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sagesolsticewrites · 2 months

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Masters of the Air Masterlist

Major Gale “Buck” Cleven

Kiss It Better? 💋 - my very first MOTA drabble based on the prompts “boo boo kisses” & “ pet names” (base nurse!reader)

Kiss It Better pt 2 💋 - That lipstick mark leads to a surprising turn of events 👀

Major John “Bucky” Egan

Oblivious - Bucky’s been trying to get your attention for months now, but you continue to misinterpret his romantic advances as friendship. Everyone else on base is tired of seeing you two dance around each other, and they decide to take matters into their own hands.

Homecoming - John finally returns home to his girl (based on the prompt “carrying the other one in their arms”)

requests are open!

Lt. Harry Crosby

Just Say Yes - Tooth-rotting fluff based on the prompt “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.” “What about today?”

Harry Crosby Certified Wife Guy™️ - minific about Croz being head over heels for his wife and the entire 100th knows it

Dear… - A series of letters from one Lt. Harry Crosby to his wife 🤍 (a sort-of continuation of Just Say Yes, but can be read as a standalone!)

A Little Fire - In which Harry Crosby shows his wife exactly how much he appreciates her 😏 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Heat Wave - It’s the hottest summer Iowa’s had in a while. Your husband wears shorts. It gets even hotter (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

In My Arms - Sometimes your husband just needs to be held. (lots and lots of fluff) (coauthored with Winnie!)

Yes, Major - … I mean. Do I even need to say it? 👀 Dom!Croz (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

requests are open!

Sgt. Ken “Kenny” Lemmons

• requests are open!

Lt. Curtis “Curt” Biddick

To The Rescue - in which your friends drag you out to a bar against your will, but you meet a certain soldier that makes it worth it

requests are open!

Major Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal

Take A Break - Rosie runs into a childhood friend at the flak house

Welcome Home - Rosie finally returns home after his second tour, and you take the opportunity to show him exactly how much you missed him 🫠 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

It’s Been A Long, Long Time series:

Kiss Me Once - The moment you’ve been anxiously awaiting is finally here — your boyfriend Rosie Rosenthal finally arrives home

Kiss Me Twice - You and Rosie finally have a “proper reunion” 😏😉 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Kiss Me Once Again - Rosie takes you to his apartment for a proper date night away from his family 😏 (18+ minors dni!)

requests are open!

Captain John Brady

Brady’s Smash Wagon - Your boyfriend (Captain John Brady) takes you (his Red Cross girlfriend) to see his Flying Fortress. Shenanigans ensue 👀 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

requests are open!

Anthony Boyle

Sundress - in which date night takes a turn when Anthony sees the outfit you’ve chosen (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Lipstick Kisses - the sweetest, spiciest Anthony fic y’all ever saw (feat… uh, Things Happening in cars 👀) written by my bestie Winnie!!! (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Pillow Talk - Anthony is in desperate need of rest & relaxation when he returns home from his latest project, and you’re more than happy to provide it. (coauthored with Winnie!!!)

Come and Kiss Me - Anto takes you as his date to the Oscars. Things get very soft and veryyyy spicy (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

The Stache Fic - Anto grows a mustache. You like it… a lot. (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Better Kind of Best Friend - Anthony, your friend-with-benefits, stops by for an impromptu visit after an interview. (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

No Rush - just a soft lil makeout blurb <3

Freckle Kisses - very short very sweet lazy morning blurb

Waking Up Next to You - soft lazy morning smut <3 (spicy!! 18+!! Minors begone!!)

i thought we had no chance (and that’s romance) - You resolve to tell Anthony about your feelings— with surprising results. (Part Two to Better Kind of Best Friend) (spicy!! 18+!! Minors begone!!)

#masterlist #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #austin butler major gale buck cleven #callum turner major john bucky egan #harry crosby #ken lemmons #austin butler #callum turner #anthony boyle #rafferty law #robert rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #nate mann #sage speaks

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swifty-fox · 1 month

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@bcolfanfic number 1 enabler so heres some Curt/Ken tenderness for the late night crew

Sequel to Bcol's

and immediate sequel to my drabble here:

Curt can tell when Gale has fallen asleep because the entire house seems to take a breath. He lays in the guest bedroom still in his clothes from the airport. From the gym. Hadn’t even stopped at his shoe-box apartment to change out of the loose black joggers and shirt with his nametag. His windbreaker wasn’t nearly enough for the Wyoming winter.

“John had a gun.”

Janie’s got a gun Janie's got a gun her whole world’s come undone from lookin’ straight at the sun.

Curt taps the tune out on his chest and glances over at the blinking alarm clock. Only Buck and Bucky would still have an honest-to-god analog clock in their home. But it’s comforting in a way, reminds him of childhood where things like suicide didn’t yet exist. Three-thirty AM. The witching hour his mamo would say and blow a kiss to the Brigid's Cross over the door frame. It’s late, painfully so and Curt’s eyes are so tired they feel covered in sand. But his body is wired, wide awake; fingers stained from drywall and fresh paint flecks.

The hole was patched.

The aftermath was going to take a lot longer to fix.

Now that Janie's got a gun, she ain't never gonna be the same.

His phone chimes suddenly and he tugs it from his pocket. He knew he was hot shit but a Grindr notification this far out in the middle of nowhere was a surprise. He swipes past it without even looking. Ken’s name is at the top of his list, several unread texts from hours ago left unanswered after Buck’s assurances.

New York was two hours ahead of Wyoming. The sun would be rising there.

He tries to tell himself he doesn’t need to talk to Ken. It just felt right to update him on their friends. It wasn’t about Curt and whatever comfort he needed from the younger man. You didn’t seek comfort from things that meant nothing. So it was nothing. So he shouldn’t reach out.

Besides, he shouldn’t text Ken so early when the other man was probably deep asleep, shouldn’t text him and make him feel guilty for missing any updates on Bucky. He flicks his thumb up and down, hovering over the cracked-barely-beyond-use phone screen.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles, exhaustion and dialect blurring the words together into a mumbled ‘fuggit’.

He flicks out of imessage and opens Discord. Ken’s icon was lit up, the scrolling text below it taking Curt a moment of squinting to decipher. He wasn’t old, he was tired thank you.

KennyLemon playing Among Us.

Sweet boy, Curt thinks and then pulls a face at himself. His stomach untwists the smallest amount.

The discord call rings for all of half a second before Ken’s voice comes over the phone.

“Curt?”

His stomach untwists just that much more. “Heya Kenny. You should be asleep.”

“I couldn’t.”

That's what Curt loved. Liked. Hated. About Ken. He was so sincere it was sickening, cracked his damn molars with it. How he’d made it through everything without bruising that tender center of his beyond repair was a wonder to Curt. Like a peach, one Curt was more than used to sinking his teeth into.

You got one juicy ass Lemmons.

“Curt.”

“Yeah Ken?” He liked it when the kid said his name. Made something in his chest go all soft and gooey like chocolate.

“I said, how’s Bucky and everything else?”

Curt blows out through his lips, tries to exhale every bit of breath in his body until he could sink into the mattress and hide from this whole damn day.

“Brains all where they should be.”

Sometimes it was good to be vicious. It kept him from feeling too much, feeling too tender. He was a New Yorker, take away his meanness and he’d be a hermit crab without its shell.

“Jesus, Curt.”

“I dunno what t’ tell ya Kenny. He’s halfway across the state where we can’t talk to him. Buck’s half dead from exhaustion or shock or both. I spent half the night patching a bullet hole in a wall my best friend tried to put in his head.” To his shock, his vague horror he feels his throat closing up, his eyes growing hot with burning tears. “Fuck.” He sits up, wipes his eyes violently and tries to yank his jogger leg up to get the straps of his prosthetic. The soft fabric catches on the plastic, on the velcro, on anything it can find. “Fuck,” he spits again just because he can.

“You okay B?” Ken’s voice was so soft and tender Curt wants to bare his teeth at it; just to protect himself. He does, only cause the other man couldn't see and so it wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

“Can’t get m’damn leg off.” He mumbles, feeling hot shame mingle with the frustration. It was all grief anyways, hidden cleverly behind the mask called complex emotions.

