen knew the three of them weren’t ones to pass up food just because it was a few hours old.

“I got the same thing at my pop’s shop back home. These fellas would bring in their cars and tell ‘im they didn’t want me workin’ on them. Half of ‘em didn’t even know how to change a tire,” Meg agreed, her thick Boston accent making Woody have to strain to understand what she was saying sometimes.

Darla shook her head. “Some ‘a these flyboys, I swear to god they got more swagger than sense.”

Woody didn’t want to tell them that Brady’s frequenting their work area might have coincided with the one day he showed up to check on how things were going, and she apparently struck a nerve by trying to be nice—something she was rusty at despite her best efforts. So he’d hang around and watch, sometimes not saying very much at all while puffing away at his pipe. Made her feel tantalizingly scrutinized beneath his stormy gaze.

His crew were all nice enough guys. A little rowdy sometimes, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Still, their pilot’s recent behavior made it tough for her to shake the feeling that he wasn’t all that fond of her. A damn shame, because she had it bad for him. Figured it was the first time she was into a guy who was decent.

Earlier that week, Hambone waited out the English rain in the hangar with her, telling her what he and the rest of them did before the war. Mostly recent high school graduates or everyday working guys. She didn’t find it surprising that the pilot had a degree, but almost couldn’t believe her ears when Hambone told her that Brady was a musician before the war. If anyone deserved to walk around with the swagger most of the pilots did, it was Brady, in her opinion, yet to her, he seemed level-headed and reserved. 

She had left lunch with Darla and Meg that afternoon with a newfound resolve to win Brady over somehow. If not for her own sake, then to at least not make her own faux pas the other girls’ problem.

Her quip to Holly about John Brady and his cockpit was mostly for her best friend’s amusement. Anything in her past she’d remotely consider a relationship boiled down to little more than sex. Never exclusive, and never all that satisfying, either. 

Woody nearly scoffed at herself. As if he’d want anything to do with a woman like her.

“Evening, Lieutenant,” she said as he walked up.

He sighed, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “You don’t have to be so formal, Woody. It’s just us out here.”

“Bucky and Holly are listening to the Yankees at the Nationals.” She nodded in the direction of the jeep in the distance. “They made some bet on it.”

“I hardly think that counts considering how far they are.”

She hesitated. “If you say so.” Stopped herself from adding ‘sir’ at the end. 

The following ten or so minutes were all hers. Pointed out every inch of the plane that’d been worked on since he last came by. Had an answer for all of his questions or concerns. She didn’t miss a single detail, wanting him to know yes, she was serious, and yes, she could fix a damn plane. Got the same thrill she did when she’d tell people how she souped up their cars to race, watching the appreciation and at times disbelief for her work on their face.

“Still got some kinks to work out, but it should be coming along a lot quicker now,” she said.

“You did all of that since yesterday?”

“I can’t take all the credit. Darla and Meg helped out, too.”

He cracked a grin, his pipe between his teeth. “You’re pretty damn good, Woody.”

She smiled. Her heart might’ve skipped a beat or two. “Thank you.”

“You must’ve been a mechanic before this, huh?”

“Here and there,” she said. Eager to steer the conversation away from herself, she quickly added, “You’re a musician, aren’t you?”

“I am. I got my degree in music, too.”

“Let me guess what you play…” She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t strike me as a tuba man.”

The slightest smile worked its way onto his face. “No, I’m not.”

“Way too smart to be playing the triangle.”

“Hey, don’t count out the triangle.”

“You’re pulling my leg!” She laughed, silently proud of herself for not saying 'You're fucking with me' which otherwise would've been her reflexive response. “Alright, I’m gonna make my real guess now.” She pursed her lips as she considered her options. “Clarinet?”

He nodded. “And saxophone.”

“Both? Oh, I’d love to hear you play sometime,” she said. “Either. Whichever one you like best.”

“I play with the band in the officer’s club once in a while. You should come by. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there.”

“I’m not an officer.”

“I’ll make sure no one kicks you out.”

“Are you offering to be my personal muscle?” she half-joked. 

He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think you need it, but sure.”

“Thanks, John,” she said. “Unless you prefer Jack? Or just John?”

“What do you think suits me?�� he asked.

“Well, I like Johnny, if you’re really asking.” She smiled like she was letting him in on a secret, like she knew all along he’d be Johnny to her. 

It was her eyes that got him, though. The same green he saw when someone else made her laugh or how just about everyone seemed to have some anecdote about Woody—how she helped them out or told a joke that was just the thing to lift their spirits.  But for all of the stories about Woody, the undertones of admiration or outright expressions of desire within them, nobody had one like his. Kissed his cheek without hesitation. Looked at him with those forest green eyes he could lose a hundred years in. Just when he was sure he had his chance and missed it, he was Johnny, and instead of getting lost in that forest, he knew exactly where he was going, how to push his way through and find her.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, staring above them and shaking her head. 

Woody grabbed a screwdriver and kicked over a wooden milk crate that had seen better days. She tentatively placed her boot on it, pressing down a moment before stepping up.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t reach otherwise.”

“That thing’s about as flimsy as cardboard,” he said, setting his pipe aside. “You’ll break your neck.” His strong hands were on her hips before he finished speaking. Held her steady as she stood on top of the crate.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. 

She worked in silence until she stood on her toes, and the crate wobbled ominously beneath her. “I can’t see. Can you get me a flashlight and—”

He squeezed her hips in frustration. “Woody, just do it tomorrow. It’s not worth getting hurt over.”

“Help me down, Johnny?” she asked, turning slightly in his hold, her eyes flashed an unmistakable desire that nearly sent him to his knees.

