#but i didn't skip it this time and yeah. still as sad as ever

[lovelornnobodyknows]

epiphany is one of the saddest songs Taylor has ever written

[snekdood]

i just struggle to believe theres any ethical way to harvest meat. farm animal dying of old age? yeah. ok. sure. but farm animals aren't going to be perpetually dying of old age enough to fulfill the demand for their meats. you can make better and more convincing arguments to me for ethically harvesting eggs, wool and milk rather than meat.

[torchstelechos]

Do yall think about the ending of ISAT in any other characters POV? Cause I think about it so much, that must be buck fucking wild. Like, you get to Dormont after MONTHS of traveling with these people, you're feeling strong, you feel like you have a chance, so yall go separate directions to get everything done before the big day tomorrow and your buddy Siffrin goes to take a nap. You're like, ah! Classic Siffrin, so silly and nonchalant about everything, they never once thought we would lose. What a swell fella :). Then not even a full half a day later, more like a few hours later, he appears out of no where with a fucked up face and starts hitting you exactly where it hurts emotionally. No reason! You didn't do a fucking thing! They just fucking went for it! And now you're pissed cause that was a close friend of yours that you considered family, you're sad, you're mad, you dont understand what happened. You meet up with everyone at the clocktower early because apparently he did that to everyone! So good! Good! It's not just a you thing! You all talk it out and you all agree that maybe you should leave them behind tomorrow if they keep acting like this. Except. Except. They never came to the clocktower, they never came to talk to you about what happened and thats. Not acceptable. You need to understand what happened because after sleeping on it, why did he do that? They wouldn't ever do that to all of you, so something must have happened!

And then a Star appears.

And you learn exactly what has been happening behind the scenes but it doesnt make sense. But you know that your buddy just went to solo the house and you know they arent strong enough to do so, you know exactly what their level and strength and weaknesses are and the King is rock type! He's going to kill Siffrin if you dont go save them! So you start running through the house to go save them while the Star guides you, but the doors are all unlocked. There are ghosts everywhere. The hallways dont make sense. Something is broken, failing, and you are running out of time. so you climb up and up and up until finally you get to the final floor and then to the King's room expecting Siffrin to be a splat on the floor but. He's still alive, theres a chance! So you go and protect them from the King but uh, huh. The King is nearly dead? Siffrin almost solo'ed the King? A scissors type versus a rock type nearly won? And it was only a nearly and not a he won because Siffrin was frozen in time? What???? So you freeze the King, you save Siffrin, but they're injured and sick and have a fever so you try to take them to the head housemaiden to get healed but uh. Shes speaking nonsense??? Utter bullshit. Skipping, repeating, saying things out of order, and then she says you all can go home and everything falls apart around you.

Cause Siffrin? Yeah, your buddy who was being a tad bit of an asshole? And they just solo'ed the bad guy without you? Yeah, he's the last boss you need to beat actually. And they're huge! So big! You get ready for them to fight you, except he. Attacks himself. In front of all of you while crying. He's sad. They're hurting themself. You can not do anything but you start to connect the dots and you figure everything out. Then everything becomes normal again and they say what they wished for and hey! You wanted that too! So you hug them as he cries himself out and all of you are tired. That was a lot. They're craft tired and sick but they're okay. So you're happy and relax. They want to go back to Dormont, so you all go. Then THIS LITTLE ASSHOLE WALTZES OFF ONLY TO COME BACK INJURED TO HELL AND BACK???? He said he was going to go say thanks to that Star person, who you still aren't sure is a person but whatever, and then he comes back exhausted and clearly just used craft after being told not to?

And YOU STILL DONT KNOW HOW SIFFRIN BEAT THAT FUCKER AFTER SOLOING THE HOUSE, OR THE DEAL WITH THAT WEIRD SHADE IN THE SKY IN THE SHAPE OF SOME FUCKING WEIRD LEGUME. WHAT. HOW???? WHY??????????

Anyway I think about this a lot, it must have been a long and confusing two days from their POV

[thevoidstaredback]

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7 Storyboard

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96 @orbr @tkiesai @atomicsheepscientist @8000fangirl @shower-phantom-ideas @blep-23 @aki-bara @chasing-liberosis @weirwulf20 @mynewhyperfixation

[harunayuuka2060]

MC's child self: ...

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: Who is this little pup?

Vil: The child version of the Ramshackle Prefect.

Professor Crewel: The child version— Are you saying that naughty pup has decided to skip my class and sent their younger self here?

Vil: I wouldn't mind babysitting them.

Professor Crewel: *already holding them* No. You focus on your task, Mr. Schoenheit.

MC's child self: *stares at Professor Crewel*

MC's child self: You look cool.

Professor Crewel: Excuse me. I prefer to be called gorgeous or stunning.

MC's child self: Stunning?

Professor Crewel: Yes. Stunning.

MC: *sneezes* *sniff*

Epel: Are you alright?

Jamil: MC, you shouldn't sneeze while you're doing food prep.

MC: I moved away just in time.

Jamil: *sigh* Why did you sneeze? Are you sick?

MC: No. I feel like Professor Crewel is being a cheesy dad.

Epel: *laughs* Well, you did send your younger self over.

MC's child self: *sleepy* Crewel-dada... *yawns*

Professor Crewel: Sleepy already?

MC's child self: *nods*

Professor Crewel: Hm. I'm still in the middle of teaching.

MC's child self: I want to sleep... *sad face*

Professor Crewel: ...

Professor Crewel: Everyone, class dismissed.

The students: Huh?

Professor Crewel: *picks Little MC up and walks out of the room*

The students: ...

Student A: I think it's been confirmed that the Ramshackle Prefect is his favorite student.

Student B: Yeah. He was in denial at first.

MC: Professor? I'm here to—

MC: ...

Their child self: *using Crewel's furry coat as their blanket* *sleeping peacefully while being cuddled by him*

Professor Crewel: What?

MC: ...

MC: Didn't you say that you hate children?

Professor Crewel: Did I ever say that I hate you, pup?

MC: No?

Professor Crewel: Then you're somehow an exemption.

MC: Oh.

MC: ...

MC: Thank you.

Professor Crewel: I'm referring to this child though.

MC: *frowns*

Professor Crewel: *laughs*

[vivvangel]

blue baby | park jongseong.

synopsis: jay adores his girl a little too much and turns out his dick does too. › pairings & content: idol bf jay x idol reader (doesn't really matter) fluff, and suggestive. ✧ warning: suggestive jokes, cuddling, playful banter, use of nicknames (alot cus im down bad) + mentions of blowjob, love boner !