“Wish I was there. I could help you.”

Curt closes his eyes. Sweet boy. Wish you were here too Kenny.

He didn’t catch feelings. Was renowned for it, prided himself on it. He kept things casual because it was better that way, could see the way Ken was skittish as a stray kitten at the idea of anything real. He wasn’t about to go wading around in someone else's shame, but it did hurt in a special sort of way knowing the fear Ken battled with.

“It’s pretty tense here right now anyways. Probably for the best youse not.”

Kenny’s silent for a long time and Curt tries to swallow his regret, finally winning the battle with his leg and dropping it to the floor with a pointed thump. Take that you bastard. “Yeah you’re probably right.”

Aw Hell. “It’s not that I don’t want you here Kenny.” He says haltingly, rubs a hand through his hair he still liked to keep short, “I just- I want you here a lot. First thing I wanted to do when Gale finally went to bed was call you.”

“Oh.” Kens voice was a little shaky.

Gentle gentle, be gentle with him Curt. His ma’s voice; always lecturing. You’re too rough Curt, Slow down Curt. Don’t push good things away just cause you’re scared Curt.

“Just so you don’t forget.” He finishes awkwardly “I like havin’ you around.”

Curt thumps AC/DC against the hollows of his ribs.

Little lover, I can't get you off my mind, no, Little lover, I've been trying hard to find.

“You’ve got a real way with words Curt.” Ken teases.

They laugh, Curt pitching his low so as not to carry through the too-empty house “If y’wanted a poet you wouldn’t be with me.” He teases. A question hidden in a statement, the first time he’d dared acknowledge there might be something.

Because fuck he wanted Ken here. Couldn’t lie to himself now that he was hearing the younger man's voice over the phone. Wanted to tuck him against his side and bury his nose into those curls; sweet smelling and warm. Wanted to press him into the mattress and remind himself that they were alive and things were okay. Ken was sweet and sugar, sometimes Curt swore he licked it off the man’s skin. Whispered it into the shell of his ear as he ground his hips into Ken’s ass until there wasn’t a single ounce of space between them.

“You taste like dessert Lemmons.”

Curt grunts and adjusts himself. He couldn’t help his brain, his drive. But it felt beyond wrong to start anything right then and now.

“Yeah,” Ken smiles. Curt can tell. Ken smiled with his words and his body, just just his sweet mouth. “You’re right.”

Too sweet, too sincere. It made him violent, made him want to bruise and mark and tease. He rolls onto his stomach with a groan, pressing his face into the mattress and counting backwards from twenty.

“I wanna fuck you Kenny.” His words are muffled into the duvet but still legible.

Ken sucks in a quiet breath, Curt can practically hear the other man blush.

“You’re just sad and scared B.”

Curt squeezes his eyes shut so hard dots spring up behind his eyelids, his throat burns hot and it takes him several breaths to stave off the tears.

“Yeah.” he mumbles “But I still wanna fuck ya.”

Tug his curls, lick his stomach that wasn’t quite flat despite his fit state (Curt liked it that way). Kiss him til his lips were swollen and red. Red as his pretty curved cock when Curt took it to the root and slipped two fingers inside. Ken liked his fingers, he said. Liked how thick they were, the way the callouses caught and dragged inside him. The strength of them, liked to wrap his lips around middle and index and drag his tongue between them until Curt lost hold of his already thin control.

“You don’t gotta fuck away all your feelings sweetheart.”

It’s not bitter or reproachful, Ken’s statement. It’s gentle and kind. A reminder out of love, a lever opening the floodgates on the things Curt tried to keep in control.

He gasps. The bed sheets are wet with tears, his nose running with snot. Fucking gross.

“I dunno how t’ fix this one Kenny.” he whispers “The goddamn bullets still in the wall, rattling around in there like a fuckin ghost. I asked Gale if we should try to get it out and the look on his face-”

“You can’t fix it for them.”

“Whatdy-”

“You can’t,” Ken insists. “You can hold ‘em up and support ‘em and do all the things Gale can’t manage right now but the only one who can fix Bucky is Bucky and the only ones who can fix Buck and Bucky are themselves. You can’t put that burden on yourself or you’ll crack and all youse will end up resenting each other.”

“When’d you get so smart huh kid?”

“I’ve always been smart, and don't get weird on me.”

Curt sniffles loudly and grossly that Ken remarks on it, making them both laugh.

It’s Buck and Bucky he owes his life to, who he would lay down his own for. But right now he doesn’t know what he’d do without Ken Lemmons.

It’s a sobering thought, a terrifying thought; one he can sit with for only a few moments before he’s drawn into that reactionary headspace of fuck, bite, take this tender thing and force it inside your ribcage before it hurts you.

Kinda fucks you up when you’re raised that drinking a guys blood is the ultimate act of devotion.

“I miss you.” he says and fuck him he means it.

“Take care of our boys and come home soon B.”

#mota #swiftywrites #curt biddick #ken lemmons #curt/ken #do they have a shipname

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precious-little-scoundrel · 13 days

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Is there any chance of a naughty sleepover with Ken Lemmons? Enquiring minds would love to know.

Oh how I labored over this. Not because I don’t love Kenny, I adore him in fact but in many ways I’m realizing I’ve got a significant hurdle to surmount: he’s too good for me so I rarely think of him this way. He’s not possessing the full brotherly vibes of Demarco, but he is another class of his own. I admire him too much to fully lust. Also he is baby.

However, he’s also a grease covered badass so, before I go and baby girlify him too hard, let’s take a crack at this, best of my ability and with the kind help of my babe @faegoddessog

Cock-versations || Sgt. Ken Lemmons edition 🛠

nsfw (AF!!) below the cut:

What’s this cherubic lookin’ man packing?: my vote is the most velvety soft cock, average length, average girth, lovely altogether AND he definitely curves to the left which will rub you mad, has a verrrrry large sack sporting a pronounced seam up the middle and is oddly hairless (great for tea bagging, cough cough) and his curlies, well, such as they are -they’re extra curly. DUH

A note on the wielder of the weapon: he’s nineteen, ok? Very young and green, is still quite enamoured with the act but his enthusiasm is well earned. BIG GIVER ENERGY! This is good as you two totally took each other’s virginity, and due to his adoration, patience and adept skills for tuning up any motor, you’re gonna have the most enjoyable virginity loss like, ever. 10/10 recommend. You will be so ready for him it doesn’t even hurt and it’s a blissful first thirty seconds as his angelic light shines real bright inside you. Uhem .

Other virtues: what those hands do?! He is pretty much happy and giddy to get you off anyway you ask, it brings him most satisfaction to bring you to bliss, he’s playful and he’s resourceful, his fingers are ten times better than most men’s cocks. You’ve see his attitude about everyone’s successes? Translates beautifully in bed.

Extra curriculars: THIS MAN WANTS TO PUT A BABY IN YOU HARD! I can’t explain it, maybe it’s the Arkansas coming through, his fatherly ways with his little English friends, or the way he just looks like his return would be potent, either way, ten months after he’s home you’re gonna be pushing out twins, I don’t make the rules . First set of twins, i should specify, another follows at some point.

The kids look so much like him you’re more than happy to keep replicating, he gets their little baby footprints tattooed on his shoulder, and spends every night of your pregnancy laying on his belly next to you on the couch talking to your belly. Reading Popular Mechanics to the babes and educating them on the merits of diesel vs gasoline.

He’ll then lean over and kiss your belly and whisper "sleep tight babies" (cuz HE knows there's two in there, even if you and the doctors don't) then he'll look up at you and say "It's mommy and Daddy time" before he rises to kiss you. Lots of pregnant cock warming on the front porch swing, simple but pretty new dresses spread out as a surprise on your bed and the proudest husband over everything you do. “My beautiful wife” -you’ve never heard him introduce you as anything but.