He kept one hand on her waist, the other holding her free hand as she stepped down from the crate. A flash of red spread across her cheeks, and he was drawn in closer like a moth to flame, following her to the nearby toolbox where she put the screwdriver back in place, double-checking the contents before locking it up for the night.

“You got something…” His thumb brushed just below her lip. They stared at each other in silence, voice caught in his throat before he closed the gap between them, cradling her chin in his hand as he kissed her. 

A shock to her system, there was something uniquely vulgar in his tenderness. Past lips on her own had been rough and selfish, part of a song and dance she grew tired of by the time she was nineteen. To be kissed with such care at twenty-three made her skin burn for more. 

She grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. Threatened to lose herself in the embrace, almost unsure of where Woody ended and John began. 

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. She shuddered when he released it and pressed a hungry kiss to his lips, her want betraying her with a soft whimper. 

She felt him pulling away and thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. “Johnny, don’t go. Not yet,” she whispered pleadingly, raking her fingers through his hair.

It didn’t take much else for him to give in, losing himself in that forest in her eyes. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Being good,” she answered, “and I was getting better at that until you got here not even an hour ago.”

He smiled, eyes glistening almost mischievously. “Well, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Am I your sweetheart?”

“If you want to be.”

She smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else’s,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Me either.”

#john brady x oc #john brady x ofc #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air x ofc #masters of the air #john brady #mota #mota x oc #mota fanfic #ch: woody

[lostloveletters]

Leave a Tender Moment Alone (John Brady x OFC)

Summary: Private Kate Woodward and Lieutenant John Brady are reluctant to wear their hearts on their sleeves, but they're each starting to wonder if maybe they should.

Word count: 1k

Note: Meet Woody! Title comes from the Billy Joel song. For a little bit of context, this takes place before Damn Yankees, but you don't need to read that to understand what's going on in this fic. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Warnings: Light period-typical misogyny. Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies.

Private Kate Woodward had a child clinging to her leg, another hanging onto her back, both attached to her like little monkeys. 

The village kids were always in the mechanics’ orbit. Woody wanted to be a good role model for them, even if she didn’t quite know what that looked like. She wasn’t exactly keen to admit it to anyone except Holly, but offering her expertise as a mechanic to the WAC wasn’t entirely out of love for country.

After years of wandering aimlessly up and down the West Coast, she woke up one morning and realized she didn’t like her friends (if she could even call them that), working almost exclusively on stolen cars because she couldn’t hold down a legitimate mechanic job, and especially not the type of person she’d become. So she signed up, expecting to be working on jeeps or trucks, but instead found herself applying her knowledge to planes. 

Her first commanding officer, Lieutenant Deanna Seberg from Glendale, designated her Woody to differentiate her from the dozen or so Catherines and Kathleens who used Kate as a nickname.

She liked being Woody. Woody was tough and competent yet approachable, likable, even. She tried to be good. Helpful but not too imposing. Kept her cursing to a minimum. Checked her temper. Had to. She was part of something bigger than herself, bigger than any of them could have ever conceived of. Finally found a way out through it. She couldn’t afford to fuck it up.

While the handful of other mechanic girls had gotten their experience through family garages or the odd trade school, they accepted her claim that hers came from messing around with friends’ cars. She was good at what she did. No need to push it. 

Thankfully, Kenny had their backs, the young Arkansan drawling that where he came from, women weren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty to get the job done by the end of the day, whatever it may be. If that also involved entertaining English laborers’ kids, fascinated by Americans and their planes, she’d try her damnedest.

“Miss Woody!” Billy shouted, making a running start toward her. 

“Wait!” she yelled. “I can’t—“

Just before impact, which would have surely sent her directly to the ground with three children in tow, Billy was scooped up in Lieutenant John Brady’s arms. 

“You could take off with that speed, buddy,” he said, flying the boy around for a moment before setting him on his feet and ruffling his hair.

Woody smiled as the other two children climbed off of her. “You saved the day, Lieutenant.”

“Miss Woody, now you’ve got to give the hero a kiss!” Sarah, the young girl who’d been hanging off her back exclaimed with a flourish of her hands. “That’s what happens in the stories.”

Brady shook his head. “Miss Woody doesn’t have to—“

Woody gave him a quick peck on the cheek, their small audience of Billy, Sammy, and Sarah giggling and cheering in delight. “Why don’t you kids go make some trouble for Mr. Kenny?”

The children ran off, arms spread out wide as they imitated planes themselves. God, had she ever been that carefree as a kid?

Brady cleared his throat. “I came by to see how the fort’s doing.”

“And just in time. That would’ve been a hell of a tumble if it weren’t for you,” she said.

“You’re great with those kids.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I try to be the kind of adult I wish I had around when I was their age, you know?”

“That’s good of you.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you what we’ve done so far.”

He stuck close to her as they made their way around the damaged plane, Woody taking care to let him know exactly what had been fixed so far and where they were having a bit of trouble. Shuffled a little closer to her when she pointed at one of the engines.

He smelled nice, a reprieve from the mix of fuel, motor oil, and sweat. Not to mention the occasional whiff of cow manure drifting through the air on a strong breeze. For a moment, she envisioned her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck while something soft and slow filled the room. Wondered how he’d hold her.

Shit. Stop daydreaming.

She glanced at him every so often. His expression didn’t change much. Brows furrowed, handsome face etched with concern as he scrutinized the state of his plane.

“Really, I’ve seen worse,” she said.