"i'm completely exhausted, jongie" you say, a small pout on your lips as you get up to go to your dresser to get ready for the day. "you went too harsh on me last night, baby" you shoot a playful glare at jay, who's still laying down, making him chuckle. "couldn't handle myself baby, you're just too perfect, angel" he says softly, stretching, but still not getting up.

"perfect, my ass" you mumble, but it was loud enough for jay to hear. "your ass is perfect, you're right" he says with a smug look, making you scoff. "that's not what i meant jong—" -- "i know, baby, i know," he smiles, a smile that's too pretty to be true — why is he so annoyingly pretty? what allowed him to be? you think as you turn around, hand on your hip. "you're such a bitch for still laying down and not getting your ass here and kissing me".

jay lets out a dramatic fake gasp, "my baby just called me a bitch— i feel blue" he says, acting super heartbroken and sad. "wow, and you're stilllll not getting up", jay laughs softly at this as he lazily gets up and walks towards you, pulling you into his arms as he kisses you, wrapping his arms around your body which earns a satisfactory grin from you. "i love you" he says softly, his eyes full of love -- "i love you more"

"no, i love you more"

"no, me"

"no, me!"

"i love you 1000 times more"

"i love you 10000 times more, jay"

"no, i love you 30000 more, baby"

"jay"

"princess, don't argue about this with me. i love you more"

"nuh huh"

"oh yeah?"

"yeah, i love you more"

"prove it then, baby, enlighten me"

you kiss him as you fell right into jay's trap, he picks you up, making you yelp out, carrying you to the bed again. "jay-" -- "just two more minutes, angel, too cold" he said, pulling the sheets on top of you both. -- "baby?" jay calls you quietly, to which you respond quietly back, murmuring a "yeah?" — "please don't be mad but.." -- "i can't ever be mad at you jongie, what's wrong?"

jay gulps, scanning your expressing, as he pulls you closer to him, snuggling his head against your neck as he warily whispers, "angel, i have a boner.." — he what? you thought you both didn't even do anything that would result in a boner in the slightest. "jay, you literally fucked me dumb yesterday" -- "i know princess, i knoww, i know you're tired but baby,, need you feel you so bad.. can't stop thinking about your pretty pussy and how it always squeezes my cock so desperately.." he whispers, his head basically buried in your neck out of embarrassment. "want me to blow you off, mhm?" you said, and his head perks up immediately — "would you mind, pretty?" -- you give him a small smile, pushing the blanket aside and sitting up,

let's just say you both skipped work that day.

[oneforthemunny]

oooh could we get some hockey!eddie, visiting/surprising him at practice, flufffffff 💕💕

for the sweetest most polite anon lol! hockey player!eddie who's birthday happens to fall during the training season.

"He's gonna be so stoked." Chris, the team manager grinned, pushing the heavy stadium door open for you.

"I hope so." You smiled gently, ducking under his arm, following him down the long, cinderblock stadium.

It was still so cold, despite the heat cranked high everywhere. Boston in the winter was brutal, winter time worse than Indiana's ever could imagine. It was a miracle you'd even made it, didn't get snowed in and grounded at the airport with all the snow.

"No, he's gonna love it, trust me." Chris grinned. "I got some of the guys in on it too, hope you don't mind. Just his coach and his agent. I told them he had an interview after practice."

"An interview?" You lifted a brow.

Chris snickered. "Yeah, he thinks you're with ESPN so just go with it." He shrugged. "I knew if I just told him to stay, he'd get suspect. Plus, this is gonna be fucking priceless."

You giggled lightly, following Chris around the hallway. A few players lingering around, most cleared out for the evening, but no sign of your curly headed love.

"Hey, Franco. Munson's in the conference room, right?" Chris nodded towards the closed door, the other man grunting in response. "Cool, hey, stay right here, ok? I'm gonna make sure he's ready and set up."

You nodded, standing to the side, a knuckled grip on your purse strap. Your tummy flipped with excitement, maybe nerves. It had been a few weeks since you'd seen Eddie, since he'd left for training season. You didn't want to be a distraction, but with his birthday this weekend, you couldn't let him celebrate alone. Especially not after he sounded so sad, so disheartened on the phone- he missed you, told you every single day, every time he called.

"...Perfect, one sec. I'll tell her you're ready." Chris opened the door, pulling you from your thoughts. He waved at you, stepping out with door still half opened. "I'll leave you two alone, but if you need me, I'm right out here."

Your heart fluttered, flipped and skipped with nerves, pushing the door open, sliding into view. You caught a glimpse at Eddie before he fully saw you, finger drumming on the desk, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with the team's logo proudly on the front, hair still a little damp from his shower.

Your breath hitched, watching his face fall in shock once he saw you. A pause filled the space between you two, the door clicking with a shut behind you.

"Oh, no way." Eddie gawked, blinking hard, like he might be hallucinating. "N-No way. Is this real? Holy shit, you-you're- Baby, what are you doing here?" He stood from the table, tripping over it, the metal legs screeching when he shoved it.

"Surprise." You squeaked, opening your arms to hug him.

Eddie nearly tackled you in a hug, squeezing you tightly to him. "Holy shit, I can't believe you're here. You're actually here, I-I thought I was getting interviewed-"

"-No." You giggled, pulling back lightly to look at him. "Just me. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday."

Eddie's face lit up, lips curling in an even brighter smile. His hands cupped either side of your face, lips on yours, pulling you into a head spinning kiss that screamed I missed you I missed you I missed you.

"I can't believe you're here." Eddie muttered, lips vibrating against yours.

"Happy birthday, baby." You muttered back, fingers raking through his hair. You'd missed him, missed him much more than you realized now that he was standing here in front of you.

Eddie pulled back, looking up at the door. "Chris knew about this?"

You giggled, nodding. "He helped me get my flight and stuff. Picked me up from the airport."

Eddie shook his head, grin still wide on his face. "Chris! You fuckin' liar!" He yelled playfully, the men behind the door howling in laughter. "I thought I was about to get my cover story!"

You laughed, pressing your face to his chest, rocking with him slowly. "This is better though." Eddie added, hugging you tighter to him. "Just for the record, this is way fuckin' better."