#ken lemmons #masters of the air #mota #cock-versations #Naughty sleepover

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bobparkhurst · 1 month

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brief immediate mota finale thoughts

Literally every scene involving Rosie was gold. Not just because Nate Mann has consistently knocked it out of the park, but I think he's just had the most incredible arc. This whole series could have been about Rosie Rosenthal specifically and I think barely scratch the surface of how interesting and incredible this man was. Rosie's great character trait is his empathy and righteousness. There was a moment I found mildly chilling, which is where, after having witnessed the atrocities, Rosie gets a line that does step on that line where righteousness turns into zealotry and it's *understandable*, and it's a great counterpoint to Harry's worry about what the war has turned him into. Like, I feel that whole moment is quite ambiguous about where we all fall and tbh I adored it. The writing was great, the intimacy was great and Anthony Boyle and Nate Mann were just absolutely just showing us all how it's done. Both of those boys need accolades for this.

Buck/Bucky broke my heart over and over again. The return of the lucky deuce (that teary face)! Buck telling Bucky with his words that he was glad to have him there these years. Flying home. Austin Butler's face journey when he hears Bucky's voice over the radio. Same buddy, you should have seen me sitting here like CALLUM? I KNOW THOSE VOWELS. THAT'S CALLUM TURNER. You heard me the first time, Gale.

KENNY IN THE PLANE. LOVE THAT FOR ME. Raff Law's perfect little face of awe. I did actually like as well that he fixed up all these planes constantly as instruments of war, with every repair he made representative of danger, injury and death, and then he got to ride in one for the very first time and it's a mission of help. Ken has just been such a quiet joy of a presence throughout. I thought it was lovely to give him the moment with the kids at the end, listening to the radio too. This baby boy of the company was fully older brother. God. I think Ken Lemmons might be my favourite character of all. If I can ever get my hands on good quality vids, I'm making so many gifs. PLEASE GOD LET ME FIND THE BOOK ABOUT HIM.

I do think the Tuskegee airmen were short-changed, I was really hoping for some meatier stuff for them this episode. I understand why they weren't the focus - the focus is on exactly four characters - but I do think a few more scenes wouldn't have gone amiss. I adored the Jefferson/Cleven scene of last episode. Did love the quiet background Macon/DeMarco friendship though.

I mentioned Anthony Boyle earlier, but again, there was some fantastic Croz stuff here. His physicality has changed so much over the course of this show, it's so good.

There's no let up in the horror, but I think a really good blend of that and the catharsis and the celebration. MotA has suffered from pacing problems throughout, and a bit here too, but overall I thought it was balanced and the visual colour returning towards the end. Gorgeous.

If I was Gale Cleven's wife of 51 fucking years I'd be pissed as hell to not even be mentioned in his title card. Jesus Christ. It's fine to have that narrative in the show but I found it very disrespectful, like Marge was his one and only true love? There was room to acknowledge both loves.

#mota spoilers #i have many other thoughts but i also have to do some actual work today so #mota #masters of the air

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wexhappyxfew · 2 months

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I hope I'm not too late, but you know I'm going to request something for Flo and Benny🖤 Maybe 12 from the "It's Spring!" writing prompt list? - @lostloveletters

ah hello battie ( @lostloveletters )!! not late at all! i was BEYOND excited to do some more with Flo and Benny - those two have captured my heart and i'm so so glad they seemed to do the same for you!! please enjoy my take on the prompt you've sent in - and let's just say, despite the happiness of the prompt, my recent emotions of episode 5 seemed to take over and here we are :)

prompt: rolling down the window of the car

featuring: Flo Godfrey and Benny DeMarco

The feeling would always remain cathartic in a way she couldn't entirely describe to anyone close to her.

Watching the B-17s take off in energetic fashion towards the sky, aligning in perfect formation to the morning haze of what the day was to bring, smelling sweet air, feeling the cool breeze, sitting there watching that 'bucket of bolts' as Wink liked to call them, take off into the sky, the small voice in her head saying they'd all come back. That they'd all be okay. Sometimes it was just a white lie to convince her to calm down.

But it was nearly sundown, 17 out of the 18 planes that had taken off had returned, the pilots and their boys were eating well and washing up and enjoying the feeling of standing on solid ground again. And Flo's stress levels had lessened slightly - well, slightly was a loose-leaf term for it. They'd dropped about a percent before Lemmons started yelling about one of the controls for the plane propeller on Brady's fort that had taken more blows than she had bargained for earlier.

"God, just... give it another go!"

Lemmons was yelling from somewhere down in the plane propeller to her left - closer to the first and second engines on the fort. Clearly, flak had done it's horrendous job more than either her or Lemmons cared to admit. Flo, sat in the pilots seat, flicked the metal probe on the switchboard and heard the gutteral and pathetic whir of the propeller trying to start up, but to no avail, stutter to a stop.

"Nothing!" Flo yelled, pulling open the window in the cockpit, "Look, Kenny, I think we gotta jerry-rig it!" Lemmons' faced appeared and her offered her a surprised brow raise.

"Jerry-rig? Who the hell-"

"My father showed me how to do it on a boat one time-"

"A boat?! Listen, Godfrey, that's a boat, this is a plane-"

"Yes! But it should work just the same-"

"Florence Godfrey is that you?" Flo froze about mid-speech, the same turning into samey, which was hardly even a word.

Slowly averting her eyes from the propeller and the sad excuse for engines, she looked down on the ground, past the wings of the fort and found Captain Benny DeMarco standing there, uniform on, tired eyes, a smile on his face, and a slightly bloodied bandage hanging around his neck.

Hanging out the window, looking like an eager, excited dog in front of a Captain was surely not the picture she wished to paint but the sheer surprise that took over her face was equally uncalled for and warranted. Flo could briefly see Lemmons looking up at her with a smirk on his face.

"I-"

"She'll be right down!" Lemmons yelled, the grin on his face widening as her eyes followed, "Go on, get going, I'll jerry-rig this-"

"You were about to argue with me that that was the last thing you wanted to do-"

"I'm jerry-rigging it." he said, then smirked, "Go." Flo smiled at Lemmons before turning her attention back on the Captain stood on the tarmac, that soft smile on his face.

"If this was a car, I'd tell you to get in; I'd roll down the window as kindly as I could, too." she called to him a grin on her face, "You'll have to meet me on the other side though, where I'll make a less-than-stellar exit." She watched Benny laugh at her words and shake his head.

"You could probably give me a run for my money!" he called up to her, before sending her a wink as he disappeared under the plane.

Flo quickly looked down at her clothes, the minute she took to reevaluate herself enough to notice the grease stains, the minor paint job cropping up on the ends of her OD top, and the tear in her shoulder from where her top had gotten caught on a piece of metal bent awkwardly from the plane. Spinning herself around, she moved through the center of the plane before making her, as expected, less-than-stellar exit onto the tarmac, and finding Benny there right in front of her - holding a hand against her head, gray beanie covering flying braids that needed redoing, the slight, night wind brushing her crimson cheeks.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you tonight," Flo said as she approached him, her eyes darting to the bandage hap-hazardously wrapped around his neck, the red spot lingering lower on the wrap, her smile fading slightly, "are you okay?" He seemed to sense her worry and reached up to gingerly touch the bandage and shook it off, smiling at her as she came closer.

"Just took a bit of shrapnel from a blast up there, nothing to worry about," he said, but she could see the bit of pain that ran over his face as he stood there. She became slightly distracted by the scent of his cologne hitting her nose - the sudden realization that she probably smelled like a greasy, wet rag making her want to crawl into a hole. She looked up at Benny, deep brown eyes soft in the light of the sunset, focused solely on her. He could've gotten himself straight to a warm meal, but instead was stood outside with her - he'd just flown a plane over Germany and back, she'd spoon feed him dinner if it meant it brought him comfort.

"If I'm holding you from your meal, I'm sorry I just-"

"No, no," Benny said quickly, stepping forward, placing his hands on her shoulders, the presence comforting in a way she hadn't felt in months, "no, not at all……I, uh, just….wanted to thank you, for a few nights ago. The dance." A smile broke out on her face and she let out a small laugh and looked up into his eyes again.