He scoffed. “That’s reassuring.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

Certainly wasn’t the first plane he crash-landed, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he could practically hear his mother’s voice, ‘John Brady, I did not raise you to speak to young ladies that way.’ Except he’d hardly consider Woody a young lady. She was a mechanic with a mouth when she got a few beers in her. More rough-and-tumble than any of the girls he grew up with.

Everyone seemed to like her, though. Hell, he sure did. Hambone already made a stupid comment about how he should ‘ask Woody to kiss it better’ when his fort, so comically named Brady’s Crash Wagon, went up in smoke. Probably why it smarted to feel like she pitied him or something.

Smarted worse to see the way her lips pressed in a thin line. Kept her gaze anywhere but him.

“Kenny told me you stay out here late working on it. Thank you,” he said, a stubborn substitution for an apology. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence. 

Wasn’t sure what else he could say, and she was doing everything but telling him to buzz off. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Woody.”

She nodded. “See you around, sir.”

He tried not to kick himself too much as he walked off, not entirely sure where he was going.  

“Hey Lieutenant!” Woody shouted when there was a few yards of distance between them.

He stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at her. “What is it?”

“You got something—“ She gestured to her own cheek.

He wiped the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him and fought back a smile at the grease smudged on his fingertips.

#john brady x oc #john brady x ofc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #john brady #masters of the air x ofc #mota x oc #mota #mota x ofc #mota fanfic #hbo war fanfic #hbo war #ch: woody #let's hear it for emotional constipation and mutual pining

[lostloveletters]

With a Rose Between Your Teeth (Is That Blood in Your Mouth for Me?) [John Brady x OC]

Note: This is an extremely short blurb? Snippet? Drabble? That I wrote quickly for all the Woody/Brady babes while I finish up the longer fic that I'll probably post tonight. (AO3 link)

Word count: 150

Warnings: Depictions of blood, implied bar fight.

She practically had to wrestle him away from the chaos and into the bathroom. A cramped space with peeling paint and a naked lightbulb that almost didn’t let her close the door behind them until she forced it shut.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

Water poured freely from the faucet. She watched as he splashed some in his mouth, swishing it between puffed up cheeks. 

“People might think we’re in love or something.”

He spit into the sink. Water pink with blood pooled at the rusty drain. It dripped from his chin as he stared her down with blown out pupils, reflecting her own unspoken desire. “We are.”

She reached out and wiped his chin with the pad of her thumb. Glanced at the glistening residue on her finger before sticking it in her mouth, letting the faint coppery taste settle sweetly on her tongue. 

“Yeah. We are.”

#john brady x oc #john brady x ofc #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air x ofc #mota x oc #john brady #masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: woody

[lostloveletters]

Damn Yankees (Bucky Egan x OFC)

Summary: The Great American Pastime puts Sergeant Holly Dean and Major Bucky Egan’s friendship to the test when her struggling Nationals play yet another game against his beloved Yankees.

Note: I introduce you to Miss Thing herself. By the way, the Yankees and the Nationals (also interchangeably referred to as The Senators back then) played 8 or so games against each other in mid-to-late June 1943, which I don’t think is a point of accuracy anyone cares that much about. Anyway, do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies. Internalized thoughts about death and loss. Holly and Bucky are extremely annoying about baseball so if that’s not your thing…

Holly didn’t flinch when the door to the Air Exec office abruptly opened, and she didn’t have to look up from her typewriter to see who pulled up a chair in front of her desk and made himself comfortable.

“Morning, Bucky,” she said.

“It’s a good morning to be a Yankees fan, Holly.”

The first time Major John Egan walked through the office door, restlessness radiated off of him. Holly didn’t understand why he was assigned to Air Exec in the first place. He didn’t seem to either, but he gravitated toward her, initially amazed at how quickly she could type. When the novelty of that wore off, her feverish devotion to the Washington Nationals made him hang around anyway. 

“You’re not even from New York."

“Sure, but who doesn’t love a team that wins?”

She bristled at his gloating. “Being a Nats fan builds character.”

“You know what they say about Washington, first in war, first in peace, and last in the American League.” 

“We’re second this year,” she reminded him. 

Mostly because all of the good baseball players enlisted, including Bucky’s hero Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio, who had enlisted the USAAF earlier that spring. Bucky hoped he’d get assigned to Thorpe Abbotts at some point. Holly figured he’d stay stateside as a fitness instructor.

“Behind the Yankees,” he said.

“We’ll see after tonight’s game.”

“We’ve been wiping the floor with you.”

She scoffed. “Wiping the floor? It’s been pretty even wins.”

“You tell yourself that.”

“Well, we’re gonna win tonight.”

“Wanna bet?” he asked.

The incessant clicking from her typewriter stopped as she lifted her gaze to him. “When the Nationals win tonight, you have to do all of my filing tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He rapped his knuckles against the top of her desk as he considered his wager. “When the Yankees win tonight, you’ll do as much of my paperwork as I can get away with giving you tomorrow.”

Holly stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

Bucky gave it a firm shake. “Looking forward to my day off.”

“I’ll bring a radio to the hardstand tonight. Woody’s gonna be working late on Brady’s fort, so you can eat your words when no one else is around.”

“More like you’ll want Woody to tell you a joke to cheer you up when the Nationals lose again.”

Easy-going Woody was the perfect chaperone. Otherwise unnecessary, considering Holly and Bucky were both adults, but Holly quickly learned that just about everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had an opinion as to what constituted acceptable behavior between a man and a woman. She already had enough people talking about her, anyway.

Colonel Huglin approached, making a beeline for Bucky.

Holly resumed her typing without missing a beat, keys clicking along with the others in the room. “Good morning, Colonel,” Holly greeted.