[spidernuggets]

could you pretty please, if you have any request spaces left open, do a little something where y/n is like a ball of sunshine type character and nothing ever seems to break her or get her hopes down, but one day jason is suuupper pissed off about smth and he verbally takes it out on her and it makes her cry, and he feels bad immediately but won't admit to that just yet because he's in his asshole era (maybe this would fit titans jay better), and he just doubles down like why the hell are you crying that he's seen her handle waayy worse than this and still manage to stay upbeat, and she's like forcing herself to stop crying and pull herself together and she tells him it's cuz it's him and hes like oh of course you'd cry over me cuz I'm just so awful and she's like actually no cuz it hurts to be on the receiving end of his anger because she's a little bit in love with him. Angst is my absolute fav so that's why I'm asking for sadness 💔😢

Jason Todd x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Note: Yayyy angst! 🥳🥳

"Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

"Hey, Jay! Wanna train together?" You came skipping into the training room, seeing Jason already throwing a couple of strikes to a punching bag.

"Not today." He replies, refusing to look at you and continuing to hit the bag, quickly wiping the sweat dripping from his forhead.

"C'mon, just one quick sparring match, hm? Please! You said you'd show me how to do that cool headlock thingy," you kept your upbeat attitude, missing the memo that Jason was not having it today.

"Jesus, I said no! Would you fuck off, I'm busy," he raises his voice at you.

He was in a mood because just a few hours ago, Dick threatened to bench him if Jason couldn't keep in line. If Jason won't stop disobeying orders, Dick wouldn't think twice about taking the mask and cape away from him.

But when Jason raised his voice, your smile quivered. "Oh.. I'm sorry. Maybe later, yeah? I know sparring makes you feel better!-"

You were cut off by Jason, fully yelling at you this time. "For fuck's sake, can you not take a hint or are you really that fucking dense? I don't wanna fucking spar right now, and I don't wanna spar with you! So how 'bout you get this through your thick skull, and fuck off!" He didn't mean to say any of that. He mentally punched himself for ever opening his mouth.

He knows you just wanted to make him feel better, but his stupid brain made him take his anger out on you. He always admired your happy and positive attitude. He doesn't know how you keep it up. Every time you walked into the room, it was like an angel came in with a glowing aura accompanying you. And his heart always swelled at the fantasy that you shared that aura with him every time you spoke a word to him, every compliment you gave him, every smile you sent his way. He wanted to apologise, but his thick pride got in the way.

"I..." You could barely get a word out. Jason has never talked to you like that before. Hell, he never even raised his voice to you before. You hiccuped, your throat getting clogged up, and you felt like you needed to hurl whike your chest ached.

It was too late before you noticed the salty tears travelling down your reddened cheeks. And it was too late before Jason noticed his mouth talking faster than his brain could think.

"Fuck, now you're crying?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There's literally nothing to cry over, and I shouldn't even need to tell you twice to leave me alone!" What the fuck, why won't he stop talking?

You tried to wipe away your tears and tug your lips upward to show at least half a smile, but a choked out whine escaped instead.

"Honestly, stop crying, would you?" He really couldn't stop himself. Words just kept vomiting out his mouth like that time he drank one brew too many last time he kicked some villain's ass. He liked that memory. Granted, he was throwing up buckets, but you were behind him as he was hunched over the toilet seat. You thought he'd forgotten the next morning, but he clearly remembered how you were right behind him, rubbing his back in comfort, telling him you'd stay with him as long as he wanted. He also remembered the way you supported him up while walking him back to his room. He remembered you tucking him into bed, placing a trash can beside it, making sure he's sleeping on his side. He remembered you quietly reminding him about the water bottle you left on his nightstand. He also remembered that bold and cheeky peck you left in the soft curls of his head while telling him to get some good rest.

"You literally got stabbed and had a near death experience, and you were smiling the whole time you were recovering! Now you're crying? And for what?!"

"You- You're being mean," you sniffled.

He scoffs again and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

You tried holding in your sobs, but that led to you almost choking on your held breath, your chest feeling full, and your head feeling sore. Jason wanted nothing more for you to slap him, hit him, shut him up. He wanted to tell you he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. He wanted to run up to you, hug you in a tight embrace, and tell you not to cry because he actually is a prick and an asshole.

"Literally, why the hell are you still even here! Get lost, I'm not gonna say it again!" He yells for the final time before going back to the punching bag. And after the few seconds he got back to it, he glanced at where you were standing and saw you were already gone.

He curled over, leaning his hands over his knees, panting furiously. He wasn't sure if the tiredness came from the punches or the yelling. Maybe both. But picturing the broken look on your face pissed him off even more. Not because you were sad. Because he was the one who made you sad. This made him hate himself even more.

He tore the boxing gloves off his hands, projecting them off somewhere in the room, and yelled out in anger. He didn't even notice he started crying himself.

It's been another couple of hours. Your cheeks were long dried, but that didn't stop your shallow breaths from shaking continuously.

You then heard light knocks coming from your door. You took 3 deep and calm breaths before going towards it to see who it was.

Jason was pretty much the last person you'd expect to be standing on the other side. Furthermore, him holding a small bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands was the last thing you'd expect him to present to you. But you were scared to make the wrong move that might tick him off again.

"Jason, can we talk later I-" You said slowly in a whisper, looking at the ground while shaking your head, trying to close the door on him.

"Y/n, please," he holds the door, leaving a little gap open between you and him. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have yelled, and I-"

"No, Jason, stop. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologise." This time, when Jason raised his voice, it was different. It was softer. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, and I took it out on you. The only thing I was right about was that I am a prick and an asshole. And- and I took your gorgeous smile away from you, and-" He started to word vomit again, but this time, it made your lips tug upwards. "And I don't want you to fuck off or get lost. I never want you to get lost because your so amazing and."

He continued his rambles and didn't notice that you opened the door wider. He tore his gaze away from the ground, and his heart raced when he felt your hands cupped around his own that were holding the flowers.

"The flowers are really pretty, Jay," you smiled at him.

Your happiness was so magnetising that he mirrored your smile. But it faltered. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You shouldn't have cried over me because of how much of an asshole I am.."

You sighed, taking the flowers from his grasp and holding them close to your chest, your finger gently gliding over some of the petals. "Let's be real, Jason, you're always an asshole. But... I was crying because you've never been so angry at me before. I was crying because I hated knowing that I was the one who pissed who off."

"Shit, oh, sweet thing, no," he quietly replied, holding both your shoulders, making you look at him. Your face warmed at the nickname. "You- You didn't piss me off. I was already pissed off before that. It was just bad timing, and me being a hot head- you can never make me angry."

Neither of you realised how the two of you were in such close proximity.

"Well... you can make it up to me?" You say, your spark of sunshine and optimism coming back.

"Yeah- yes, how, I'l do anything," Jason quickly replied.

You step back, walking to your desk, pulling an empty vase to put the flowers in. "There's a cute cafe that opened downtown," you started, admiring the arrangement of flowers. "Go with me?" You shyly ask, back still facing him.

