[PAIRING] Mortar Boys (Skip Muck, Don Malarkey, and Alex Penkala) x Reader
[PROMPT] If one gets a kiss, the others have to have it, too.
tw// 16+ for descriptive kiss scenes and more mature themes
"All right, all right," you snorted, tenderly rubbing Skip Muck's chin. You gave him one last light peck on the lips before turning to Don, who had a look of utter want and appreciation at how you kissed the other man. "I'm getting to you, too, Donnie."
Turning more towards him, you accepted Skip's arm staking its claim around your shoulders, its owner's hand settting on your collarbone after he fished out a cigarette and tucked it into his mouth. Penky instinctively took out his lighter to light his friend's tab, all smooth with it, as always. He ghosted his hand over your thigh before he withdrew to relax next to Don, who impatiently waited for you to give him his own set of kisses.
“You and Penky will both get your turn, boys.”
“Just making sure, Baby.”
“Mmmhmmmm, sure.”
Rolling your eyes, you leaned back into Skip’s embrace and crooked a daring finger at the grinning man in front of you. He expectantly followed your cue and readied himself for your reward, eyes expectantly closing as he got closer and closer. Instead, he was met with a conniving giggle and a digit chiding him on his lips. What else could he do but play along and give a playful nip at your finger? Your ploy was as weak as your defenses when he took initiative and swooped in to taste you the way he longed for all damned day.
He took his time with it, kissing you softly at first, teasing nibbles here and there, making you gasp and follow his lead. Had a confident hand snake up your side, bringing goosebumps up along your arm where he asserted his presence. And then it wasn’t so much of a light reward as much as it was a full conveyance of his need, his hunger, his desire for a show for his boys, and it sure was a show, all right. One that the other two men eagerly watched, their drinks and cigarettes being poor distractions for their itching mouths and eyes.
You couldn’t tell how long he’d taken you for a ride. Just that you were treated to an experience that had you in a complete haze, and your condition had nothing to do with the emissions from all the lit tabs around you all in the bar. Had nothing to do with the liquor and dim lights and the saucy music from the Victrola. But it had everything to do with the four of you sitting together on the couch at the back, shrouded in darkness and daring and intimate tension that mounted higher and higher as the days passed. It had everything to do with a kiss that had you winded as the two of you broke apart, a low whistle coming from Muck at the heated conclusion.
“Damn,” Penky uttered, taking one final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the ashtray on the coffee table in front of you all. He scrubbed at his mouth in masculine anticipation at what was to come. “You good, Brother?”
“Could go for more, but I could wait for seconds” was his response from Malark, and Alex chuckled at that. He raised his tankard and tipped it in agreement, downing his entire drink in one go before setting his gaze on you. He raised his brow and gave you a dastardly grin.
“Baby, I’ve been the most well behaved out of us all.”
You blinked yourself out of your stupor and cocked your head. Regaining some semblance of poise, you returned his flash of teeth and noted how Don nonchalantly placed his hand on your upper thigh, the other now around your shoulders. Skip had generously allowed his friend to assume the position, and without a break in his movements, he slid your body on top of his lap, which he conveniently oriented to face Penkala. Pride and the budding passion of the moment prevented you from exercising propriety in the form of vocal protest at the blatant display of dominance.
Instead, you were the one who eagerly waited impatiently. There, you sat, in Don Malarkey’s firm hold, situated in a way that presented you as an offering more than a reward, and you wanted Alex’s kiss as your own boon. To hell with poise.
“C’mon, Penky. Aren’t you gonna get your reward?”
“Now, now, who’s the impatient one?” Don teasingly stated, gently tweaking your nose. “Thought us boys were the naughty ones.”
You blew a raspberry and shrieked in laughter when you ducked his mocking attempt at stealing another kiss. The sudden sound made several of the other patrons at the bar turn to look. You should’ve been more embarrassed than what you felt, but frankly, with everything that you all survived this past week, you couldn’t really care, anymore. The few seconds of attention were nothing compared to what was going on back here, that was way more reward than risk.
Most of the patrons were the rest of the Easy Company joes, anyway. Them and their...well...throngs of both men and women, so scandal was one of the last things considered here. After all: It was after duty, after hours, and after when good, sensible people took leave, and the gritty Americans with too much gall stayed behind.
Who the hell cared if and when things got carried away? Not especially when the drinks were flowing.
"Here you go, Baby."
"Awww, thanks, Skip."
You helped yourself to a pull of fresh beer, courtesy of Skip, who held his tankard to your lips, before enjoying your very comfortable seat. From the corner of your eye, you caught Babe Heffron's eye, and he paused as he looked at you, speaking to Bill Guarnere about something before tipping his head all with a sardonic smile. Bill looked up from his turn at shooting pool and winked, wagging his brow in suggestiveness. You certainly didn't miss Joe Toye nodding at you all before he was once again engulfed by a horde of women who were desperate to get to “know him better”.
Should you be mortified? Maybe. Did you, once again, care? No, not really. Not when Alex was suddenly very, very close, and he seemed fascinated with how you jumped under his steady touch on your knee. More distracted than anxious, and definitely more in the mood for more than you bargained for.
"Don't embarrass me, Donnie." You pouted in jest and pressed your back to his front. "I want my reward, and I want it, now."
"You heard our boss," Penky said with a chortle, his eyes twinkling with a racy edge that had you purring. "I'm not one to disobey."
"Gimme, then."
"Of course, Baby. Of course."
And now, you were the one without the means to taunt, because you were desperate for the carrot on the stick with how light he was with his lips on yours. Brushing, then withdrawing when you leaned up for more, then delving in with the most minute amount of delicious tongue. He made you crave it, want it so bad that you tried to push your body into his, but Malark's stern hands collaborated with his dear friend, and had you rooted in place.