"Sometimes with all that's going on around," he looked around at the airfield and then looked back at her again, "just, dancing with you, brought me away from the war for a bit. Never knew how much something like that could mean in the moment until you're standing there….especially with someone like yourself."

"Benny…." she whispered, but his smile softened, as he reached out and gently tucked some of her lose flyaway hairs behind her left ear, his hand warm, thumb lightly brushing against her cold cheek. Her heart stuttered - Benny DeMarco, that look in your eye…..

"I know, I know, it's war. Flying B-17s, you can't exactly go around saying stuff like that, knowing that well…." Benny trailed off his trembling words and looked back at her, a riddled air of confidence and calm filling his eyes in front of her, "life's too short not to say something like that, even with the Germans breathing down our necks. And I'd regret it everyday if I never said it to you. Knowing how much it meant…." to both of us, her mind whispered. She watched him.

Her emotions were suddenly in five different directions, all good directions, she reminded herself - for a moment, her heart pounded and her mind raced, and the reality of war ebbed in and out of her vision. But here was someone, looking at her like he'd lasso the moon for her, in the midst of war, showing up to the plane she was losing her mind over a propeller about, when he very well should be sitting down and eating up, thanking her. And really, she should be thanking him.

Flo stepped closer to him, his light breathing fanning across her face, his cologne still overwhelming her nose, but still oh-so-enjoyable, and his presence warm and inviting and there.

He was right there.

Inches.

And she hugged him, wrapping her arms, careful of the wrap, around his neck, and hugged him wholly. Where she was enveloped by him in every way possible, where for a moment it wasn't the two of them on a tarmac, one having just finished off a mission against the enemy while the other was fixing up the planes for the next, but where it was the two of them, in a different circumstance, a different way. Where war wasn't the backdrop to their emotions that lingered at the borderline. Softly, she shifted her lips to his ear and pressed a soft kiss there.

"Thank you for for everything," she whispered, "because for once, war has shown me that hiding anything I feel will only be regretful in the long-run." Flo slowly pulled back, staring up into Benny's tired eyes, and smiled softly.

"In another world, we're dancing at the Ritz, just you and I and Louis Armstrong above us," she whispered to him, his eyes hazy and soft, like he were imagining a world like that, too, "we're dancing and there's no war. And it's just us." Flo helped him to stand on two feet that day on the tarmac, on the ground. They lost men everyday they went and flew missions - men they trained with, grew with and flew with. Flo was sure of one thing - no matter what transpired above the clouds, she wouldn't lose Benny.

Benny wouldn't ever lose her.

#brb going to go cry now over these two!#thank you for this prompt #definitely took a turn i didn't expect but enjoyed it the entire way through #tackling emotions neither know how to feel but letting themselves feel it anyway #and letting those emotions happen too #yeah my heart #masters of the air #mota #bernard demarco #florence godfrey #flo x benny #these twooooo #+ken lemmons appearance bc he and flo are basically a package deal #those last few lines? yes very purposeful bc 😭#mota writings

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suraemoon · 5 days

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Would I be able to request domestic hcs with Ken Lemmons? ⭐️

Ken Lemmons Headcanons

~ Domestic Edition ~

🍋: Of course you would, love. Here are some cute little Kenny things I came up with. This has been a busy weekend for me but I ended up more inspired than I thought! I hope you enjoy.

🛠️: Thank you to the most darling cheerleader @precious-little-scoundrel. Some of her ideas are sprinkled in here like pixie dust.

You and Ken Lemmons are true highschool sweethearts, meeting on the first day of freshman year and not mustering up the courage to admit your feelings for eachother until the last day of school before spring break

It was a beautiful day in the local park, only about an hour after the final bell rung, freeing you from responsibility for the next two weeks

You two walked hand in hand, a gesture that has become second nature as you have done it many plenty of times before, making your way down the rocky stone path

After sitting down on the grass together in a comfortable and beautiful silence, the only sounds being the noises of soft nature, Kenny tucks a piece of hair behind your ear

You noticed how his usually steady hands shook in nervousness while his finger glided down the side of your ear and as you contemplated the specific reason why that may be, his pretty face started to come closer to yours

His eyes flutter closed and he kisses you

It’s something both of you have dreamed about, a scenario rehearsed and repeated in both of your young minds hundreds of times while zoning out in class, your teacher droning on about a new math problem

The kiss was slow and gentle, his lips softer than the blanket of green grass sitting underneath your two bodies

A cute little nose rub led to a second kiss, followed by a third, then a fourth

You remember the way the birds chirped, the way the flowers looked more vibrant than usual as he walked you home that day

Upon arriving at your front porch, yet another soft kiss was exchanged and you watched curiously as he put something gently into your palm, wrapping your fingers around it as if to be kept with utmost care

It was a tiny but hopeful four leaf clover

One he found hiding among the luscious green grass right before the kiss

Ken’s mechanical skills bode well in his favor when it comes to impressing your father

At first your father wasn’t quite keen about his beloved daughter having a boyfriend but when the curly headed Lemmons boy comes over and fixes a car part that your father did not even know existed? That and Kenny’s transparent love for you helps get the paternal stamp of approval.

Now he always asks when Ken is coming over

Dad insists on talking all things mechanic on the front porch and you have to practically drag Ken inside the house in order to get alone time because your boyfriend is simply too polite to end the conversation

Your first date was the cutest picnic fathomable

You two watched the sunset together and then looked at the stars through Kenny’s new telescope

You become Mr. and Mrs. Ken Lemmons the summer after graduating highschool on a beautiful August day

A couple that made it through highschool, I know right?

Your wedding was straight out of the end of a romance film, but it was nothing but a new beginning for the two of you

It was a small chapel wedding full of nothing but family and friends

For the rest of your life, you fondly remember the way the sunlight shine through the stained glass windows as you walked down the aisle

Yes, he had tears in his eyes

You can recall the warmth and happiness in the air as the double doors opened to present the two of you to the world, Mr and Mrs. Lemmons walking hand-in-hand down flower-covered concrete steps

The wedding reception was held on your parent’s farm, surrounded by loved ones and open space

You two are each other's first time and it’s a beautiful virginity loss indeed

Ken has always been such a giver and the bedroom is included in that

Patience, devotion, enthusiasm, praise, love, love, love, and more love

^^^ Some words you thought up to describe the blissful experience after being cleaned up and cuddled, your white lace gown discarded on the floor after being replaced with white sheets and body heat

The first little Lemmons child was conceived that night, no doubt about it

Ken has always wanted children

and after spotting you (and your coworkers but his eyes were solely on you) lead a group of smiling toddlers across the street after a day in the park like a brood of ducklings during one of many daycare shifts, he knew that there was no other woman he’d want to be his children’s mother

Is it cheesy to say that you two planted a lemon tree in the backyard?

Maybe right after you got married and bought your first house in the sunny suburbs

It started off small, but just like your relationship it grew taller, developed stronger, and blossomed into an epitome of beauty

It takes six to nine months for a lemon to ripen

Nine months after first planting your tree, you get your first lemon, as yellow as the sun and picture perfect

You happen to notice it while looking out the window of the nursery, the same day you brought your firstborn home from the hospital

It isn’t long after you give birth when your Kenny goes off to England

His mind is on you and the baby 24/7, always sending long letters about how much he misses the two of you

You send back equally lengthy replies, along with numerous photos of your growing little one

Maybe a not-so-appropriate picture of you in a silk nightie, laying in your way-too-empty bed is slipped into photo pile

Where’d that come from? Hmmm I don't know. Unexpected behavior from sweet little Mrs. Lemmons but boy is it appreciated.

Even though he’s overseas and you’re still in Arkansas, you can practically feel his blushing cheeks.

Playing with the rambunctious children of Thorpe Abbotts reminds Ken of the smiley baby he has waiting for him back home in Arkansas

When he finally comes home, a spin in the air accompanied a long kiss the moment you’re back in his arms, the two of you are able to continue where you left off

Some nosy individuals had doubts on how such a young, newborn marriage would last due to such a long distance and so much time apart

Did the baby bird leave the nest too soon?