Jason smiled wider, thinking that alone time with you would count as a date. "Of course, sugar. Anything else?"

You giggled and turned around and crossed your arms. "Yes. You're paying, obviously," you walked up to him.

"Obviously," he copied.

"And I want this to be a date." This was a new, bold side to you. You've never been this straightforward before.

Jason glances up to the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending to think. "Yeah," he places his his hands on your waist, your own resting on his chest. "I think that could be arranged."

[hobie-enthusiast]

WITHOUT YOU !

— ‘hobie × reader angst where the reader doesn't know that hobie is spider punk and doing all these multiverse missions and is hurt by hobie having to flake out and miss dates or hang outs, hobie wants to reveal who they are but maybe saw a multiverse where that didn't end well?’

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— lots of angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, little blurbs and then a longer one

— duty calls hobie at the worst times, and you start to get weary of how he’s acting

— i had an inner debate with myself on ‘should i write a happy ending or sad ending’ so i compromised and did a poll (directly reuploaded from my old acc @/hobieenthusiast)

The first time Hobie Brown skipped out was three months into your relationship.

He wanted to take you to a local diner his friend owned. Hobie always wanted to support his fellow anarchists and friends in however they battle the corrupt world. And what better way than bringing his partner on a lovely date there?

He promised to meet you there. That he had something to take care of before he came.

You assumed maybe he was bringing a gift or had to change at his apartment beforehand. You know it would be okay, Hobie wouldn’t flake. Right?

Right?

You stood outside the diner in the cold air, waiting for Hobie to arrive. You had some paper flowers you created in your hand to give to him when he arrived (since of course you couldn't ever buy into capitalism). He was already about five minutes late at that point, but surely he had his reasons.

Five minutes turned into ten. Then ten to an hour. You went inside at some point to sit and wait for him, asking for some water and a coffee for when he got there. But after two hours, you lost any hope. You stood, paying for the undrunk coffee and tipping the waiter for dealing with you not ordering food.

Wasn't like you were hungry anyway.

As you were walking back to your apartment, you finally got a call from him. The adorable photo of the two of you along with 'Hobes <3' popped up, and you could only sigh as you picked up.

"Hobie?" You call out, holding the phone to your ear.

"[Name]!" He spoke on the other end, his voice sounding a little more upset and out of breath. "Sweetheart, 'm so sorry-"

You cut him off, shivering slightly. "Where were you? Actually, scratch that. Where are you?"

“Somethin’ came up, darlin’. ‘m so sorry. I called as soon as I could.”

He sounded genuine in his apology. You sighed, rubbing your eyes and keeping quiet for a little while. This stung, for sure. But if it was out of his control, could you blame him?

Hobie sighed on the other end. “I’ll make it up to ya, a’right? I’ll come ‘round tomorrow, we’ll go then, promise. That a’right, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You respond, taking a deep breath. “Yeah that’s good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobes.”

You both say goodbye and hang up soon after. Hobie stayed true to his word and came by the next day with some hand-made gifts to apologize, taking you out to the diner. It turned out okay, you were grateful for that much. Surely that was a one time thing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The second time Hobie Brown skipped out was on your four month anniversary.

The two of you agreed to not do much, just stay in and hang out. He even agreed to teach you some guitar! To say you were excited was an understatement.

He promised to come over around seven and spend the night. Hobie even wanted to make dinner together. Something you were again looking forward to.

His promise was genuine, so surely him being late wasn’t anything to worry about, right?

Right?

You put on a record onto your record player, one of the shared favourites between you and Hobie, playing the music throughout the apartment. You sat on your couch, fiddling with some of the pins Hobie gifted you as you awaited his arrival.

Eight pm. Hobie still hadn’t shown up.

You shot him a quick text, asking where he was. No reply. Surely everything was okay. He was Hobie Brown, he knew how to take care of himself. With little worry in your mind, you focused on starting dinner, hoping Hobie wouldn’t mind.

Nine pm. No sign of Hobie.

You finished making food, setting a plate aside in the microwave as you ate your portion in silence. The music accompanied you, but not like Hobie does.

Ten pm. Hobie Brown was nowhere around.

You could only sigh in frustration, upset he flaked, again. No call this time either. You had sent close to six texts within those three hours, none of which were responded to. You were upset, that much was certain.

A knock on your door startled you. You rush over, opening it quickly.

Hobie stood on the other side, clutching his arm with his hand covered in blood. Some cuts and bruises littered his face.

“Hobes, oh my- get in here.” You say in worry, bringing him in and guiding him to your couch. “Sit.. hold on please just.. crap..”

You rush to grab some medical supplies, lying them down in front of him. You take a towel, soak in some hydrogen peroxide, raising it to his arm. Your hand shakes as you make contact with Hobie’s skin, but his hand stops you.

“Aye, look here..” He says quietly, looking down at you. “You’re shakin’. Deep breaths, ‘right? ‘m totally fine.”

“But you aren’t! You blow me off then show up three hours later all beaten up! You can’t do that Hobie!”

He’s silent as you shakily clean him up. He could tell you were upset, and he felt guilty for being the cause. This was yet another instance out of his control, but Hobie didn’t feel it was right to excuse himself while you were so nervous.

You finish cleaning and bandaging before sighing. “I’m sorry I just.. you scared me, Hobes.”

“I know, sweetheart..” He responds, pulling you into a tight hug. “Won’ happen again. Promise.”

Funny enough, that’s what he said the first time.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The third, fourth, and fifth times Hobie Brown flaked were enough to make you pissed.

He continued to promise he couldn’t flake again. He said he wouldn’t get hurt and that he would show up. That he wouldn’t be late.

Lies.

You sat on the rooftop of your apartment building, legs dangling over the edge. You knew Hobie would come. You said it was urgent. That you had to talk.

“Careful. Don’t needya fallin’ down.”

You chuckle at the familiar voice. Hobie comes to sit next to you, noticing the somber expression you’re wearing.

He sighed, looking over the building. “Everythin’ alright?”

“As much as I want to say yes, no.” You respond, not daring to look at Hobie’s expression.

There was a heavy silence that hung between you two for a little while. He knew what this was about, but he had no intention of telling you the answer.

—

Hobie let out a small breath, sending the anomaly back to HQ. This one put up a fight, that was certain. And that universe’s Spider-man? Well he was dealing with another villain not too far from there.

He decided to swing over in case anything went wrong, settling for observing for now. But something about the enemy did catch his ear.

He kept talking about how he was going to make Spider-man pay, they were sworn enemies, blah blah the same spiel like always. But this one was saying.. more than that.

‘You’re gonna pay for keeping [Name] from me!’