He kissed you at his own pace. This was his just reward, his turn. All three of your boys had different ways they liked to kiss you, and out of all of them, Alex had the patience of a monk. He savored it. Took his time with it. In fact, nothing ever phased him or persuaded him to derail off of his original agenda.
They said in battle he was different. Chop-chop. All killer, no room to spare for niceties. When he wanted shit done, shit would be done, and he wasn't afraid to rain extra mortars to prove his point. You'd seen him handle his fair share of machismo-related fights, especially after male ego and alcohol were involved in a crowd of antsy G.I.s, and juxtaposition was too weak of a word to summarize that side of him and Alex Penkala smiling into your frustrated incline for more.
"Shhhhhh, let me have you the way I want," he whispered into the warmth of your cheek, and you pleaded at him with your eyes he loved so much. "Baby, you can't cheat like that."
But you so could, though? "I'm not cheating. I'm making full use of my resources."
"You know how I feel about those pretty eyes. That's cheating."
"Yup, that's cheating," Malark faithfully chimed in.
"That's definitely cheating, all right," Skip also added, making you direct exaggerated glares at the two minions behind you. "What? It is. I'm sorry."
"You don't sound very sorry."
"Eh, yeah, well, you know how it goes."
And Penky chuckled in that way that was hitting your ears in the right spot, with that perfect amount of gravel and depth in his tone. You knew he did that intentionally. Or did he not know? No, there was no way that he didn't do that on purpose. There was no way he didn't know what that particular laugh did to you.
"Okay, and now, you're cheating?"
He cupped your cheek and hovered his lips a hair's breadth away from yours, tracing the softness of your skin. "I'm not cheating. I'm making full use of my resources."
"Hey—"
Lord, he could cheat all day if he wanted to. If that meant he finally kissed you deeply like this, with one hand buried in your hair, the other sliding to hold your back, maybe subjecting yourself to such torture was more than worthwhile.
Because it was more than worthwhile. No tameness, no more prelude. They were full-bodied kisses. Kisses that had you pressing up against his chest instinctively. Kisses that had you blissfully unaware of the world around you, unaware of prying eyes and appreciative murmurs and where the hell you were. Kisses that had you clinging onto the lapels of his uniform jacket, and you swore you were levitating in space and into his arms.
Kisses that lead to more and more kisses, and more and more and more, and much more. Until, ever so gradually, they came to a gentle end, and you thought you were weeping at its finale. You trembled at the last press of his lips on yours.
When you opened your eyes, you weren't sure what or who or when or how of anything and everything.
"Damn, okay. Just show off and set the bar high like that, huh, Penky?"
You think that was Skip?
"Geez, tough guy. Save some for the rest of us, Man."
Donnie?
"Don't know what you're saying, guys. Thought Skip was the most dramatic out of all of us."
Now that wasn't true, Alex! And you know it—
Well, actually...
Okay, so maybe Skip made Liberace look like a novice, especially tonight.
Still, though.
"I'm...I'm..." Blinking several times, you reoriented yourself in the room and paused. The boys continued to rib each other as you began to slowly collect your hibernating braincells after Penky put them all to sleep. You bemusedly sighed and settled down into Don's arms.
"Don't think I didn't time that shit. So Don got two minutes and forty-seven seconds, and Penky got a whole four minutes. Meanwhile, I only got two minutes and twelve seconds. Therefore," you heard Skip announce, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I deserve another round that lasts at least four minutes, to keep up with Penky."
What?
"Buddy, you know how this goes. You get a turn, then I get a turn."
"And so do I," Alex followed up after Malark, smirking as Don snorted while he sorted through his chest pocket and produced a Hershey's chocolate bar, which he gave you without breaking eye contact with the other men. You took it while still confused, but also not confused, and began to peel and eat the confection absentmindedly. "What one gets, the others get, too."
No brainer, it seemed. Skip flashed a grin in agreement at Penky and ruffled Don's hair, the man next to him scowling at the action when he got caught trying to sneak a kiss from you. "Looks like it's back to my turn again, then."
➜ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: suggestive content (if you squint), just the boys being flirtayyyy
➜ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: the humorous mortar boys LOVE to flirt with their favourite comrade
𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: yes @trenchkissingboys
𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ♬ careless whisper by george michael
𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄, 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 (1944)
“Hey handsome.” You heard a flirtatious voice whisper from behind you.
Skip Muck.
Your cheeks turned bright red, you knew it would be one of them— the mortar boys, the flirty three. They loved to tease you, especially though whispers; when you couldn’t do anything, they enjoyed watching your cheeks flush as you stumble over words.
“Hey Skip.” You nodded at the man in-front of you.
Luckily, the men surrounding you didn’t hear his scandalous statement, although you doubted he would care either way— out of the three boys, Skip was the most out there.
It seemed your reaction didn’t satisfy him, though; he soon plopped down next to you, an innocent to others’, but devious smirk to you, hanging on his face. You wondered what he was up to this time.
Your pondering was soon answered however, when you felt a feather light touch slide up your thigh. You stiffened immediately, face going beet red, whilst Skip merged into conversation with the rest of the guys— acting like he wasn’t sending you insane. His hand grazed your knee, edging further up as he rubbed circles.
You had to get out of there, you were sure you would combust if you couldn’t grip him and pull him to you right now.
You stood abruptly.
“I’m gonna head back to barracks, catch you guys later.”
A chorus of “see ya’s” head your way, but you couldn’t focus on them; all you could focus on was the emptiness where Skip’s hand had just been.
And as you walked out, no one seemed to catch the sultry look the mortar man gave you. Thank god.
You were speeding back to the barracks, face still red as a tomato, you were sure. You were soon cut off from your thoughts, though, when you rounded a corner and were met with the broad chest of none other than Alex Penkala.
Perfect.
“Well, hey you,” Penkala’s eyes switched when he noticed who bumped into him, “watcha’ doing out here?”
You stuttered slightly, he knew exactly what his best buddy had just done.