“Good morning, Sergeant Dean,” he said, kindly enough. “Major Egan, I need to speak with you in my office.”

“‘Course, Colonel.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Major,” Holly said.

Bucky smiled, giving her a nod. “Sure will, Sarge.”

The game was technically at one in the afternoon on the East Coast, but the time difference made it a night game for those listening across the ocean. Unless Bucky got held up by Huglin, she knew he’d be there. He practically had the Yankees’ schedule memorized. 

——

The summer sun wasn’t close to setting by the time the game crept up and Holly made her way to the hardstand. She kept the portable radio tucked securely under her arm while she walked. Silently prayed she wouldn’t somehow trip on the way and smash the radio to pieces just because she wanted to listen to a baseball game.

Woody waved at her in the distance, arm sweeping excitedly through the air. 

“I haven’t seen you all day!” Holly shouted.

“Too long to go without seeing the likes of you!” Woody yelled back.

Woody, of course, being Private Kate Woodward, part of Ken Lemmons’ ground crew and her best friend on base, probably in general, the more she thought about it. Blonde hair in twin braids, green eyes that glistened with determination, grease smudged on her face, and a wrench in hand, Woody was practically the poster girl for the fearless wartime woman, in Holly’s biased opinion.

“What brings you to my humble hardstand?”

“Bucky and I are gonna listen to the Nationals-Yankees game. He has to do my filing tomorrow if the Nats win,” Holly said. 

Woody laughed. “Good luck.” She scratched her forehead, marking her face with another streak of grease. “Just so you know, Brady might be coming out here later.”

“Checking on his fort?”

“I think he doesn’t trust me or something. He’s been coming around almost every day to see how the repairs are going,” Woody said. “I’m certainly not complaining about his company, though.”

“I’m sure.”

“Maybe one of these days he’ll give me a personal tour of his cockpit.”

Holly choked out a laugh, covering her mouth with her free hand. “Woody!”

“Get your head out of the gutter. I’m strictly talking planes here.” Woody grinned. “Your Yankee’s pulling up.”

Bucky parked the jeep next to the women, raising an eyebrow at Holly’s attempts to stifle her giggles. She handed him the radio as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hey Woody, how’s it going?” Bucky asked.

“It’s going, Major.”

He nodded toward the plane in question. “Everything coming along okay?”

“Just like Kenny said, it looks a lot worse than it is. It’ll be back in the air in no time.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less from you guys.”

She shook her head, an amused smile on her face. “I oughta get back to it. You have fun doing Holly’s filing tomorrow.”

“Hey, I thought we were friends!” Bucky shouted as Woody jogged away, leaving them to listen to the game. 

Holly took the radio from Bucky, setting it on her lap. “I’ve used this one before,” she said. “It should pick up the station well enough.”

“How’d you get that out here?”

“Said it was your orders.” She smiled, tuning the radio until the boisterous announcer’s voice emerged from the speaker and nearly drowned out Bucky’s laughter. 

“It’s a beautiful afternoon here in the nation’s capital folks! We’ve got the New York Yankees in DC up against the Nationals at Griffith Stadium. Now, the Nats have been down the past two games, but we’re hoping they’ll be able to rally this time around—”

“Is Early the starting catcher?”

“Yeah, pretty sure he is.”

“There’s a National I like.”

“‘Cause he’s the only person who might be chattier than you.”

“It’s one hell of a distraction strategy.”

“You’d know,” she joked, lightly elbowing him in the side.

Jake Early was one of Holly’s favorite players on the Nationals. Not a great hitter, but one hell of a catcher who took to imitating radio announcers and auctioneers or even singing to throw off opposing batters. It was one of the highlights of watching a Nats game in person, in her opinion.

“Have you ever been to a Yankees game?” she asked.

He nodded. “A couple. Listening on the radio is one thing, but seeing them in action? I felt like I got struck by lightning. How about you?”

“I went to a few Nats games every season growing up, but Stan and I went on a lot of dates to home games. One time he nearly broke his hand catching a ball that got hit into our section.”

Bucky shook his head. “What a souvenir, though.”

He knew about Stan. Everyone did. Bucky had the sense to not walk on eggshells if she brought him up. Holly had taken the news better than most people expected. She and Stan had a long discussion about it before he shipped out. Allowed herself to cry at night for a week or so afterward, but pulled herself together and pushed forward. At least, she tried to.

Every now and then, her sailor’s bloated corpse would inevitably be dredged up for curious newcomers to Thorpe Abbotts. Her ears rang with the whispers, always some variation of, ‘Her fiance—Navy, I think—yeah, at Midway—I know—poor girl.’ Stanley Conway’s ghost did little more than serve as an explanation to strangers as to why his former fiance could be…weird was the nicest way someone put it, though a plethora of less than complimentary adjectives had been applied to her and her odd behavior over the past year.

But Bucky liked her. Hung around her even when he wasn’t working in the office. Sometimes her melancholy made him do more of the heavy lifting conversationally. If he minded, he never told her. His friendship made it tough for her to remember to refer to him as Major Egan and not just Bucky, sometimes. Stan would be proud of this Holly, though, the one who made stupid bets on baseball games with an officer. 

Bucky took out his flask, taking a swig before offering it to her. She regretted how quickly she accepted, her throat burning as she shoved it back in his hands.

“What is that?” she hissed.

“Whiskey.”

“That’s not whiskey.” She coughed. “You could put that in the gas tank and drive into town with it.”

“You’ve got the taste of a sailor, that’s what the issue here is. Should’ve joined the WAVES if you wanted rum.”

“I was going to. Stan said he didn’t think it’d be a good idea for us to be in the same branch and all that,” she said. “I kinda wish I had. The Service League is almost better than the Majors right now, especially the Navy league since they got Ted Williams.”