‘How do you even know ‘em?’

‘Oh Spider-man, I know all. Just like how I know you revealed your identity to them. Wrong move, Spider-man. Or should I say, Hobie Brown?’

Of course Hobie knew this wasn’t his universe, but hearing it almost felt like an out-of-body experience. He watched as the fight raged on, even seeing this universe’s you suspended on the top of a clock tower.

He watched the moment go on. Watched as this Hobie Brown stopped the enemy, fixed any falling pieces, then went to save his you. But he didn’t make it. The clock tower piece snapped from damage, releasing the hold it had on his you.

Hobie couldn’t watch anymore. He swung away from the scene, far as possible, before taking off his mask with a heavy sigh.

He was debating with himself for so long. He owed it to you to tell you about his identity. He knew that. But after seeing that.. he wasn’t too sure he truly could.

His heart was heavy as he pulled out his phone, seeing a dozen texts from you asking where he was. Hobie felt so guilty, keeping this secret.

But he had a duty to protect you, even if that means hiding it.

—

“What’s going on with you?” You ask, drawing your knees to your chest. “You continue to flake on our dates and hang-outs. Your bandmates have said you don’t come to rehearsals. And you randomly show up hurt or worse. I can’t understand what’s happening.”

Hobie sighed. “I know. Haven’ been very present. ‘m sorry.”

You shake your head. “I’m not looking for an apology.” You say, glancing at him. “I’m looking for an explanation.”

“Well..”

Hobie stops his words, unable to continue. It’s like he’s back in that moment when he witnessed your death. Well.. other universe you. But it still stung the same. Would that be the consequence if he told you who he really was?

He knows Spider-man can’t save everyone. So what does he do?

“Can’t tell ya..” Hobie finally says, looking out onto the city. It was always so beautiful at night. “‘s for your safety.”

“My safety? Hobie you can’t be serious.” You say, a sad expression crossing your face.

He shakes his head in turn. “I just.. need time. I gotta make sure ‘s safe to tell ya.”

You’re silent as his words, unsure of what to do. You trusted Hobie, you truly did. But this was hurting the both of you. That much was obvious.

“Okay..”

You lean your body on Hobie’s arm, taking a deep breath of air. “Take as long as you need. Just.. promise you’ll stay safe. Please.”

Hobie wraps an arm around your shivering body, planting a kiss on your head as he combs through your hair. He’s grateful, oh so grateful, that you understand. This wasn’t easy, he knew that of course. But you were the best person who possibly could understand, even when so in the dark.

“Promise..”

His voice carried into the wind of the night, sealing the words between the two lovers.

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} [Loop] (Siffrin) (Wren belongs to @fungal--wastes)

(You were looking out the window of your room down to the small courtyard next to the inn. Ramos, Isabeau, Vixul, and Mirabelle had all teamed up to do some training together. It was amazing to watch them all work. They'd paired up to practice with each others weapons. Mirabelle and Vixul, Isabeau and Ramos.)

(Isabeau you knew, big defender that he is. It was hard to take your eyes from him, with how he moved, how he was able to take hits like brick, with how he was smiling the whole time. So confident, strong, he didn't even need a weapon.)

(Ramos you were still learning, but they were fast and strong, like a middle ground between you and Isa. They could get in fast, hurt hard, then stand their ground. Tonfas suited them. The vest and bandana made sense too, like some, cool bandit look, or. . . You shake your head.)

(Mirabelle had been working to get better ever since your fight with Perci. She was always quick on her feet, and was able to sting. She often reacted to things far before her more ration brain caught up; which lead to many accidental bruises.)

(And Vixul, she was fast too, and nimble. She used a spear and knew how to get in and get out quickly. Although, she eventually swapped from spear to a pair of. . . What looked like gauntlets with armor that extended up the forarms. She fought differently, now, more defensive. You'll have to think about that.)

(There's a knock on the door. You sigh, and get up. You're supposed to be resting, but you couldn't sleep. Maybe it was Bonnie coming to nag you about rest again. You go over and open the door.)

". . . Afternoon, Siffrin." (Wren was standing at the door, expression unchanging, as usual.) "May I come in?"

"Uh. . ." (Well this is a surprise.) "Sure?"

"Thank you."

(You turn, walk to your bed, and sit down.) "Haha, sorry it's a mess, don't exactly have the energy to-"

(You were cut off by Wren closing the door, and locking it.)

(You continue.) ". . . Toooo clean up the place, y'know?

"Quite." (He walked over to the small table and chair the room had and placed his book on the table.) "Can we just skip past the small talk, Siffrin?"

". . ." (Oh this was turning from worrying to potentially dangerous. Where did you put your dagger again?) "Uuuuh, oookaaay?"

"Good." (He tilts his head slightly to you, his eyes stabbing directly into your soul.) "You made a wish to be able to turn back time, no? And it was most likely made when you were about to face the King?"

(You can't cover your shock fast enough. He smiles, and continues.) "It was, wasn't it?"

". . . . . H-how-"

"You knew exactly where to find our antagonists. You know things you shouldn't about myself and my companions. You knew Polaris was effected by mind craft before I or Vixul did and exactly what to do about it. And you had a level of craft exhaustion that should have by all rights killed you."

(He continues.) "What's more, I did some digging. Did you hear news of that strange sadness in Jouvente? It was at the same time you saviors were all visiting. I overheard that you and Ramos used to be enemies, Ramos can use mind craft, and that you had craft exhaustion back then, too."

"But, that's-"

(He cuts you off.) "Do you know how many traps are in the that House of Change? Or about how overrun by sadness it was? And from what I hear you ran through it all by yourself. And should I even mention the rumors of a shade stained sky?"

". . ."

"And." (He turns to face you fully.) "I listened in on your 'Former Saviors of Vaugarde' team meeting."

(. . . . . . . . What.)

(Wren just walked into your room and tore down your veil of secrets with one swing. He tore it down, ripped it to shreds, and tossed the remains in a fire. You couldn't be mad, confused, or scared; that would come later. Because right now you were just impressed.)

(You fall back on the bed.) ". . . Yeah. It was the day before we fought the King, too."

"Close, then. And everything else?"

"Dead on." (You sigh.) "I spent 20-odd loops in Jouvente trying to deal with Ramos."

"And here?"

"23? 24? Most of those happened in quick succession. That's what really causes the craft exhaustion." (You rub your head.) "It's like, the body needs to recharge, or, something."

"And when you fought the King?"

". . . . 176." (You sit up again.) "Repeating the same two days over, and over, and over again, for almost a year."