“Let me guess, Skip?” He asked knowingly, a mischievous glint in his eyes too.
The look alone made you nervous, they were toying with you— they knew just what they did to you, and they loved it.
You didn’t answer, but your face said it all.
“Hm,” He hummed, the sound making your stomach erupt, “I mean, I can’t say I blame him.”
Your gaze shifted to him, if they wanted to play a game, who were you to deny them that.
“Oh yeah, why’s that?” You teased, folding your arms and acting clueless.
Penk’s eyes turned hungry as his chesire smirk grew.
“Well, look at yourself.”
He stepped closer to you now, the tension clear as the summer sky, and you felt it.
“Well, I don’t have a mirror.” You tilted your head, testing just how far he’d go.
Alex huffed a short laugh, but it wasn’t humorous— you gathered that when he took a step closer, and his calloused fingers met your chin gently, but with meaning.
You swallowed, licking your dry lips as you just stared at him— your own eyes flickering to his plump lips for a split second, but he caught it.
He leaned down slowly, too slowly for your liking; until he finally pressed his lips to yours.
It was quick, so quick that it had your lips chasing his as he pulled away, so quick that it was over in a blink— no one would’ve seen that. Hopefully.
“Catch you later.” Penkala winked as he pulled away, sauntering off with cockiness, while you just stood still.
Your hands absentmindedly reached to touch your lips, it all happened in a simple second, you weren’t even sure it actually happened.
You managed to drag yourself away from the scene as Penkala’s figure shrank into the distance.
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself— so they would actually go through with their flirting.
Once you finally reached the barracks, you slammed the door open; no one would be here, they were all down at the hall, eating and drinking. However, you were surprised when you came face to face with Malarkey.
You huffed, you couldn’t say you were surprised. They had probably planned this.
“Malark.” You greeted, a certain look in your eyes as you stalked over, standing directly before him.
“Hey.” His signature smile stained his face, as he looked up at you from his sitting position.
Your heart fluttered as your stomach tensed.
“Watcha doing?” You asked, eyebrow quirking.
“Hm,” He tilted his head up in mock thought, “I wonder.”
“Just wanted to see my favourite guy on base.” Malarkey revealed.
“And here I thought Muck and Penk were your best buddies.” You hummed.
“Oh, they are. But you’re different.”
The door burst open, causing the two of you to jump apart.
“You fellas okay?” Guarnere asked, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion at the reaction from the pair of you.
“We’re good Ghonnorhoea.” Malarkey laughed, like it was nothing.
“Alright,” he drawled, “just came to grab more beer.”
You nodded, before grabbing a crate beside Don and passing it to Bill.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” Your lips pressed into a thin smile as you watched Bill walk away.
“Where were we? Oh yeah.” Malarkey smirked as he grabbed your back, still sat as he pulled you between his legs.
The tension was almost unbearable, until the door slammed open once again.
Muck and Penk. Of course.
“Hey guys!” Skip greeted first, wasting no time in walking towards you and Malarkey, dragging Alex along with him.
“Watcha doin’?” Penk curled his lips.
“Oh, not much.” Malarkey replied, but his look was one of silent invitation.
“Mind if we join you?” Skip quirked his brow.
You looked between the three men, a familiar feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach. You couldn’t wait.
“Of course.” You winked, so slightly that an average person may miss it, but they weren’t average.
Penkala and Skip chucked as they strutted closer to you and Malarkey, oh boy what had you gotten yourself into.
———
Your eyes fluttered open, and you were immediately confused. You felt cramped.
However, you realised why that was when you looked to the side, to be greeted with Malarkey’s snoring face— as you looked to your other side, you were then met with the closed eyes of Muck and Penkala. You smiled to yourself as your stomach erupted again.
It seemed their flirting had worked.
☆*:・ﾟ
a/n: omg this turned out AWFUL, i am so sorry, and when i finished i realised i didn’t even really do a part of the request (the flirting through whispers part), if you’d like me to redo please let me know!
Do this whenever you have the time to, for the love letters could i get Skip Muck, but if you don't write for him, then our one and only George Luz, no pressure whatsoever!!
ALEXI THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE!!!!
I've never written for Skip before but honestly I had so much fun writing this!!! Thank you for requesting (and for your patience!) and I hope you enjoy it!!! 🩷💕✨
8 May 1945
Alexi my beloved!
The Germans just surrendered! The war over here is OVER! They said we’re gonna get re-deployed to go fight in the Pacific, but if we have enough points we can go home! You get points from being wounded and how long you have been fighting, and guess who has enough points to come home to the person he loves most in this world!
IT’S ALEX PENK-
Sorry, Penk took my pen
It’s ME! I’m coming home to you Alexi! We can finally go to the soda shop together again! And play cards until 3 in the morning, and play pranks on those fuddy-duddies in your neighborhood.
So, I know that this would be better coming from me in person, but knowing I’m coming home, I can’t keep it inside any longer. Alexi, when I say I love you, I don’t just mean it as close friends. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since before I left for Toccoa, but I was too afraid to say anything. I didn’t want to say anything while I was in Europe in case anything happened to me.
I’m so scared to tell you this. If you don’t feel the same way, please just pretend I never wrote this, because to lose you as my best friend would hurt more than any hit I took during the war. Thinking about you has been the only thing keeping me going over here. My favorite memory to think about is one of the last days before I left - you and I were sitting on the roof of your house. The sky had more stars than I’d ever seen before. There was a point when I looked over at you, and you were looking up at the stars, you just looked so ethereal and wonderful. I knew then I had more than just a little crush on my best friend.
The way you are so unapologetically yourself, your compassion, your honesty, your love for shenanigans and chaos, the way we just click when we're together and the fact that you accept me just how I am are just a small part of why I have fallen in love with you. When I get home, I would be honored to take you out to dinner and a movie as more than friends, if that’s ok with you. Again, if you do not feel the same way, please just forget I ever wrote this. I would rather have you in my life as my best friend than lose you like this.