But in some unexpected way, the experience brought you even closer together

You two didn’t just fly, you soared

The family expands and something that becomes an essential to you Lemmons is nature and fresh air

Ken is the king of nature walks and picnics

He points out different birds to the kids while walking down trails, letting them hold onto his shoulders when their little legs get tired of walking

Giggles galore while splashing in the Ozark streams

Gardening is also key part of life in the Lemmons household

It takes the same amount of love, dedication, and hard work that reminds Kenny of his time in Thorpe Abbotts

Little Lemmon's children running around the yard with bouncing curls and dirty overalls

They all have his pretty smile and his unwavering determination

beautiful minds full of creativity and kindness

They’re natural born problem solvers and teamworkers, working together to create the most elaborate pillow forts and interesting inventions

He helps them with school projects. The school science fair? The Lemmons children win every year. Whether it be a homemade volcano or potato light bulb, a bunch of soft blue ribbons and shiny gold trophies collect over the years.

He also builds trains models for himself and the littles

Every December there is a train making its way around the Christmas tree, tracks sitting comfortably on the hem of the red and green skirt

Kenny also does all the yard work

Mowing the lawn, raking the leaves, you name it

Whenever he rakes leaves, he gathers them into a giant pile for the kids to jump in

It doesn’t matter one bit to him that he has to rake it all up again at the end of their activity, his children’s smiles make all the work worth it

You want a new shed? A greenhouse? A chicken coop? If you bring it up dismissively over breakfast, it will be built and completed by the end of the day

Imagine bringing him a glass of cold lemonade, your sundress flowing behind you as you walk over to him

You wipe his forehead with a cloth and then he kisses you lovingly and gratefully before getting back to work

He is sweaty and gorgeous as he walks through the back door, the setting sun behind him

The sight of pure effort personified makes you anticipate the children going to bed and it just being you and him alone

Giving him a bath?

Just imagine washing those curls, running your hands through them as his eyes are closed in pure bliss

Like I said earlier, Ken is a giver. If you do something for him, he wants to return it tenfold.

His fingers know the perfect pace, the perfect rhythm to keep you moaning and writhing from his touch

He loves putting his lips on yours

Making out in bed or a quick peck as he’s walking by you in the kitchen

He’ll stare in awe while you’re getting ready in the morning, admiring every inch of you

Rubbing his tired eyes to make sure he isn’t dreaming up the absolute goddess standing in front of him

He isn’t dreaming, definitely not

He is your greatest support system, your most devoted fan, your biggest advocate

The proudest husband ever and he isn’t ashamed about it

————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! I do take requests, if you are interested, there’s just no absolute guarantee I’ll get to them. xxxx

#masters of the air #ken lemmons #mota #mota fanfiction #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #mota headcanons #headcanons

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trashbag-baby666 · 1 month

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Sweet Creature-Curt/Lemmons

Happy birthday to my dearest Curtielicious @mangokitkats !!!! Luv you I apologize this is a day late!!!

Summary: a glimpse into the first morning of Curt and Ken’s honeymoon in Italy!

WC: 1,613

C/W: NSFW, fingering, penetration, riding, y’know it’s smut.

A/N: I just wanted to say this is like an off shoot of my high school au of them as adults!!! So I’ll provide more lore at any request that’s mentioned in here!

MOTA Masterlist!

Curt had to click together in his mind whether he had died and woke up in heaven or if this really was his life. Ken sat by the window with his knee pulled up to his chest, his chin resting on it. A paintbrush rested between his dainty fingers, dancing a light shade of yellow over the canvas. He blinked a few times to clear the morning fog out, Ken still sat there with the early morning Italian sunlight kissing his bare shoulders.

“Good morning, Curtie.” Ken glanced over to him from where he sat. The remnants of last night's clothes and Curt’s prosthetic tossed onto the floor next to the bed. The soft white sheet haphazardly lay on Curt’s waist, his thigh peaking out just slightly.

“Surprised you’re awake.” Curt rubbed his eyes resting his arm on the pillow staring at the beautiful angel in the room. They decided to meet in Italy for Ken’s birthday. Curt had a flight to pilot there a couple days ago. Ken got off of work yesterday and flew from Wyoming to Orvieto, Italy, “Not jet lagged?”

“Slept on the flight. Slept hard for a couple hours after our love making. Decided to paint you.” Ken turned the canvas showing the beginning of a painting of him.

“Well you better be awake, Kennie we got a birthday wine tasting today.”

“Don’t remind me…I already felt extra crunchy when I got out of bed today.”

“Couldn’t stretch your legs on the flight?”

“Not everyone can have less legroom as an option.”

“Some of us are just lucky, well now you’re married into the luck of the Irish.” Curt winked rolling over in bed. “Come here.”

“Should I now?” Ken dropped the paintbrushes in the mason jar of water, swirling it around, turning the water a beautiful soft yellow.

“I’d recommend it.”

Ken smiled standing up off the floor and pulling the sheets off Curt. He leaned down running his cheek up to Curt’s mouth. “God I missed you, Curtie.”

“Missed you, doll face.” Cradling his jaw Curt stared up at his beautiful husband, “Lemme kiss you, come here.”

“Didn’t get enough last night?”

“I’m starving,” Curt mumbled out Ken sinking his lips into him balancing on his knees. The friction of his bare cock against Curt’s chest proved to cause some sort of sensations. Curt raked a hand into Ken’s golden curls tugging gently.

“Must’ve missed me?”

“Like you wouldn’t of fuckin’ believed, Kennie. I scoped out all the best spots in the Airbnb for us.”

“How kind of you,” Ken let out a little chuckle, tipping their foreheads together.

“Are you going to bend me over somewhere?”

“Of course, pretty boy.” Curt slid his hands down Ken’s thin waist to his hips, delivering a gentle squeeze.

“Right now I just want you on my cock, let the birthday boy go for a little ride, hm?” Curt purred, beginning to massage his thumb into Ken’s plump ass.

“Oh, I think I would like that.” Ken leaned over pressing his lips back into Curt’s, rocking his pelvis against his. The feeling of Ken’s perfect, soft skin providing a warm feeling for Curt inside of him.

Curt darted his tongue into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the others. The white gold heat of their dicks rubbing against the other Ken trying to pick up his pace.

“No, no, princess, you have to wait your turn.” Curt scooped up Ken’s hips off of his, the other man jerking forward slightly in Curt’s familiar calloused, rough hands.

“That’s unfair, it’s my birthday.” Ken pushed out his lip, softening his eyes.

“You don’t even want me to finger you?”

“Well…”

Curt snickered, reaching to the bedside table he had already prepared for their get away.

“You really thought ahead.”

“You know I did, sugar.” Curt snatched the travel size bottle of lube, “You want me to go slow, baby?”

“No,” Ken didn’t hesitate watching Curt squeeze out the clear gelish substance onto his fingers.

“Oh you whore, someone really is impatient.” Ken readjusted on his knees then laid his head back against Curt’s chests, “Ready birthday boy?”

“Mhm,” Ken murmured into his chest, feeling Curt’s fingers plunge inside of him with ease.

“Oh, hell.” He pushed his hips back into his fingers.

“Sit still,” Curt barked, pulling his fingers from Ken teasingly.

“Hmm.”

“Come on, pretty boy.”

“Ye…yes sir.”

Curt let his lips split into a small smirk, his cheeks running red hot. God he loved hearing those words leave his pretty, pink lips.

Sucking in a breath, Ken clenched down around Curt’s fingers. fighting everything inside to keep his hips still. Ken wanted to just let Curt hold his fingers there and just let him rock his hips back. Fucking his fingers until he came but that was not the case. Without even thinking Ken pushed his hips back into Curt’s hand just as he began to pick up his pace.

“Someone just can’t wait, can he? You just wanna ride me right now, you slut?” Curt pulled his fingers from Ken fast, whipping them on the sheets. Ken's mouth left slightly agape against Curt’s chest as he’s left empty and horny, “Hm I asked you a question?”

Ken turned a deep red, his cock twitching against Curt’s stomach. “Please, I need you so bad, Curtie.”