". . ." (You look up, Wren was writing in his book.) ". . . Don't worry, this stays between us."

"It had better." (You look away.) ". . . How do you know about wish craft, anyway."

"I learned about it when traveling with Vixul and Polaris."

(A lie.) "No you didn't."

". . . No, I didn't." (He sighs.) "It doesn't matter. What did you wish for?"

"I think it does matter, Wren." (You cross your arms.) "Wish craft isn't just, something you can pick up any regular old book on and learn about. At least not without a big headache."

(Wren was staring at the pages of his book, like he was burning the pages with his mind.) ". . . . What. Did. You. Wish. For."

". . . Wren-?"

"How did you do it." (He cuts you off again, pen pressed to the page.) "What method did you use?"

"I'm not-"

"How far back can you go?" (His voice wavers.) "How. Far."

"W-wren-"

(His pen snaps in two. There's a silence.)

". . . . . . . ."

". . . . . . . ." (You tuck your legs under your cloak, and look away.)

". . . . . . . I need to know." (He didn't look at you.) "Please."

". . . I, Wren. . . I, I can't tell you. I-it's complicated-"

"I have all day, Siffrin." (His expression, you knew that expression.)

(It's the expression of someone trying with all their might to hold back tears. You knew that expression, because you had seen a picture of yourself with that same expression dozens of times.)

(Okay, you breathe in, and out.) "I can't tell you, because, because it put me through hell. And, and I don't want that to happen to you."

"Try me."

(Is this guy serious?) "Didn't you hear me?!? 176 loops, 352 days, all trying to escape a nightmare where nothing ever changed!!!" (You look away again.) "Whatever you're thinking, it, are, you sure it's worth-"

"I'd loop 300 times." (There's not even a second of hesitation.) "No, I'd do 500. 1,000. Maybe even more. It would be worth it."

(You snap back to him.) "I- you don't, really believe-"

"I do." (His voice is steady.) "I mean every single word, Siffrin."

(. . . . Oh.)

". . ." (He wasn't just serious, he was determined, desperate, begging. There, there was no way out of this was there. J-just, just, keep talking.) ". . . . What's worth it, Wren."

(There is a very, very long silence.)

". . . . . . . . His name was Icarus."

(It's as if you could hear a pin drop.)

(He continued.) "He, he was someone very important to me. . . No, not that. He was the only thing important to me. Every day I would get out of bed because of him. I would endure the world because of him. I would look forward to the nights because of him."

"I would have given him the world, if he asked." (His voice cracks. You see a tear on his cheek.) "If it, if it wasn't for him I would have taken a knife to my throat a long, long time ago."

". . . ." (You had to ask.) "What happened?"

". . . . I, I-I don't know." (He hangs his head down.) "He, h-he's dead, or dying, or somewhere in between it's, I, I can't explain it. And I don't know if I can save him, or if it's too late or if I never could and I'm just wasting my time but I have to try!"

"I have to try."

"I have to try."

". . . . . ."

"Because if I don't try, then he's, he's. . ."

". . . . . . . . . . . ."

(. . . . How could you even respond to that. You couldn't look. It would just, just make you start crying as well.)

[. . . Stardust?]

(Loop? Where have you been-)

[Let me talk to him.]

(. . . O-okay. You close your eye and lean back. You breathe in. . . .)

[. . . .]

[. . . And out. . . . You hold your head in your hand, dizzy. Really dizzy. You wait a second for it to pass, then talk.] ". . . Wren?"

"Siffrin?" (He responds.)

"Close, but no~"

"Right." (He looks at you slightly, eyes dark from tears.) ". . . Loop? Is that the name?"

"Bingo." [You respond, you want to joke around, but your heart isn't in it.]

". . ." [He turns back to the book.] "Here to talk to me?"

"Yes yes, I am." [You roll your eye. You hop back fully on the bed and lay down.] "I'm here to tell you how to make a wish!"

[He looked up suspiciously.] ". . . You are?"

"Yes~" [You put a finger to your chin.] "I'm going to tell you. And I'm going to tell you aaaaaall the details that Siffrin left out~ You're lucky, you know. Not even our good companions know this, so you had better not tell them."

". . . My lips are sealed."

"Good!" [You pause for a second, smiling. Where you really about to tell a stranger this? Yes, you were. What better a place to hide secrets than in another desperate traveler.]

"I made a wish the day before we fought the King to stay with my family. I didn't know that was my wish, just how I did it. I took a leaf that represented me, and whispered my wish into it three times, closed it, and tied it to the tree. And all of a sudden I was in a time loop! And no~ This is very differen't than Stardust- Siffrins experience."

"I had no-one. I was alone in trying to escape it. I was stuck. I battled my way through that house hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of times." [You continue to smile. Fake. (You knew how to smile. You knew how to fake it.)] "I beat the King. Once."

[(That Desperate one is looking at you, no doubt his mind at work. He was trying to decypher you. He was trying to tell just what was going on with that messed up little head of yours. Oh he was so, SO clever wasn't he!!)]

[(You continue.)] "One time. Once. Out of thousands, and it cost everything. And even after all that, I was still forced back to try it aaaaaall over again~"

"So I gave up! I gave it all up! I cried, pleaded, begged to the Universe for someone ANYONE to help! And do you know what the Universe did? It gave me exactly what I wished for."

[(Your smile wasn't normal.)] "Next thing I knew I woke up at the foot of that favor tree, a new lightless body of stars and a head as bright as the sun. I was unrecognisiable. Not even to myself~"

[(The Desperates eyes widen, you grinn.)] "Figured it out, haven't you~?"

[(There's a pause, he looks you over, your demeanor, your voice, evereything.)] ". . . You're not a normal alter. You are Siffrin."

"Correct~ Aaaand~?"

". . . You, became a sort of guide, for, a new Siffrin?"

"Correct!!" [(You clap your hands together.)] "Stardust didn't recognise me, no one recognised me. I had a lovely new job as the stagehand for my wonderful replacement actor! Forced to guide him untill the very end~ Oh and I do mean forced. I had to teach them how to kill themself because they asked."

"And now as one last cruel joke, with it all over, the Universe took me and stuck me in their blinding body. Forced to watch their happy ending."

"So! Wren, does that sound worth it to you?"

[There is a long, long, long silence. So long that the sound of your friends sparing outside stopped as they finished. You eventually hear Wren let out a breath.]

[He taps a finger on his book and talked quietly.] ". . . You make. . . A compelling argument, but. . ."

"Buuuuuuut~?"

". . . . ." [There was hesitation.] "I, I can't falter now."

[In too deep.]

". . . I understand." [You stand up.] "That's why I'm going to tell you how."