I love you Alexi, I’ll see you soon,
Skip
*scribbled at the bottom of the paper*
Please go out on a date with him, he won’t shut up about you.
Hi bestie!! I've been noticing a *SEVERE* lack of Skip content on Tumblr so if you're not too busy, could you please write a lil oneshot with Skip using the prompt "Wait, you think I'm cute?" please?? Thank you so much in advance!! 💖
Also this is a total side note but for some reason the song "Dandelions" by Ruth B just gives me major Skip vibes, like, a sunny day with your boyfriend who's also your best friend. Just adorable 🙈
I See Forever in Your Eyes
Warren "Skip" Muck x reader
A/N: Bestie, you are SO RIGHT 👏🏼 Skip is so underrated, and we're going to have to fix that 😉 Especially since I've been craving content for him ever since reading FOF and seeing him get into hijinks with Alix and Malarkey 😌 I hope you enjoy this one!
(As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️
Warnings: language, mentions of war
There’s nothing particularly amusing about asking someone to pass the shoe polish, but your bunkmate lets out a chuckle nonetheless as she tosses it to you.
“What’s so funny?”
Amy shakes her head, looking over your shoulder in the direction of the door. “Oh, nothing. Just that someone can’t seem to stay away from you – even when we’re in the women’s barracks.”
“Hiya, (Y/N)!” The bed beside you sinks as someone flops down onto it, bumping his shoulder into yours and almost causing you to drop the boots you’ve been diligently shining.
“Skip!” You scold. You smack him lightly on the arm, but there’s no malice in it. If anything, the gesture only serves to broaden the smile that already graces his lips. “You’re not supposed to be in the women’s barracks.”
Skips eyes widen. He glances around, placing a hand over his heart in mock shock as if he’s only just realizing where he is. “The women’s barracks?! I was looking for the latrine.” He shrugs. “Well, since I’m already here . . .” He leans back on the bed and flashes you a winning smile. “Guess who actually managed to keep their pass this week?”
“Talbert.”
“Nope.”
“Sisk?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Hmm . . . Well it certainly couldn’t be you for once, could it?”
“Ding ding ding – we have a winner!”
Now it’s your turn to feign shock. “No, really? However did you manage to hold onto it?”
“I was extra careful. But what about you? Did you manage to keep yours?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
Skip claps his hands together, a loud, happy staccato that echoes through the barracks. “Well then let’s cut a rug, jitterbug! We’re going dancing tomorrow night!” With that, he takes his leave from the barracks, leaving you smiling as you finish shining your shoes, and causing Amy to laugh.
“What’s so funny now?”
Your fellow paratrooper chuckles. “Oh, nothing. Just something about young love.” She laughs again when your boot slips out of your hand and tumbles onto the floor. She’s finished with her boots before you can collect yourself enough to ask what she means and to tell her that it’s not like between you and Skip.
No matter how much you may wish that it were.
--
Visiting English pubs on a weekend pass is far more fun than taking a weekend pass back in the States. Half of the fun is because hitting the town is different when you’ve got your polished jump wings displayed proudly on your chest and your pants bloused around your Corcoran boots. Strutting into a pub or a dance hall with an outfit that clearly proclaims I am a paratrooper – one of the elite! never fails to make things more interesting – whether because of the positive attention from the townspeople that lead to offers for dances and free drinks, or the negative attention from other service members that lead to gruff arguments and bloody noses. Never a dull moment with the right company in the right place.
As you push open the door of the pub and take in the sounds of music and laughter, part of you wishes that you were back in a dress like you would have been in the States. Then you could have done your hair and makeup and – even if for only a night – allowed yourself to pretend that you were a regular girl dancing with a handsome service member before he shipped off into combat. There’s still an elegance to showing off your uniform and impressing many with the fact that you are not only a paratrooper, but a part of the first female paratrooper program, though. It’s just different.
“(Y/N)!” A voice calls from across the pub. Through all the music and the jiving bodies, Malarkey has managed to spot your entrance. Hand clutching a drink and raised above his head to avoid a spill, the Oregon boy weaves through the crowd until he’s by your side. Your friend smiles, breathless. “Where ya been? We’ve been waiting all night!”
Playfully, you nudge his arm. “Awe, did you miss me, Malarkey?”
“Oh yeah, you know I missed my favorite dance partner.” In a single swig, he downs what’s in his glass and stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray on a nearby table. He offers you his hand.
“Oh no you don’t, Donnie Boy!” Skip slides between the two of you, ever present grin lighting up the room as he appears. “I do believe that I shall be having the first dance with lovely Private (Y/L/N).”
Malarkey takes a step back, hand over his heart. “Well Skipper, you could have at least had the decency to tell me that before I snubbed out my smoke.”
The look that crosses Skip’s face is one that you know all too well – he has an idea of some sort. The next thing that you know, he’s pushed you and Malarkey together and gives your friend a slap on the back. “Actually, you take this dance. I’ll grab the next one.” He recedes into the thicket of the crowd before you can question it.
A lively tune is struck up by the band, causing the energy in the pub to soar as you and Malarkey make your way to the dance floor, carving out a space for yourselves as you twirl and jump and laugh through the whole thing. You’re out of breath by the time that it ends, your cheeks sore from smiling so much. You applaud the band with everyone else as you wait for the next song to start.
“Alright, my turn,” Skip says, swaggering up to you and Malarkey. You’ve never understood how he manages to disappear and reappear from the crowd the way that he does, but he seems to fit in everywhere that he goes so well that you know it can’t be hard for him. He holds out his hand to you. “Mind if I cut in?”
“Not at all.”
The band’s next song starts up, much slower than the last. The mood of the crowd changes automatically, going from one of high energy and adrenaline to one of new love and desire as couples pair off onto the dance floor.