“Oh that’s my good boy right there.” Curt rubbed the others' hips, “Come on.”

“Yes, sir.” Ken nodded against his chest, sitting up with his hands resting on Curt’s pecks.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

Ken sat up on his knees letting Curt line him up perfectly with his entrance. The moment he felt his tip enter him he immediately lost it. Four days without Curtis Biddicks cock was some other worldly hell for him.

“Oh you feel amazing, darlin’.” Curt whined out grabbing onto Ken immediately as he began moving himself on his cock, “You’re such a gorgeous boy my beautiful, beautiful angel.” Curt stared up at the halo of morning sun swirling around Ken’s curls. Curt left a hand on his hips sliding his hand grabbing onto his cock.

“Oh hell,” Ken almost tumbled forward onto Curt but quickly caught himself on the bed frame.

“Must’a really liked that one?”

“Yes, sir.”

Curt let a wide, curling, devious smile enter into jerking his hand up on Ken’s cock again, “Oh, oh.” Ken stuttered out pushing a hand out against the bed frame.

“Mhm, you like that you little slut?” Curt growled pushing his hips into Ken’s as he sank down again. Ken threw his head back with a grunt as he finally let his body collapse forward onto Curt. His forearms resting on his chest, rocking his ass back and forth in attempted movements.

“Oh my god…Curt.” Ken whimpered into his chest, mouthing at him and nipping, his hips rocking. Curt almost balls deep inside of him right when he felt Curt hit his spot, “Please keep going. Mhm…”

“Oh you asked so nicely for it, who am I to deny you your orgasm?” Curt bucked his hips up causing Ken to feel the white, hot tension in his stomach tighten arching his back as he clenched his teeth together. “Come on, let me see your pretty eyes.”

Ken pushed his hips back hard as Curt grabbed Ken’s jaw forcing him to make eye contact. “So fuckin’ gorgeous and it’s all just for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Curtie. Oh my god.” Ken could barely form words moving his hips back and forth his cock in Curt’s hand. The white substance seeped from his tip, “m’ so close, daddy.”

“What was that, baby?”

“Daddy, I’m so close.” Ken felt the hot tears pricking his eyes, grabbing onto Curt’s shoulders and smashing his face into his collarbone.

“Do you want me to,”

“Please, oh my god, please!” Ken cut him off sinking his nails into his shoulders leaving little crescent moon indents.

“Cum for me you beautiful little whore.” Curt growled into Ken’s ear, the other releasing all over his hand, his body going rigid.

“I fucking love you, Kenny.” Curt murmured, filling Ken with the warm substance, Ken repeatedly clenching down into him his mouth agape. Ken laid on Curt’s chest while he rode out the aftershocks, Ken slowly mouthing at Curt his pink lips making a soft hum against him.

“I love you too,” Ken smiled. He felt literal euphoria. The sun lightening them golden, Curt’s soft skin on his cheek, and his big calloused hands on his hips. He felt like he was in heaven and he wanted to stay here forever.

Then the loud howling from outside the door started, “It’s your turn to let him out.”

“It’s my birthday!” Ken broke a wide smile on his cheeks and gently slapped Curt’s chest. He rolled off of Curt and watched him sit up and grab for his prosthetic. “Thank you.”

“Hm?” Curt turned, raising an eyebrow at Ken.

“For the sex.”

“It’s your first birthday present,” Curt stepped into his prosthetic and placed a kiss on Ken’s forehead.

“Well, unless it’s Barry Keoghan I don’t know if anything will be better than that…” Ken rested a hand on his chest and held a hand out for Curt.

“I can do the impression but I don’t see the resemblance.” Curt kissed Ken’s knuckles and grabbed for his boxers. Ken started giggling but quickly interrupted by Humvee starting his barking again.

“I’ll be right there Hums.” Curt tripped over himself putting on the boxers and caught that door handle before he could fall.

“Be careful.”

“Love you, oh and.” Curt stopped leaning on the door frame and tapped it, “Happy birthday my angel.”

#masters of the air #mota #curt lost his leg in this au bc military #instead of dying guys!!!#hs au #but they’re grown up #modern au #curtis biddick #ken lemmons #curtis/lemmons #curtis x lemmons #humvee the dog #ken has a daddy kink

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sweaterkittensahoy · 30 days

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Hey, you wanted a more devastating version of that scene right

He drinks his coffee down fast. He goes into the crew chief office to check the weather, and then he hops in a Jeep to get to work. He slams on the brakes when he spots the last fort on the runway. One that shouldn't be there. Next to a Jeep that should also not be there. He nearly falls out of his Jeep to run towards the fort. It can't be. Oh, god, it can't be. And then Egan tumbles out of the hatch, reeking of whiskey and sweat, and Ken can't breathe. He's seen Egan drunk before. But this isn't drunk. This is. Ken has a sudden, sharp memory of his granddaddy's death when he was twelve. Of his granny on the day that it happened. The way she went still and quiet in a way he'd never seen from her, though she'd always been poised and reserved. Grief. Ugly, unstoppable grief. Egan stares at him, and words tumble from Ken's mouth before he can stop them. "You okay, Major? We're all going to miss Major Cleven, Sir." "Fuck you, Lemmons," Egan says, the words oddly sharp for a man who can barely stand up. "I wouldn't say that shit to you if Rosie went down." Ken doesn't know he's swinging until he feels his fist hit Egan's jaw, and then the pain of it shocks him back into the present. He goes very still. Egan's bent double, hands on his knees, his cigarette still smoking on the runway. "Oh, fuck," Ken breathes out. Egan spits onto the runway. He reaches down and picks up his cigarette. He sticks it back into his mouth and works his jaw back and forth. "I–" Ken goes quiet and still when Egan slings an arm around his shoulders. "Weather report," he says as he presses his fingertips to his jaw. Ken stares at him for a moment. Egan doesn't look at him, just walks him a few steps away from the fort. "Supposed to clear up," he says. "Oh, good," Egan says. He takes his arm off Ken's shoulders and tosses his cigarette away. He runs a hand through his hair. "You punch like someone I used to know, Lemmons," he says. Ken doesn't know what to say to that. "Want a ride, Major?" he asks because Egan's circling his Jeep, and it's the kind of offer a Sergeant makes to a Major. "Nah, I'll be all right," Egan says as he steps into his Jeep. "You sure, Sir?" Ken asks. Because Egan's drunk and grieving and just took a punch to the face, and Ken's no braggart, but he knows the strength in his arms. "Don't worry, Kenny," Egan says, "I don't even feel it." Ken's stomach goes cold as he watches Egan drive off. All he can think about is that Egan's clearly going up today, and Robert's going with him. He wonders if it's his turn to lose the love of his life.

#rosielemmons #fic #wip #writing #masters of the air #sorry not sorry #kenny's fucking going through it okay

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ailendolin · 2 months

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Broken Things - A MotA Fic

Title: Broken Things [AO3]

Characters: Rosie Rosenthal, Ken Lemmons & John "Winks" Herrmann

Summary: After the events of Part 5, Rosie and Ken talk.

A/N: Spoilers for Part 5. This is based on the characters portrayed in MotA, not the real people the characters are based on.

————

Broken Things

“Later, Kenny.”

It’s dark by the time Rosie remembers the exhausted promise he made earlier that day. The last thing he wants to do right now is get up and leave the warmth of his bunk but the devastated look on Ken’s face keeps flashing through his mind and he knows he can’t leave this until morning. So he swings his legs over the cot, pulls on his boots and jacket and makes his way to the airfield. When he doesn’t find Ken among the rest of his crew, dread joins the guilt churning in his stomach.

“He’s still at it,” Winks tells him around a yawn. He nods over his shoulder towards the impenetrable darkness where Rosie knows Royal Flush, or what’s left of it, is standing somewhere off the runway, hidden by the night. Winks rubs a tired hand down his face and sighs. “Today’s been rough for him.”

No shit, Rosie thinks. Today’s been rough for all of them. He can’t help feeling he’s somehow made it worse for Ken, though, even though he knows he’s done nothing wrong. They’re not supposed to talk to anyone before Interrogation. But here, standing in the dark where Winks’s worry is highlighted by the shadows dancing across his face, Rosie thinks he could have been kinder about it all and regrets that he wasn’t.