[You walk over to Wren and drag a chair over to sit next to him, you got a new pen, and you got to work.]

[You tell him about wishes, you tell him about home, and how you repeated wishes three, six, seven, or thirteen times. You told him about how whatever you wished for, you had to believe it. And what you wish for might not be what you think you're wishing for.]

[And you warn him every step of the way.]

[It was like you were writing a script. If one thing was out of place, out of line, then the whole play would collapse. You couldn't stop him, you knew that, but this was the next best thing.]

". . . And one last thing."

"Hmm?" [Wren was finishing writing the last of his notes.]

". . . If you decide to go through with this." [You look away.] ". . . Tell those close to you, about everything."

[He pauses, and glances up.]

[You continue.] ". . . It would have, saved me a lot of time."

[He looks at you a moment, then he lets his face relax and smile just a little.] "I promise."

"Thank you." [You get up and stretch.] "If you're looking for more information, go to the Dormont House of Change."

"I imagine you are very familiar?"

"Down to the brick~" [You collapse face down onto the bed.] "Now get out of here, I'm tired."

"Well since you asked so nicely." [He gathers his things, pauses a moment, and goes to leave.]

". . . Wren."

[He pauses.] ". . . Yes?"

". . . . ." [You turn your face away.] "Please, don't make the same mistakes I did."

[There's a pause.] ". . . I'll, do my best. Thank you, Loop."

"Save it." [You hold up a finger.] "Save it for when, for when you don't end up like me."

[megxplryxb]

How Can it be Over When it Never Really Started?

Pairings: Colby Brock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight mention of smut, Kat and Sam's break up is discussed (no sides taken), No mentions of y/n

Notes: I haven't written for Colby in over a year so please be kind, I know i'm a little rusty.

The Las Vegas air was hot and sticky as you reluctantly opened the car door, removing yourself from the refreshing air conditioning of your BMW. The car locked with a beep as you tossed your keys into your handbag, rummaging around for a clip to tie your hair back, already feeling uncomfortable in the warmth of the desert. Dry gravel crunched under your converse, the hot sun already kissing your skin as you approached the entrance of an all too familiar house.

Everything looked as it did the last time you’d been here. The overgrown bushes at the side of the house still needing to be trimmed, the walls still screaming for a fresh coat of paint and the lights you’d all hung up for Christmas still dangling from the trees in the yard. But while things looked the same, the feeling was completely different. It was strange, quiet and sad. Any other time before today, you’d have walked in, skipping through the house, singing and dancing, looking for Katrina, but she didn’t live here anymore and that’s exactly the reason why you were here now.

Kat and Sam had broken up three weeks ago, ending their seven plus year relationship which came as a shock to many. While it was mostly amicable, she just couldn’t bring herself to return to the house she had shared with her ex boyfriend to pick up the last of her things. So instead, you had volunteered to go, wanting to make things as easy as possible for her.

It had been a rough couple of weeks for your best friend, the break up hitting her hard and she'd never felt more alone. Kat had been staying with a friend for the last couple of weeks, tying up some loose ends before she left Vegas in the rear view mirror once and for all. You arrived yesterday, driving to Sin City to help with her move back to LA, knowing that she needed you now more than ever. Break ups were never easy and you wanted her to know she didn't have to go through this alone.

Taking a deep breath in, you pressed the ring doorbell, stomach in knots as you waited patiently for a response. Sam knew you were coming, you’d organised it with him yesterday to make sure it was ok, not wanting to completely blindside him upon your arrival. Of course he didn't mind. It hadn't been easy for him either and you were sure he was just as heartbroken as Kat.

“Hey, I’ll be right down.” You heard a familiar voice say through the speaker, your eyes widening upon the realisation that it wasn't Sam. Fuck.

“Oh hey, yeah cool, take your time.” You reply, moving back from the door, tugging at your bottom lip nervously, a sudden feeling of uneasiness creeping up on you.

There was a slight shuffle on the other side of the door before it opened and you were met not by Sam but by his best friend Colby, who you'd slept with two months ago.

“Hey stranger, long time no see." He smiles, pulling you in for a hug, wrapping himself around you. His scent was intoxicating, warm and comforting and you hated how much you had missed being in his arms.

“Hi.” You blush, reluctantly pulling away from him, avoiding his gaze until he closed the door behind you.

“You could have just walked in y’know, like you always do.” He teases as you shake your head, shrugging. “I didn’t really know what to do honestly, I guess it’s just kind of weird now that Kat’s gone.”

“Hey, you know you’re always welcome here, right? That’s never gonna change.” Colby states but you’re not sure even he believes that. You’ve seen how break ups go, how it damages not just the couple but the friends involved too.

“How is Kat? I texted her a couple of times but she hasn’t really been responding.” He frowns, biting his bottom lip. You could see the sadness in his eyes, he was hurting too. You all were.

“She’s doing ok. I mean, she’s devastated obviously but she’ll get there, it’s just going to take some time.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine what they’re both going through right now. Sam is so quiet, he’s not really talking about it much.”

“Where is he anyway?” You look around, noticing the place was oddly quiet.

“He kind of chickened out last minute. I think he was afraid you were going to murder him, so he went for a run.” He jokes but you know he’s also kind of serious.

“Why would I do that? I mean, he just broke my best friend’s heart, it’s no big deal.” You reply sarcastically.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I kind of want to kick his ass too.” The black haired boy smiles and you can’t help but notice how utterly beautiful he looks right now.

“He knows I don’t hate him, right? Like, I wish I did because it would make things a hell of a lot easier but, at least he was honest y’know? He didn’t string her along or cheat on her. I’m just sad it didn’t work out for them.” You admit, holding back your tears.

“I know, I am too, it fucking sucks.” Colby sighs, throwing an arm around you, trying to pull you closer to him but he feels how reluctant you are to lean into him.

“I better get this stuff packed into my car. We’re heading back to LA in the morning.” You say as Colby nods his head, the corner of his lips turning downwards, leading you to the kitchen where Katrina’s things are laid out on the dinning table. There’s not too much left, just some clothes and shoes, bits of make up and unopened post and a framed picture of you all at the beach from last summer when Sam and Kat were still happy and you and Colby hadn’t blurred the lines of your friendship.

“That was a good day.” Colby chuckles from behind you. His hot breath hitting the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah it was. They looked so in love here.” You frown, running your fingers over the picture.

“They were.” Colby agrees, holding the other side of the frame. “You looked so beautiful that day.” He whispers, causing you to shake your head.

“Yeah right.” You laugh, rejecting his compliment.