“Where did you go?” You question, casting a glance around the pub. “What lucky gal got that last dance with the pride and joy of Tonawanda?”
Skip chuckles. “Truth be told, no one did.”
“Oh?”
“No, I was too busy trying to request a song with the band.”
“And what song might that be?”
“This one.” Is it your imagination, or in the low lights of the pub, does your friend blush ever so slightly? Maybe he wonders the same thing about you as your hands grow warm against his. You might be in the dim lights and smokey atmosphere of the pub, but dancing with him feels like being surrounded by sunshine and cloudless skies on the perfect summer day. “I wanted to talk to you.”
There are better places to talk than the dance floor, but your heart is fluttering in your chest like a bird threatening to fly from the coop and you can’t find the words to question him. If the words would come to you, what would you even say?
“I’ve been thinking,” he pauses, like he’s waiting for you to crack the usual Thought I smelled smoke line that you, Penkala, and Malarkey are so apt to throw around. When your breath hitches in your throat instead, he bites his lip before continuing. “Fuck. I don’t wanna mess this up.”
“Mess what up?” Effortlessly, the two of you execute the spin that comes with the next line of the song. When you gravitate together again, like planets falling into alignment, you’re met with a worried expression on his face – something that looks unnatural on him.
The next few bars of the song press on while silence floats between you. Worry – or something akin to it – settles into the little atmosphere between you. You keep waiting for him to say more as Skip’s eyes dance over everyone and anything else in the pub besides you.
“You’re one of my best friends.” His voice is soft, his eyes are sincere; he’s never looked more serious. “I don’t wanna mess that up when I tell you that I feel differently about you than other girls.”
You stumble on the next step. He catches your waist with ease. If this is going where you think it’s going . . . But you would hate to assume, and to assume incorrectly at that.
Skip rushes on. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way. With the big jump finally coming up, I just wanted to make sure that you knew before we went, or else I would spend my whole life regretting that I didn’t tell you. And I know that might make the jump harder – “ He shakes his head, exasperated. “I swear I knew what I wanted to say when I started this.”
“It’s okay,” you assure him, your words bringing his eyes back to you. “I think it’s cute when you ramble.”
Standing so close, it would be impossible to miss the way that his breath hitches in his throat. “Wait, you think I’m cute?”
“Well yeah.” There’s no use in denying it. Not when he’s allowed himself to be vulnerable instead of brushing things off with humor like he normally would. And not when the jump is sure to be soon. He’s right: it would be hard to go about life full of regret and wondering how different things could have been if you had made a different jump – a leap of faith into the game of chance that is sharing your truest and most sincere feelings with someone that you have so many tender feelings of affection for.
“Not just when you ramble,” you admit, fully committing now, heart beating hard in your chest. “You’re cute, Skip. I’ve always thought so.”
A tentative smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Well I’ve always thought that you were stunning.”
On instinct, you lean forward and fix your head against his chest, just like all the couples on the dance floor are doing. His hand secures itself more firmly on your waist. The little world around you is something that you’ve only imagined a handful of times, and never for long – there’s hardly a private moment in the Army, and you’ve never allowed yourself to get your hopes up.
But experiencing the real thing . . . You pray that you won’t blink to wake up and find that it’s all been a dream.
“What do we do now?” You whisper.
He squeezes your hand. “Whatever you want. We can give it a shot.”
“God, yes.” His chest rumbles as he chuckles at your enthusiasm.
All too soon, the song ends. Couples all over the dance floor slowly come out of their amorous haze and applaud the band. You can feel Skip looking at you. You gaze back at him, not quite ready to break the spell that’s settled over the two of you.
There is a war going on. You don’t know where it will take you. But you’re a paratrooper, and risk taking is part of the job. No one can know for certain what will happen, or how long this new thing will last between you.
Looking into Skip’s eyes, though, you can see his answer: forever, if you’ll allow it.
about: first time writing something with skip! hope this one is okay 😭
warnings: natural body stuff!!
— skip going to the store to get you tampons. he texts you what ‘harpoons’ you want
— “you mean tampons?”
— “don’t you have to shoot ‘em up there like a harpoon?”
— him standing awkwardly outside the bathroom door yelling, “do you need any sanitary napkins in there?”
— he’ll give massages, cuddles, and french toast and sometimes (if you’re lucky) he will even clean the dishes (which he hates doing)
— not gonna lie, he seems the type to get timid around you because he never knows what mood you’re in
— him tip-toeing into the bedroom to grab something, thinking you’re sleeping but then you say, “skip, what are you doing”
— he SCREAMS “JESUS DON’T KILL ME”
— he’ll throw hershey’s kisses at you from across the room
— no but the sheer amount of puns
— you cannot tell me skip doesn’t enjoy those
— “a standing ovulation for you for making it through another day!”
— “a round of menopause, am i right?”
— sometimes he will annoy you but it’s because he’s so comfortable around you he shares EVERY thought that comes to him. he doesn’t realize you need your quiet and space most of the time
— “hey what about a tampon but it’s one of those surprise dinosaurs that grow in water? so when ya pull it out, you wonder, ‘will i get a stegosaurus or a velociraptor?’ only your cervix knows!”
— you laugh a little, but then ya gush blood, and then you get sad
— skip panicking as you’re crying and trying to comfort you with hugs and back rubs
— if needed, he’ll help you to relax enough to fall asleep by playing with your hair, rubbing your back, or letting you lay on top of him because the pressure counters the cramps
— him lending you his shirts, sweatpants, and boxers
— i have a feeling skip would be a grand cook and baker. he’ll get excited when you think you feel well enough for some food. his favorites to make are cornmeal pancakes, orange soda sherbet, and fluffy scrambled eggs
I never wrote a fanfic, but I thought maybe I should try something new. So I tried to write down my favorite part of a dream I had a few weeks earlier. Hope you like it. Maybe I'll write down the rest of this dream too, idk.