He thanks Winks with a friendly pat on the shoulder and sets off into the dark. The night is quiet around him as he makes his way down the runway and so is he, so when he comes to a stop just at the edge of the faint glow Ken’s lamp radiates, Ken doesn’t notice him. Royal Flush, riddled with more holes than Rosie can count, somehow manages to look even worse now than it did in broad daylight, and Ken isn’t looking much better. He’s usually a sight to behold around a bomber – confident, capable and sometimes downright brilliant in the way he’s able to fix a dozen issues all at once and under more pressure than any kid his age should ever experience. He makes his work look easy, and he often does it with a smile on his face.

Ken isn’t smiling now. He’s working on one of Royal Flush’s engines with a deep furrow between his brows that looks wrong and out of place on his bright, young face. It’s not that intense look of deep concentration Rosie has seen him wear before, the one that makes his eyes look sharp and alight with focus. It’s one of bone-deep exhaustion; the result of too many hours spent trying and failing not to feel anything. And Rosie hates himself for being the one who’s put it there.

He allows his gaze to drift away from the shadows that can’t quite hide the way Ken’s hands are trembling to the remains of his plane for a moment. Rosie’s no mechanic but even he can see that Royal Flush’s done for. It’s a miracle they managed to get the bird home at all and yet Ken’s here, doing his best to get this huge piece of scrap metal fight-worthy again. Because that’s what he does: fixing things. Only there’s nothing to fix here and Rosie doesn’t understand why he would waste his time on Royal Flush when there’s enough work to be done down the runway where Winks and the rest of his crew are.

Then Ken sniffs and wipes his eyes on his sleeve, and all Rosie can think is, Oh, as the puzzle pieces fall into place. For the first time he realises how difficult all of this must be for Ken – fixing the planes again and again and again until the inevitable happens and they don’t return. Rosie is no stranger to loss but he’s never had to fix Cleven’s plane in the nick of time only to find out hours later that this moment of brilliant success resulted in Cleven being gone. He’s never had to watch the ripple effects of his own actions play out across Major Egan’s face and fail to stop him from following Cleven into the unknown.

Ken had and Rosie can see how heavily it weighs on him, can almost hear him think, If I hadn’t fixed that damn plane in time, Major Cleven might still be with us, and so might Major Egan. The guilt he bears shows in the way he’s blinking a little too rapidly before he growls out, “Goddammit!” through clenched teeth when one of his hands slips and something clatters to the ground, the sound almost unbearably loud in the silence.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still and hold its breath as Ken stands there with his head and shoulders hanging, breathing heavily. Then he pushes the heels of his hands against his eyes and lets out a wounded noise that goes straight to Rosie’s heart.

Before Rosie knows what he’s doing, he’s stepping into the circle of light.

“Hey, Kenny,” he says softly, and the greeting sounds almost like an apology.

Ken sucks in a sharp breath and looks up. “Lieutenant.”

Exhaustion is written all over his face in the same way Rosie knows it was written across his own earlier today when he stepped off the plane. It makes him wonder if not being out there, if not knowing is perhaps worse than being high up in the sky and seeing the horrors with his own eyes. He might not be able to shake off the images when he goes to sleep at night, but at least there’s little doubt in his mind regarding what happened. Ken on the other hand – he has nothing but his own imagination to make sense of it all. He’s left with vivid what-ifs and hopeful maybes to find some semblance of closure, and right now the sheer horror of all that uncertainty is staring up at Rosie from tired, sunken eyes.

“Sit with me,” Rosie says.

It’s a gentle request, not an order, and Ken follows it wordlessly. They settle down side by side on the cold tarmac and look out into the night. Their backs are to the plane. Neither of them needs a visual reminder of what Rosie is about to say.

He’s searching for the right words, the right way to tell this gruesome tale when–

“Sir?” Ken asks. The single word trembles in the dark like an autumn leaf clinging to a tree. He sounds scared, and when Rosie looks over at him, he doesn’t see the competent mechanic he’s grown to admire since he came to England but a boy, lost and out of his depth in a world that seems to be shaped by grief and loss these days. With his legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, Ken looks so terribly young that all Rosie can think is, It’s not fair, even as he begins to talk about Münster.

He tells Ken everything; every gory detail, every painful truth, every uncertain fate of their friends. Rosie owes him that, even if it’s brutal. By the end of it all, Ken has curled in on himself and made himself small. It tugs at Rosie’s heart.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he finishes quietly with a sideway glance because he is, rules or no rules.

Ken doesn’t look at him when he says, “I understand, sir.”

His voice sounds as hollow as his eyes look and Rosie doesn’t know what to do about that, doesn’t know how to fix this because Ken’s the one who fixes broken things, not him. But Ken looks just like Royal Flush behind them does, damaged and broken beyond repair. It’s wrong in a way Rosie can’t put into words, and he suddenly wishes Winks was here because Winks is like Ken, someone who makes things whole again, and he knows Ken in a way Rosie doesn’t. Rosie’s sure he could help, or would at least know what to–

Ken’s breathing hitches.

“I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” he confesses in a whisper. Shame colours both his face and voice when the last word catches on a sob. It’s nothing like Michael’s outburst earlier – “That’s the last fucking time I’m going up!” – where frantic anger and terror were the driving forces behind every word. Quiet, overwhelming sorrow bleeds from Ken’s confession, and Rosie has to close his eyes for a moment as it washes over him.

Taking a deep breath, he opens them again and reaches out to squeeze Ken’s shoulder.

“That’s okay,” he says even though he knows it’s not and won’t be. Unlike him and his crew, Ken won’t leave for a flak house tomorrow. Rosie might have as much choice in leaving as Ken has in staying but that doesn’t change the fact that he will get a change of scenery in a few hours and Ken will not. Ken will be left behind, just like always, and Rosie hates how helpless either of them are to change that. If he could, he would trade places with Ken in a heartbeat.

“I feel like a coward,” Ken admits quietly. He sniffs and looks up at the stars. “I’m not even up there like you guys are and yet here I am, falling apart over nothing.”

“Hey,” Rosie says softly and pulls him against his side. “It’s not nothing, Kenny, and you’re not a coward. On

the contrary: I think you’re the bravest of us all.”

Ken snorts wetly and Rosie pretends not to notice when he turns his face into his shoulder and silently begins to cry.

He looks out into the dark instead, listens for the owls, the rustle of leaves, the faint squeaks of mice scurrying through the grass not far off from where they’re sitting. It’s peaceful, almost hauntingly so. If he squints just a little, he can see Major Egan in the distance, laughing at something Major Cleven said. There’s Bubbles behind them, smiling as Crosby hands him something Rosie can’t make out. Meatball is running between them, wagging his tail and barking in excitement after he drops a tennis ball at Major Cleven’s feet.

He blinks and the vision is gone. What remains is Ken, falling apart so silently Rosie wouldn’t even know it’s happening if he didn’t feel the sobs Ken desperately, valiantly tries to swallow. He holds him, and he waits until Ken draws in one last shuddering breath and pulls away. They share a smile – one small and self-conscious, the other warm and reassuring – before Rosie gets to his feet. He looks at the tools strewn across the ground under the engine, and says, “Leave it till tomorrow, Kenny.”

This time, it’s an order, albeit a gentle one. Ken just sighs and takes the hand Rosie’s offering him. “Yes, sir.”

He wipes at his eyes again before he picks up the lamp, and together they head down the runway in silence, back to the tent the mechanics are using as shelter whenever they’re called to work in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning. Winks is waiting for them and not even trying to hide the look of relieve when he sees them emerge from the darkness. He smiles, warm and bright, and even though Rosie would have preferred for him and Ken to come back with him to the barracks where proper cots and heating are waiting for them, he does not protest when Ken stumbles past him with a faint, “Goodnight, sir,” and vanishes into the tent.

He shares a look with Winks. “Make sure he gets some rest, Sergeant.”