He balked. “You sound just like Crank! And DiMaggio’s in the Army league—he’s one of us!”

“So what? If it’s about who’s the best, Crank’s got a point, Williams can bat 400 no sweat.”

“DiMaggio did during his ‘41 streak.”

“Yeah, during his streak. Williams ended the whole ‘41 season with 406.”

“I was gonna be nice and drive you back after the Nats lose. You can walk, toots,” he half-joked.

“Woody can drive me,” she said, turning to glance behind her. Between the dusk and distance, she couldn’t tell if Brady had made his way out there yet. “I’m staying out here with her, anyway.”

“Want me to hang around?”

“If you want.”

“I’m asking what you want.”

She hummed, slouching back in her seat, a far away expression on her face. “I want the Nats to win.”

Bucky slouched against her, shoulder-to-shoulder. Glanced between her face and the radio a few times, hoping the Nationals would pull off something big for her.

He didn’t pry for details. Wasn’t quite sure how to ask her about it. Part of him was too afraid to know. He was afraid of a lot of things he’d never admit, but the place Holly drifted off to terrified him. So he took it upon himself to get her out of there. He talked about the game. And how he won the bicycles for Buck. And that he was just kidding when he said he wouldn’t drive her back to the womens’ barracks—couldn’t leave her and Woody out by themselves, after all.

Bucky didn't know how much time had passed before Holly finally spoke again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He blinked. “For what?”

“You know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I mean, the Yankees are down bad, and I’m having a ball,” he said. “So you’re apologizing for nothing, doll.” 

He felt like someone poured club soda over his brain when she smiled, brown eyes glimmering gold. His gaze fell to her lips, his tongue darting out between his own for a moment. His shadow fell over her like a blanket as he leaned closer.

“And it’s strike three, you’re out for the Yankees in the top of the ninth!” The announcer’s voice blared through the radio, nearly making him jump in his seat. “That’s the game folks! The Washington Nationals win on their home turf against the New York Yankees—“

“We won! Oh my god, we won!” Holly sat up, nearly knocking the radio off of her lap in her excitement. She landed a few playful punches on his arm. “Take that, Egan!”

He rolled his eyes, smiling nevertheless. “It’s a good thing the Nats don’t win more often, because you’re the sorest winner I’ve ever met.”

“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. That’s what I’m hearing.”

“Hey, I’m a man of my word. I’ll do your filing tomorrow,” he said, bringing his flask to his lips. “Damn Yankees.”

#bucky egan x oc #bucky egan x ofc #bucky egan #john egan #john egan x oc #john egan x ofc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air x ofc #mota x oc #mota x ofc #mota fanfic #hbo war fanfic #hbo war #ch: holly

[holylulusworld]

The preacher’s daughter – forever and always

Summary: Always the good girl, always the saint, you meet someone from your past leading you down the road of temptation.  

Sequel to The preacher’s daughter    & The preacher’s daughter – On the run

Pairing: Biker!Dean x Preacher!Daughter

Characters: John Winchester, Rufus Turner, Ellen Harvelle, Pastor Jim, Bobby Singer, Sam Winchester, Carson Brady, Ofc's

Warnings: angst, language, fingering, mentions of arranged marriage, virgin reader, smut, protected sex, oral (female receiving), slow sex, gentle Dean even though he’s a rough biker

A/N:  Part 3/3

Words: 3,8+ k

A/N2: Lyrics by Dusty Springfield ‘Son of a preacher man’ (did i just get an inspiration for another story?)

Watching your father and Brady’s rush toward their car Jim calls his friend. He cannot let anyone destroy your and Dean’s happiness. 

“John, we’ve got a problem. Y/F/N is out for blood and I am afraid it is your son’s. I will meet up with you at our usual spot. Maybe that stubborn man will follow me and leave the couple alone long enough…”

“Let me just,” Dean smirks when he picks you up in bridal style to carry you over the threshold, “bring my beautiful bride inside before I hide the car deeper down the path.”

“That’s a beautiful cabin Dean,” looking around the large but well-hidden cabin you smile. “I always imagined spending my vacations at a place like this.”

“Bobby and Rufus both built the hut,” explaining his father’s friends built the hut for their ‘wifeless’ weekends Dean carries you over the threshold. He's smiling wildly when he places you carefully on the couch.

“Stay here, I’ll get the bags. Ellen and the girls prepared the hut. We got food, and everything we will need until Jim got the license.” 

Pecking your lips Dean smirks when you wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. “Just a minute, sweetheart. I swear I’ll kiss you all over.”

“I see you around Mr. Winchester,” smirking you tug at Dean’s tie. “Did I tell you that you look good in a suit.”

“Well, Mrs. Winchester, if you want me to,” he kisses you again, soft, slow, “I’ll wear a suit for you more often.”

Dean came back with the bags minutes later, exclaiming he will fly with you to France for honeymoon.

While you got comfortable on your husband’s demand Dean lit candles, opened the bottle of champagne John gave him, and played smooth music.

“Shit, you are so beautiful, Y/N,” Dean holds out his hand, a soft smile on his lips, “May I ask for this dance?” giggling you take his offered hand. 

Slowly swaying you to the music Dean smiles when you lean your head against his shoulder. He hums the songs for you, holding you in his arms. “I have to admit, I am an awful dancer.”

“You are a great dancer, Dean,” you hide he stepped onto your foot more than once within the last minutes. “I could dance with you for the whole night.”