Can be read as some kind of skip muck x reader.
Y/n had a fun night, and perhaps a few drinks. She spent the night under bill guarneres supervision. Early in the morning she left, so she won't get caught being in the boys barracks. On her way back to her office she met skip. A storm is coming, so she took him to her office to stay safe. Well ... Things get a bit interesting after a little talk.
Tw: mention of rape, curse words
Words: 2,822
I'm no native speaker, so feel free to correct me. :)
I open the door of the barrack just a crack to escape as quietly and unnoticed as possible into the fresh morning air. I close the door carefully and look left and right to make sure neither Sobel nor Evans are around and catch me coming out of one of the barracks early in the morning. The sky above me is gloomy, densely hung with dark rain clouds that seem to announce a storm. I zip my jacket up to my chin to protect myself from the cold wind and unsteadily put one foot in front of the other to get to my small office before the rain starts.
I pass the wooden wall of the barracks on the right and am surprisingly greeted by Skip.
"Good morning princess." The cigarette between his lips bobs up and down as he smiles meaningfully at me.
"You startled me, Skip!" I hiss at him softly, which only widens his smile.
"Don't worry, I certainly won't tell Sobel about your … trip" He particularly emphasizes the word trip and waggles his eyebrows, after which I only shake my head.
"Oh shut up, Muck. It's not what it looks like." I explain before continuing my way. But my answer seems more like an excuse to him, because he pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning against and follows me.
He takes a big drag on his cigarette, holds the tobacco smoke for a few moments and then blows it into the damp, cool air in a dense cloud of smoke.
"It never is, is it?" I don't even have to look at him to see his wide and mischievous grin. The corners of my mouth twitch involuntarily, which I only try to hide by dramatically rolling my eyes.
"I drank too much last night and Bill didn't want me to go unnoticed that night. He let me sleep in his bunk.” I explain as I cautiously peek around the next corner to check for two certain officers I'd rather not cross paths with at this moment. On the one hand because I'm still relatively drunk due to the alcohol consumption and the lack of sleep to sober up and on the other hand because I couldn't explain what I have to do so far away from my barrack at this time.
"So you spent the night at Wild Bill Guarnere's, didn't you?" He smirks at me maliciously after emphasizing Bill's nickname. Without answering his question, I stumble back, the ground beneath my feet seems to tremble.
"What are you doing out here so early?" I finally ask my stalker, now leaning against the wall myself. Less for comfort, but more because I start to sway and get dizzy.
"Malark snores at an unbearable volume and I couldn't sleep." He shrugs his shoulders, stands in front of me and now also looks around the corner. “No one can stand that. And sometimes in the early morning there is a lot to watch. Like you sneaking out of the barracks. More drunk than anything else, I guess." He seems to have noticed my swaying because he gives me a questioning look. Before he could even form his question "Everything ok?" I nod and push myself off the wall. He carefully puts his hand on my upper arm and tries to support me if I lose my balance.
A muffled growl can be heard from far away. The announced thunderstorm will soon reach us, a few raindrops are landing on our heads as silent harbingers. The sky above us is getting darker and if I didn't know it's morning I'd say it was the middle of the night.
Skip makes a face. Apparently he's not too keen on going back to his barracks to a snoring Malarkey. But pouring rain and a storm doesn't seem like a great prospect either.
"Come on," I offer him after a moment's thought. He lowers his gaze back to me and raises an eyebrow questioningly. "You wanna stay out here and get wet?" I ask before he can ask what I mean. "Come on." I tug at his sleeve, giving him no choice but to follow me.
The thunder grows louder and the raindrops get thicker and heavier. We reach my barrack just in time to save ourselves in my dry room. While I unlock the door with shaky hands, he drops the glowing butt of his cigarette on the wet floor and stamps it out.
It's less of a barrack and more of a small wooden shack in which I have both my office and my bed, which is hidden behind a curtain. I take off my jacket and hang it over the desk chair. I don't notice Skip standing by the door, staring at the large, dark bloodstain on the floor. He's heard of the story, but I guess it's something else entirely to see the menacing remnant of it. Even though I tried a lot to somehow get the dried blood out of the wooden floorboards, I didn't make it. And now it rests there as a memorial and constant reminder of the rape.
After flopping down on my bed, I notice that he's still standing in the doorway. My gaze follows his and rests uncomfortably on the spot.
"I was told to put a rug over it." I try to release the tension with a casual saying and get him out of his thoughts. He looks at me, no trace of his typical smile left.
"I'm really sorry about what happened there." His voice is more like a whisper, but there is a slight note of anger in it that cannot be ignored. I cross my arms over my chest and just shrug to not let the whole situation get to me too much.
"It's not your fault. And Roe stitched me up, so everything's ok.", I reply dryly, but my fingernails dig into my upper arms at the thought of the day. Fragments flash in my mind, how he banged my head on the floor, over and over again until everything around me went black. How he hit me, kicked me, insulted me. How his grip on my neck tightened the more I tried to fight him and tried to scream.
My gaze is fixed on nothing as I mentally relive the moments until a movement pulls my attention back to reality. He stalks the spot as if it would pounce on him and wreak havoc if he gets too close. With a light tap on the mattress, I indicate to him that he can sit next to me on the small bed.
After he has also put his jacket over the chair, he follows the request and sits down on the end of the bed, leaning his back against the wall at which the bed is standing. Once he's settled on the bed, I lean back, legs bent to my chest, head resting against the wall, and I close my eyes for a moment. Due to the still existing alcohol level, the world around me is constantly spinning, so I open my eyes again, which gives me a little relief. I breathe in deeply, and out, and in again, the world around me becoming a little clearer and calmer with each breath.
"Skip?" I ask after a few moments, looking at the man sitting at the end of my bed, breathing in and out evenly. Without opening his eyes, he just answers with a "Mhm?" at the sound of his name.