Winks nods, the smile on his face dimmer than before but still present. “Will do, sir. Thank you for looking after him, and for bringing him home.”

It’s an odd choice of words, Rosie thinks as Winks bids him goodnight and follows Ken into the tent. But when a soft question cuts through the silence – “Are you all right?” – followed by a pause and then a gentle, “C’mere,” he begins to understand that for Ken and Winks and the other mechanics, Thorpe Abbotts has become just that – their home – and they each other’s family. They have their own kind of bond, a bond Rosie isn’t privy to. And that’s a good thing, he thinks as he turns away and heads back to the barracks. Because even when he’s gone – when, not if because he knows better than anyone that the odds are not in his favour here – Ken will have people looking out for him. He won’t be alone, no matter how bad things might get, and it’s that reassuring thought that finally allows Rosie to sink down onto his cot and fall into a blessedly dreamless sleep on this fateful cold October night.

#rosie rosenthal #ken lemmons #john winks herrmann #masters of the air #mota spoilers #mota fic #my fic

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shoshiwrites · 2 months

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Hi!! I would like to request the print “not realizing they are holding hands until someone points it out to them” OR “holding hands to pull someone away from something” from your prompt lists for Bucky and Jo. There were so many good ones I could not choose 😅 I hope I did this right. I love them together and your writing!!

Thank you so much, sweet anon! 🥺 That means so much. You absolutely did this right! I've actually got your first prompt in my inbox already, so keep an eye out for that at a later date! <3 Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC — more here, including prompt lists. From this list, "grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back from something."

“Coffee, Miss Jo?”

Lemmons makes his coffee on a little gas burner out on the strip, the kind you can stand a spoon straight up in for the grounds. The two guys working beside him wrinkle their noses. She’s heard Cleven refer to it as motor oil, to which Egan had made some crack about how Buck would take all the sugar in a fifty mile radius for his, if he could.

The village kids at Lemmons’ elbow had looked to him in confusion. “There’s something wrong if your motor oil looks like this,” she recalls him saying, pointing to the color and slurping it down with satisfaction.

It smells a little like gasoline, and looks like the coffee her friend Vicky’s family serves after meals, in prettier cups. Brewed with sugar and a little cardamom, Jo figures it won’t be brought to mind tonight.

“Thanks, Ken, I’m alright.”

Miss Jo, Ken. They’re casual out here in the flatlands.

She watches through the open door as the midsummer day fades out of the sky. That must mean it’s late. The door gets closed. She checks her watch, the olive canvas against her wrist. Late.

She’s expecting a call from Kay, later, about Kay’s reporting trip to Ireland.

There’s plenty to write about out here — too much, maybe, the flak holes and the cans of paint, the bloodstains, the dirtied hands. Nineteen years old. Ken wears a little puffed heart on a chain, the silver tone catching the light. From his wife, the girl in the snapshot tacked to the board on the wall.

She wonders if profiles like the ones she writes make it better or worse.

She wonders if she could sneak into the mess, sweet-talk herself into a better cup of coffee and betray the one she was just offered. Her hair smells a little like grease.

Maybe she ought to be gracious. She’s got plenty to do tonight, anyway. Sleep has been scarce, why not let it stay away a little longer?

“If you can spare any, actually-”

He looks up from the little operation, his face brightened, a curl loosed above his brow. “Sure thing.”

“‘M not driving you over to Redgrave,” says a voice from behind her. “When you start seein’ stars.”

Egan’s swinging the neck of a beer bottle between his knuckles, the liquid sloshing as he gestures.

Ken hands her the little steel cup, the walls dotted with grounds. “Evening, Major.”

“Good evening, Kenny.”

She peers behind him, but doesn’t see a jeep. They hadn’t heard one pull up, either.

“Just makin’ the rounds,” he says, when he notices her looking at him. She makes a noncommittal expression. “Nice night.”

It is, still pleasantly warm, with that little bit of coolness to the air. If there were any fairness in the universe a slow band would be playing, and the shelters dismantled brick by brick. Rendered useless.

“I should stop bothering the corporal here,” Jo says.

“Hey, now, you’re not bothering anyone.” Kenny smiles patiently, and she knows he’s lying.

“You’re very nice to humor me.” Beside her, the major nods.

She takes a sip. Very strong. Her mouth twitches, just a little.

“I told you!” he says.

She swallows. “My friends always tell me I’ve got a shitty poker face.”

Egan laughs, the kind of laugh that comes from hearing her curse, still. “They may be right about that.”

She sets down the cup with something of an apology, sure that someone else will drink it to get through the next few hours. “Thank you, Ken, but I think if I finish that I might start tasting radio waves.”

He cracks a smile, and the light makes shadow, makes the dark circles under his eyes even darker. “Alright.”

“C’mon, Captain. Let’s let ‘im get back to work.”

She starts to turn. “Ken, get me her parent’s address and I’ll make sure they get a copy of anything that runs,” she says. “Fonda’s.”

He nods, wiping his hands. “Yes, ma’am.”

To Bucky, as they walk out, she says, “that’s my line.”

The sky outside is a dark, dark blue, like glazed tile, the trees cut-paper silhouettes.

They’d trapped the light behind them with Kenny, in the outbuilding, behind the black paint on the windows. “You cold?” She shakes her head.

“You see that?” he asks, pointing. “Venus.”

“Awful bright.” She hopes she sounds appreciative. The moon shines on the horizon.

They walk, until they sit, near the line of trees.

“Pittsburgh, right?” he says. “Smoky City? You see many stars there?”

“Didn’t even know ‘em, ‘til I moved east. And even then. Had to drive out to see them.”

“How’s all this, then?” He gestures — the clear sky, the low buildings. Norwich in the distance is dark. She wonders where they run, if a raid starts.

She inhales, knows he can hear the sound of it. “It’s beautiful.”

He tips the bottle towards her, the last few glugs. “Sorry, don’t know why I didn’t bring two.”

“Don’t waste it on me,” she says. That relentless demand. The churn of it. She can’t think about it too long.

He holds it out to her still. “Don’t hurt my feelings, Josephine.”

It’s better than Lemmons’ rocket fuel, at least. His fingers brush her palm. The lip of the bottle is wet from his mouth, from the beer. She takes a sip, meets his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Always liked the stars,” he says. Like he knows it’s a silly thing, like saying you like the sun, or the moon. But there’s something quiet in it too. “Had a chart, as a kid.”

“With the constellations?”

“Yeah. Orion’s Belt. Ursa Minor. Andromeda.” It’s like he’s dusting them off, the names on his tongue. Like digging out a star-map from the back of the closet. “Cygnus. Cepheus.”

“What are we looking at now?”

“Hell,” he smiles, big and wide at the sky. “I’d need the map.”

He must not be flying tomorrow, she thinks.

Can you see them that much closer? she wants to ask. Up there? But they don’t fly at night.

“‘S a nice excuse though,” he says.

“For what?”

“Putting my arm around a pretty girl.” She wants to tell him that they’ve started writing her at the paper. Families. They don’t even know where she is, just England. That they think she knows something.

She tries to laugh. “Only if you know what you’re looking at.”

“Small detail. Unimportant.”

If the universe were fair he’d be on the lake shoreline, with a fire, or buying ice cream, or taking a pretty girl on a date.

She brushes off her trousers even though they’ve only been sitting in the grass, making to stand. The call from Kay.

“Hey,” he says, and it sounds so tired against the night sky. Tired, tender, reaching for her. His hand around hers, and she stumbles back to the ground, his legs, his lap.

“Oh!” She’s braced herself with her palms, either side of him. A quiet huff, a laugh. “You could’ve just asked me to stay.”

“Thought I was-” he starts. “Sorry about that.”

The breath in her chest feels shaky. She can smell the hops on his breath, and the remnants of Barbasol, geranium and moss. “You’ll need more than that to convince a girl.”

The kiss he plants on her lips might be a start.

#masters of the air oc #mota oc #bucky egan x oc #anonymous #shoshi writes #jo's tag #motaverse #i feel like i should start titling these #<3 ken <3 #ready to spot my typos in 3....2....1....

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