“Your toes will be black and blue if we do so,” laughing Dean twirls you around, grinning as you squeal when he grabs your waist to pick you up, holding you above his head. “That’s the Swayze, sweetheart…”

“Jim calm down and tell me what happened,” alerted John, Bobby and Ellen look at Pastor Jim, waiting for more information than his cryptic call. “Jim?”

“He was there, Y/F/N, threatened to find Y/N and force an annulment if he must. I think this is not about Y/N and Dean, it’s about Mary,” Jim huffs, falling onto a chair. “I think he never got over her rejection.”

“Jesus, Jim,” John furrows his brows before his hands ball into fists. “That was a lifetime ago. Mary and I met, we fell in love and married. She never saw more in Y/F/N than a friend. When he admitted his feelings, Mary tried to be as nice as possible. We were already engaged, Dean on his way and all,” Ellen sighs deeply, shaking her head at your father’s behavior.

“I remember that time well, John. Y/F/N never looked twice at Mary. I know they were friends but things changed and then, one day, out of the blue he admitted his love,” Bobby runs one hand down his face, nodding at Rufus who enters the clubhouse, a frown on his face.

“Someone slit my tires, just like yours, Bobby,” Rufus grumbles. “John, yours are damaged too.”

“That idjit!” Bobby curses. “I bet he came here, not finding his daughter and let out his anger on our bikes. Son of a bitch!” Rage taking over Bobby gets up to take a swig from his beer. “What now?”

“I told him Dean and Y/N are on their way to France, not a complete lie as Dean plans to spare money to have a honeymoon and all,” Jim sighs. “This is a messed-up situation. I do not know how to make Y/F/N see Dean is not you and that Mary, never belonged with him.”

“Let’s find that idjit, John. We will try to talk some sense into that man,” Bobby looks around the clubhouse, grinning as everyone nods in agreement. “We should keep the youngster out of this as no one else knows about Mary and Y/F/N.”

“I’ll come too, John. Mary talked to me after Y/F/N admitted his love,” Ellen claps her hands, looking at her partner. “Come on Bobby don’t make a face. We are talking about a preacher; he will not shoot me.”

“I called the Sheriff on my way, she said Y/F/N has no right to force Y/N to annul her marriage with Dean. She willingly married your son, we all are witnesses, even Y/N’s mother was there. We will try to talk to Y/F/N. He has must give in,” Jim gets up, smirking at John. “I always wondered if I still can ride a bike. I’ll borrow one.”

“Let’s ride then,” John smirks, looking at his ‘old gang’. “Just the oldies this time, awesome…”

“Dean, I am a bit nervous,” you whisper, swallowing thickly while Dean hums, lost in the music and the feeling of your body against his.

“Why? Because of your daddy?” Looking at you in his arms Dean watches you lift your head to meet his gaze. You bite your lip, shaking your head.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to do anything tonight,” Dean whispers sensing you are nervous about your first time he softly kisses your hair. “We rushed everything else. How about we take our time?”

“No,” pouting you fist his jacket. “I am nervous, but I want to have sex with you,” Dean holds back a chuckle at your serious expression.

“Baby girl, we can do it any other time,” murmuring the words he peppers soft kisses to your nose, forehead until his lips claim yours. “I’ll wait for you, Y/N.”

“I want you, Dean! You are my husband, fulfill your duty,” giggling you press your lips to Dean’s eagerly slipping your tongue into his mouth. “I don’t want to disappoint you, is all.”

“Y/N,” murmuring your name Dean presses his forehead to yours, just holding you for a moment, “you could never disappoint me, sweetheart. If someone loses his cool tonight it is me. I mean, you never had sex before and I don’t want to mess up and ruin your first time.”

“It’s with you, Dean. Nothing can go wrong,” you smile when Dean’s hands slide to your back to slowly unzip your dress. “Just don’t ruin my dress and we are good.”

“Y/F/N, listen,” Brady’s father sighs, “I know we agreed our children marry one day, but it seems your daughter is in love with that Winchester boy. Let’s call everything off,” while Carson nods, silently agreeing to his father’s words your father hits the breaks with full force.

“We will not give up now, Brady. Your son will marry my Y/N, period,” he grunts. “I will not allow a Winchester to steal another of my girls.”

“Is this about Mary, Y/F/N?” shaking his head your father glares at Carson who tried to talk to his father. “We all know she met John Winchester and fell in love before you ever said a word about your feelings. She could not know, just like John. It’s called love, Y/F/N, we preach love every Sunday at our churches.”

“Dad is right, Mr. Y/L/N,” Carson finally finds his voice. “I was a bit forward last summer and tried to kiss, Y/N. Honestly, I struggled with alcohol and did stupid things but I will not force your daughter into marriage making us both unhappy,” glaring at your father Carson clears his throat.

“You made us believe Dean forced Y/N into marriage or worse, but she willingly married him, and I am out. You can do whatever you want, I can’t stop you, but I’ll get out of the car and drive home.”

“Right, Carson,” while the Brady’s leave your father’s car, hoping he will stop hunting you and your husband your father drives off, clenching his jaw.

“I hope he does not do anything stupid dad,” Carson sighs. “I mean, he lied to us, pretending Y/N is in danger.”

The only one who could ever reach me

 Was the son of a preacher man

 The only boy who could ever teach me

 Was the son of a preacher man

 Yes, he was, he was, ooh, Lord knows, he was (yes, he was)

Dean sings along the song, while you giggle the whole time. He did not want to ‘go straight for the goal’, instead, Dean started with taking his jacket off, followed by his tie. Now he is busy to slowly open his button-up to distract you from your nervous state.

“I am a daughter, Dean, not a guy,” you giggle again when he drops the button-up, along with his undershirt. Your eyes roam his body, admiring the tattoo at his chest, loving it’s an orchid. “Dean?”