"Can I ask you a question?" The corners of his mouth twitch up and pull his lips into his signature grin.
"You already have." I roll my eyes at his answer and have to suppress a smile myself.
"Do you really like me? I mean…” I clear my throat and try to sort the words in my head so they make the most sense and are understandable. "Do you really like me as a person, or just because I'm a woman you guys can lure into bed?" It's quiet again for a very long moment, his smile disappears and he looks at me a little dismayed.
"What?" is the only thing that comes over his lips after what feels like an eternity. Judging by the look on his face, he seems offended by my question. Before I can repeat it, before I can even open my mouth, he cuts me off.
“Of course we like you. I mean, surely there are some guys who just want to … you know? And are nice to you because of that. But, and I can say that for many men with certainty, the majority like you because you are just incredibly great. You're funny, you're good looking, you're a wonderful person and you have an incredible character. You take care of us even though that happened to you..." he waves his hand at the spot of dried blood on the floor "... and you're so loving to everyone you meet. I mean, personally, I wouldn't mind if you let me ask you out sometime." A cautious laugh escapes his lips and he looks at me, I return his smile. “But we like you like anyways. Not because you are a woman, but rather as a person. We like you as part of aus, even if technically you're not. Well, not officially by now." He lets his gaze wander through my 'office'. A desk at which I write reports, an eye test chart, a chair for the eye checks with a swivel table on which a slit lamp stands for further eye examinations and a suitcase with trial glasses and a number of trial lenses for eyeglass determination. So in and of itself it has its advantages as an ophthalmologist in the US Army to live on the camp site. At least I have my own room and don't have to listen to men snoring.
"I mean, Malarkey was even jealous last night," he adds with a grin, looking at me. "You and Bill seemed to hit it off and, oh boy, if he knew you spent the night in his barracks!" His grin spreads to a laugh and he tilts his head back. I have to laugh this time too. It's a funny thought, Malarkey jealous, his face probably as red as his hair as he watches Guarnere and I become friends, have a beer or two and laugh.
"We really, really love you," he summarizes his statement after our laughter has stopped and it's quiet again. "Some certainly more than others and some maybe a little more than what's good for them, but overall we really like you." He cocks his head to the side and looks at me. It takes me a little moment to think about everything he said before I close my eyes and let my head rest against the wall behind me again. It's getting quiet around us again, the storm in front of the door is getting stronger and makes the wooden walls shake. But the thought of a certain Donald Malarkey being jealous, having even encouraged me to be friends with Bill, given what had been an icy, if not suspicious, relationship between us, brings a smile to my lips.
"It's probably just the residual alcohol that's talking out of me right now, and I'm pretty sure I'll regret it once I'm sober, but..." I sit up straight again and look at him. "...you said that maybe some like me a little more than what's good for them. Who do you mean? Is there someone who would invite me on a date or something? I mean a real date and not just a date to end up in bed with me?” Instantly, Skip's eyes widen as if he's just realizing that he said something stupid.
"I didn't say that." He tries to save himself quickly but I shake my head.
"Yes, you have!" -"No I have not! You probably just imagined that. You said it yourself, you're still very drunk. You should actually sleep off your intoxication.” Skillfully he tries to distract from the topic but I won't let him.
"Come on, tell me who it is! Please Skip! You owe me that!” I beg him.
"No, I can not do that. He'll kill me if I tell you." He shakes his head to emphasize his statement.
"Aha! So there is someone!” I exclaim confidently. Skip narrows his eyes and shakes his head.
"No, there isn't!" He tries to save himself again, but the impatience and curiosity in me grew immeasurably with every second.
“Oh come on, Skip, tell me! I've already saved you from the storm, so I can save you from...whoever! Now tell me, who do I have to save you from?" I nudge his side with my toes impatiently to get him to look at me again. But instead of looking at me, he just flinches and leans sideways as if to move out of reach of my foot. My eyes instantly widen when I realize what I've just discovered.
"No!" he replies in a threatening tone and raises his index finger before j could even say a thing.
"You're ticklish!" I blurt out triumphantly.
"No I'm not! I'm not ticklish and now get your fucking foot away from me, woman!"
"Oh yeah, and how ticklish you are!" To underline my statement, I quickly sit down and lean forward to tickle him. Maybe with this simple but effective method of torture I can get him to tell me which of his friends might have a crush on me.
"That's not fair!" he lets me know in panic between a few laughs and tries to defend himself.
"It isfair! Tell me a name and I'll stop!” I demand, but he just shakes his head and tries in vain to suppress another laugh.
"NO WAY!" He realizes he can't stop me from tickling him, so he wraps his arms around his stomach to protect the sensitive areas from my touch. This only tempts me to bend over further and now tickle him under his arms.
"Stop it right now!" he begs as I move closer to tickle him better. I, on the other hand, throw my head back and only give him a diabolical laugh in response. When I lower my head again, I immediately regret it. The world around me starts to spin again, the head movement was too fast and I'm in danger of tipping forward as I can no longer keep my balance. Just before I can realize for myself that the world around me is shaking again, Skip grabs my upper arms. At first I think he just wants to support me to keep me in my upright position next to him. But then, unexpectedly, he presses his lips to mine and pulls me close to him.
It takes me a moment to realize what is happening, but the moment is just so perfect and it feels so incredibly good that I kiss him back.
Our lips slowly move to a silent rhythm that only the two of us seem to hear. The melody gets faster and faster and our lips adapt to the rhythm. He pulls me closer to him, almost pressing me against his body. And despite his very assertive demeanor, he still seems to be asking with every movement if I'm okay with that. As he deepens the kiss and runs the tip of his tongue gently over my lip, his hands slowly travel up my upper arms until they finally cup my face. His heartbeat is so strong, complementing the melody with every throb like a bass guitar thump. My hands seek support in his t-shirt and my heartbeat is almost audible. After a few moments we break the kiss to catch our breath. He rests his forehead against mine, our eyes still closed.