“An orchid for my orchid,” whispering the words Dean watches you stroke the tattoo. Your name written right next to the flower makes you sniffle. “Got it when I had to left town, Y/N.”

His lips claim yours and you lose all fear or worry when you feel his hands gently stroke your back. “Couldn’t forget about you, needed something to remind me of my girl. I remembered the orchids in your window.” You feel his lips travel along your neck, leaving little kisses all over your skin.

“Dean, I dreamed of you when you were away,” with trembling hands you touch his skin, let them travel over his back. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” mumbling the words Dean presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before he looks down at your chest, wiggling his eyebrows. “I got to get rid of that bra, sweetheart,” he playfully threatens, and you squeal when he deftly unclasps the strapless bra, a big grin on his lips.

Left in your panties, stockings, and a blue garter you feel exposed at first, but the way Dean looks at you makes your heart jump in your chest. He’s carefully touching your left breast, squeezing it slightly and you gasp when his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“You’re so responsive,” you swear Dean’s eyes are three shades darker now, or it’s just your imagination but you can’t think about it for much longer as he dips his head to press a searing kiss to your lips while his other hand gropes your breast a bit rougher now.

“Going to make you feel so good, sweetheart. What do you want me to do? Touch you with my lips or fingers?” Confused you look down your body before you take Dean’s hand to press it to your mound. “Naughty girl goes for the hand right away.”

“I mean, don’t you want to,” his lips silence your worries, kiss all the tension away while his hand slips into your panties to toy with your clit. “Feels so good, Dean.”

He’s running his fingers down your clit, rounding the little nub with his fingertips before he brushes over your opening. “Let’s get more comfortable. We will not do it while standing here,” Dean moves you toward the bed, kissing you the whole time.

You drop to the bed with a giggle and a grunt from Dean. He landed on top of you, kissing his way down your body.

“Going to kiss you all over,” he threatens playfully. “Maybe even your sweet pussy,” you look flustered at Dean who grins like the devil again. “I was not joking, sweetheart.”

A peck to your lips later Dean works his way down your body. His lips start at your neck, sucking and nipping demandingly to leave a mark.

“Perfect,” his voice rougher now Dean presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before licking along your skin, down to your collarbone. The whole time his hands mirror his lips, touch the skin his lips and tongue can’t reach.

You close your eyes, gasping whilst his lips wrap around one nipple to suckle harshly at the pebbled nub. Your hands fly to his head, fisting his hair at the same time that Dean turns his attention toward your other nipple. He smirks at your reaction, rutting his erection against your core to make you cry out at his hardness.

“Dean, is it normal that you are that hard?” Innocently looking up at you, hiding he is rock-hard since he saw you in your wedding dress Dean nods, licking along your nipple. “Only for you, Y/N, now…”

Soft kisses get pressed down your tummy and you open your eyes again to watch Dean gathered the fabric of your panties with his teeth, giving you a wink.

“Dean? How?”

His hands move under your ass, encourage you to lift your body to help him get rid of the piece of clothing covering your most private part from Dean’s prying eyes. 

“There we go,” panties tossed over his shoulder Dean stares at your exposed sex, grinning again. “First the garter, sweetheart, and then I’ll eat this sweet pussy.”

You watch him grab the garter, looking at you before he turns his attention toward your body, nibbling at your thigh. He slides the garter down your leg, holding it up like bait before he stuffs it into his pants. 

“Mine to keep,” humming to himself Dean settles between your legs, spreading you on his way. “Now, let me taste your sweetness.”

Not knowing how to react or if you should do anything you watch Dean dive in to slide his tongue through your folds. He’s humming now and then, stroking your thighs with his thumbs while he lazily licks up and down your sex, never breaking eye-contact.

“Dean, it feels, oh-this is,” fisting the sheets you start grinding against his face.

Your body seems to know what to do so you shut your brain off and let your body talk to Dean. “More…”

“You’ll get more, sweetheart but for now let me just,” a finger joins his tongue, circles your entrance carefully, “open you up, Y/N.”

His finger slips inside, and you wiggle slightly, not used to feeling anything bigger than a tampon inside your body. “If you want me to stop, tell me so, Y/N. I need to know if you feel uncomfortable.”

Dean’s concern makes you smile. “It feels odd, but you do not hurt me, Dean. I want more,” licking your lips you look at his hand. “Two?”

“My baby gets two fingers,” adding another finger Dean starts curling his digits, pressing a whimper out of you just when he brushes over the spot making you squirm. “Going to scissor my fingers to open you up a little.”

Dean almost purrs against your flesh when he dives back in. Two fingers knuckle deep, curling he wraps his lips around your sensitive nub, and you feel something happening in your belly. 

There is a knot forming and you do not know if you like it or not, but you arch off the bed feeling the knot tighten. “Dean I…uh-baby, fuck,” you cry out, hit by an unexpected orgasm.

“There is my girl,” Dean grins up at you, still curling his fingers. “Knew you can make it, baby girl. How do you feel?”

“Good, so good, Dean. I want more,” whining you watch Dean slips his fingers out of your slit. “Can I have more?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll give you more in a minute, just let me get rid of my pants,” Dean smirks, hastily leaving the bed to get rid of his clothing. Pants end up on the couch, his socks hang from the lamp and we do not talk about his boxers on the table.

“Dean, you look, damn,” biting your index finger you glance at Dean’s penis, admiring the way it bobs when he walks toward you. 

“Let me fetch a condom and we can start making you my dirty girl,” giggling again you nod eagerly, watching Dean dip one knee into the mattress. “Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

You hold out your arms, shaking your head when Dean still hesitates. “I want you to…you know, make love to me,” you whisper watching Dean roll the condom over his length.

Watching you spread your legs wider Dean kneels between your thighs. He admires your body, for a moment before his eyes meet yours and his heart flutters. “Love you, sweetheart.”

He’s covering your body, moves one hand behind the back of your head to bring you closer to his lips. “Just let me,” you can feel him run the tip up and down your sex, coating his length with your slick, “love you.”

For a moment you feel pressure when he slowly presses into you. His right-hand grips your thigh, holding it in a tight grip while he sinks further into you. Dean moans when you grip his biceps, digging your blunt nails into his flesh when he finally bottoms out.

You blink a few times, ludicrous as Dean’s body is flush against yours. “That’s odd,” you chuckle looking down your body. “Dad wasn’t right. I mean, there is no pain or hellfire. I feel stuffed and I can feel you twitch.”

“How do you feel?” Dean whispers into your ear, moving his right hand to the small of your back to press your body to his warm chest. “Does anything hurt?”

“I want to feel you move, Dean. I want to know how it feels when you,” biting your lip you look up at Dean. “Fuck me.”

“Bad girl, naughty even,” his lips hungrily meet yours, not that innocently anymore. “We will fuck later, tonight we will make love, Y/N.”

Disappointed you feel Dean slide back out, feeling empty you pout. Dean stills, just holding the tip inside, a grin on his lips. Before you can protest he slides back in, making you gasp at the force. 

Your hands move over his back, caressing the skin as he slowly moves inside of you. There is a pressure building up, more intense than before and you want nothing more than to experience another high. 

While Dean holds you against his body, giving you harder thrusts you can’t stop the moans leaving your lips. It’s like Dean broke all seals and now you are lost in the pleasure he gives you, not caring about rules or being ‘a good girl’ any longer.

Your legs wrap around his waist, your hand's paw at his back, and to Dean’s surprise, you raise your head to look him straight in the eyes. “Fuck me, Dean. Make me your dirty girl.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” cursing Dean speeds up, too close to his release he fights against his body, imagining anything but you calling his name, writhing on his dick while you beg him to take you like his dirty girl. “I am going to, fuck me, please. Oh-shit, baby please cum for me.”

Eagerly rolling your hips to meet Dean’s thrusts you throw your head back, crying out Dean’s name before pleasure takes over and you fall back onto the pillow a smirk on your lips. “Damn, Dean.”

“Y/N,” collapsing on top of you Dean buries his face into your neck, moaning your name. “I never came harder, baby girl.”

“Can’t say the same,” giggling you ruffle Dean’s hair, making him laugh against your skin. “I bet no man could make me cum harder.”

“I am your husband, no one but me makes you cum,” humming you close your eyes, enjoying the afterglow. “I love you, baby girl.”

“Love you too, my big bad biker boy…”

“End of line Y/F/N. Cut the crap and let's talk like men,” John sighs, not letting your father pass. “Mary and me, we did not know anything about your feelings. Back then we were in love, I proposed and we married.”

“I loved her, and you stole her, Winchester,” your father spats, pointing toward John’s bike. “You are the devil and seduced her with your cigarettes, the leather jacket, and bike. She should’ve been my wife, not yours.”

“Enough!” Ellen steps toward your father, clenching her fists. “You will not destroy Y/N’s luck out of jealousy. Mary, she was a good woman, loved her children and John. I was the one she turned to after you told her about your feelings. Mary was torn between clarifying that she only loves John and that she’s expecting his child and not wanting to hurt you, her friend.”

“She was pregnant back then,” your father gasps, stepping backward, placing one hand onto his heart. “I did not know. I thought I got a chance.”

“Y/F/N, she loved you like a friend or brother. Mary’s heart only belonged to John, till the end. I am sorry, but that’s the truth,” Ellen’s voice is softer now, full of compassion. “I know it’s hard to lose someone you love, I lost my Billy,” she sniffles now, giving your father a cracked smile.

 “But the old geezer over there,” she points toward Bobby, giving him a soft smile, “is my second love and I do not love him less, just differently. You have got a wonderful wife, a beautiful daughter and soon you will have grandchildren. Do not mess things up, even more, you already missed her wedding. Give her love a chance and we can, if they agree, have a second wedding at your church.”

“Grandchildren, oh, Lord,” falling to his knees, folding his hands your father cries silently, “what have I done.”

“Nothing you can’t fix, Y/F/N. Stop the hatred and let your daughter have her life. We can arrange a second wedding with you leading her down the aisle and marrying her to my son,” John holds out his hand, gripping your father’s hand tightly when he takes it. “I am sorry you loved Mary and lost her, but I lost her too.”

“I do,” smiling wildly you watch Dean put the ring on your finger for a second time. As promised everyone helped to arrange a second wedding, at your father’s church, with your father marrying you to Dean.

“My last words to the newlyweds are private. I must apologize for my stubbornness, for the bad words, and judging this fine young man. I will try to be a better man, husband, father, and man of this church to fulfill the promise I made to my wife and Mary Winchester’s grave. I promise to be the father Y/N deserves, the husband my beloved wife deserves, and the man offering his blessings to the men and women of the MC Purgatory…”

Walking out of the church, holding Dean’s hand you remember the first time you met Dean all those years ago. His green eyes shone, and you knew, you will marry him one day, and you did… 

Tags in reblog

#The Preacher’s Daughter #The preacher’s daughter – forever and always #angst #Smut #virgin reader #biker au #biker!au #Biker!Dean x Preacher!Daughter #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you