"Don't you dare think I fell in love with you," he tells me in a deep, hoarse voice before taking a deep breath. “The moment was just perfect. I couldn't help it."
"The same goes for you," I reply to his loose threat. "But, oh boy, you're an amazing kisser," I confess after my lungs have properly inflated. I slowly open my eyes again, my hands still buried in his shirt, his still cupping my cheeks.
"The same goes for you.", he repeats my answer with a big grin and now looks into my eyes too. "Don't tell that Mala-" he stops before he can finish the sentence as he sees my eyes widen at the mention of the name. "Fuck no," he whispers, leaning back in shock while I gape at him.
“Malarkey? Malarkey has a crush on me?” I blurt out after a moment, and he just shakes his head eagerly.
"No he is not! And if he has, you don't know that from me!"
a/n: oh hello. here is a little something that came to me based entirely off of a conversation I recently had with a friend. please enjoy, er, at least try not to cry? sorry im the worlds saddest fic writer lmao
Everything was just as you'd left it, which raised a bit of suspension. Your sister *had* to have invaded your unused room while you were away. You just knew she'd snuck in here to sing into your hairbrush and push the clothes in your closet every which way. But... nothing was out of place.
You eased onto the stool of your vanity, noticing the steam from the shower you just took, curl from the ensuite. The only thing that seemed out of place here and now, was you. That, and a tattered old photo you'd stuck into the mirror you looked toward. It was perhaps the newest item in your possession, though the photo looked old as time. It was of Skip, smiling during a random morning of another day at war. The photo was worn and wrinkled in places, from months of being crammed in your pocket and nights held tightly in your clutch. It was all you had of the man now.
When a knock came to your door, you didn't bother welcoming the company. You knew your sister would turn the handle and see herself in.
You watched fondly as she entered, creeping into the room with a smile. You let out a breathy, tired giggle as you watched the girl flop onto the end of your bed, her chin in her hands, her feet in the air behind her- settling just as she used to, just as you missed while so long gone.
As she settled, there was a question in your sister's gaze. So you turned in your chair all the way to shoot her a look that insisted she ask whatever it was. No one had really asked much of you at all, in your short time home. This both relieved and infuriated you.
But your sister... She'd always asked the sorts of questions everyone else was afraid too. She'd always gotten you to say what you really meant. You'd never been afraid of holding back from the girl. And finally, she spoke, with her gaze cast toward the corner of your mirror.
"Do you miss him?"
She only knew of Skip by what you'd written of him. And on one occasion, he was moved enough to add his own note in with yours, just for your sister; who he'd been so keen to meet, along with the rest of your family. He'd always asked after them, when he noticed letters from home in your frostbitten hands. He'd dream of the day he'd get to sit around the dinner table with you and everyone you loved. That day would never come. God, of course you missed him.
"I always will." You shrugged. Mixed among the fears and dreams that branched from your spirit, the gnawing of longing that lived in you for Skip was a fixture. It was apart of you now.
And softly, with more understanding and kindness than you might've thought her capable of, given her age, your sister implored you to go on about Skip.
You started off easy. You started by marvelling over the light you so often found in his eyes. Like there was a different, radiant world he seemed to be in touch with. Then you mentioned his curiosity and his jest. Both senses got him into trouble and kept others out of harm's way all at once. He was unlike any soldier or man you'd known in your years of drifting the earth.
And what was most incredible, what you still couldn't believe, were the times he chose to spend with you. The nights he went out of his way to include you in a round of darts. The days he sat at your side to share a joke or two, just for you to hear. You knew then, you were lucky.
"What he gave me... I was always grateful for. I never took a laugh for granted." You said. Because the simple possibility of losing those days of laughter was enough to strike fear into your very core. So you laughed without care. But you never really believed you'd lose Skip's giggle.
You had imagined waking up to a world where all you knew might be shot down, blown up. It was impossible not to let those thoughts cross your mind. But you never could truly think of losing Skip. He was a permanent installation in your mornings and nights, and thoughts of him never ended in your head. He was more alive than you'd known life itself to be, at certain points.
And... he still was, somehow. And it seemed fitting, for his loss to be so sudden. He didn't suffer or fight. He simply went away all at once. He left you and your friends faster than a blink. But his jokes were still told and his whisper still seemed to echo in your ear. And whenever someone mentioned the Niagara you didn't think of the place but instead of the smile Skip wore when he recounted stories he held nearest his heart.
Before you knew it, you were recounting as much. Rambling about the horror that lived within you, lingering still from that day. How you felt haunted, not by the man you loved, but by his absence. You'd never forget how you realized what had happened, when Roe sent Malarkey to find you. The soldier couldn't meet your eye's, and his brow furrowed while he opened his mouth, willing the news of Skip's loss to be spoken. Before he could say so, you knew. You just knew the man you'd made so many plans with had been stolen away before you'd gotten the chance to make good on a single promise.
With a stifled breath, you paused at realizing your babble. Your sister had asked, but whoever really wanted to hear such talk?
"Life is so cruel." Your sister cooed in a broken whisper after a pause settled in the room. And for two reasons you were moved to correct her statement. For one, so she might wear a little more hope in her eyes when considering what new mornings brought. And for another, because she was completely incorrect.
"Life is beautiful." You pointed, voice full and insistent. Life gave you Skip. And life kept his memory in rosaries and rivers.
"Death is the monster. Life is beautiful. And I'm glad to live it even if all I have of him now is what has already been."
Even though there were still days you awoke with a deep driving desire to get up and go to wherever he'd gone. You knew you couldn't. But you got to live on. You were granted the great unmatched honour of telling Skip's story over and over again.
God, you missed him. You always would. But there would always be one piece of your heart ever morphed by the soldier. You got to keep him close, after all.