“I’m serious. Shit, I remember seeing you in that bikini for the first time too. All of the guys were looking at you and that douche bag asked for your number, remember?” He quizzed, causing you to chuckle. You remember it like it was yesterday, the guy strutting towards you while you sunbathed with Kat. He’d been so cocky, certain he was leaving with your number until you ran to Colby, kissing his cheek. Pleading with him to go with it and pretend to be your boyfriend. He did it without a second thought, arms draped over your body, nuzzled into your neck, placing little kisses on your shoulder until the guy got the hint and left you alone.

“Of course I remember, you wanted to kill that guy.” You tease, turning to face Colby who looks at the picture once more. “Yeah, I did. Fuck, I was so jealous.” He curses as you furrow your brows, a little surprised by his admission.

“Why?” You ask, your breath hitching as he takes the frame from your hands, placing it on the table.

“You know why.” He insists, his lips hovering over your own, backing you into the table as your heart fluttered.

There had always been something between you and Colby, an unspoken attraction that neither of you dared to explore until two months ago. The timing for anything other than a friendship had never been quite right, one or both you seeing other people. But he had always been flirty with you, sharing subtle touches or glances when no one else was looking and for the longest time, that had been it. That was until New Years Eve, at a house party hosted by Jake and Tara. Colby had been by your side all night, getting your drinks, laughing and dancing and when the clock struck midnight his lips were immediately on yours, like he’d been waiting an eternity to kiss you. It only took you a moment to kiss him back, his hands finding a home on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, ignoring all the whistles around you, your friends screaming that it was about damn time.

Not long after, you arrived back at the house, the kiss not being enough for either one of you, both of you needing more urgently. Colby had quickly dragged you upstairs, undressing each other before you even reached his bedroom, lips never parting as he pressed you into his mattress. It wasn't what you thought it would be like, it was slow and sweet and Colby took his time with you, afraid he'd only get one chance at this. The next morning you awoke in his arms, limbs still tangled under the sheets until you managed to wiggle your way out without waking him, leaving before you had to have an awkward conversation about the night before.

"Colby, I can't do this right now." You sigh, shaking off your thoughts as you move away from him again.

“Do what?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Do this, whatever this is..” you state as he lets out a deep breath.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” He questions, folding his tattooed arms across his toned chest.

“What is there to talk about? It was just sex, wasn't it?" You shrug, causing him to scoff and you swear you can see a look of hurt on his face.

“We both know it was more than that.” He states, staring at you, almost begging you to be honest with yourself.

“When has it ever been more than that for you, Colby?” You argue, taking aim at his long list of conquests.

“When it was with you." He answers honestly, leaving you shocked. “That night when we kissed, I thought that was it, you know? That me and you were finally on the same page about us. But when I woke up the next morning you were gone and I never heard from you."

"I wanted to save you the trouble of telling me it was a one time thing." You admitted, lowering your head, embarrassed to look at him right now.

"That's all you thought that was to me? Do you not know me at all?" The boy asks as you let out a nervous laugh.

"Yes, I know you Colby, which is exactly why I left! I've seen your countless one night stands walk out that door the next morning, hoping that you'll call them again and you never do! You just move on to the next one and I'm not judging you, that's who you are. I just didn't want to be one of those girls that expected more from you." Colby looks at you, shaking his head, a prominent frown on his face as he walks closer to you. This time you don't move, frozen still as he cups your face.

"But that's just it, you're not like those other girls. There's always been something between us, more than a friendship, more than just sex. You make me laugh more than anybody, I don't have to pretend to be someone else when I'm with you. You've seen me at my worst and you got me through it, you Kat and Sam. Baby, I was an idiot for so fucking long, dating people I shouldn't have dated, being friends with people who I didn't even like. But I know what I want now and I want you. I want everything with you." He confesses, as you try to hold back tears.

"Colby, I..."

“What, honey? Tell me what you want?” He asks, his face inches away from yours and you could easily kiss him right now.

You know exactly what you wanted. When it came to Colby Brock, you’ve always known.

You’ve wanted it before he ever put his lips on yours, before you ever let him take you in his bed all those weeks ago and before he ever muttered that you were his as he came deep inside of you for the first time.

You wanted him, all of him but you knew that was something that just wasn't possible right now. Just as you were about to speak, the front door opened and closed with a gentle bang, footsteps approaching the kitchen as you quickly broke apart.

"Hey." Sam spoke, removing his headphones as you placed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes moved to Colby, who he knew would chew him out for this later.

"Hi." You greeted, moving to give him a hug.

"I'm sorry, I totally just interrupted something didn't I?" The blonde boy questions as you shake your head.

"Yep." Colby nods as you shoot him a look.

"No you didn't, honestly. I was just leaving." You reassure Sam but Colby takes your hand. "Please, don't go, we still have things to talk about."

You bite your lip, eyes focused on Colby as he pleads with you to finish your conversation.

"I really need to pack Kat's stuff."

"Hey, it's ok, I'll take Katrina's things to your car and leave you guys to it." Sam says as you give him a thankful nod. Once he's gone, Colby moves towards you again, his hands finding yours as you look into his ocean blue eyes, trying not to fall deeper than you already have.

"Colby, you know how I feel about you. Jesus, I was never good at hiding it." You joke, earning a small laugh from him as his fingers circle your palm. "But, right now, Sam needs you, like Kat needs me. We can't be together when they're like this, still heartbroken and lost." You state, beginning to choke up.

"Why not?" Colby questions, raising a brow.

"Because if we're together and one of them eventually moves on with someone else, it's going to get messy. They'll fight about it, they'll ask us to take sides and then we'll fight about it and probably break up and both be miserable too! Everything's just too complicated right now, not to mention we'd have to do long distance because I'll be in LA and you'll be here and–" You ramble on as Colby places his forehead on yours.

"It kind of sounds like you've already thought about this a lot." He teases, as you wrap your arms around his waist.

"Being with you, is all I ever think about." You whisper before he captures your lips with his. For a moment, you finally give in to him, melting into his touch as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue over your bottom lip before he slides it into your mouth. He swallows a moan from within you, pressing you up against the counter as you grab his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He groans, placing wet kisses on your neck as you throw your head back. Suddenly, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you know it's Kat checking up on you. You had asked her to call you to make sure you didn't accidentally end up in Colby's bed upon your arrival and you were sure you would have ended up there if not for your best friend saving you at the last minute.

"Colby, shit, it's Kat." You whine as he finally detaches his lips from your skin. Once you told Kat everything was ok and that you were on your way, you hung up, both of you attempting to catch your breath.

"I really have to go." You state as he nods his head, pulling you close once more.

"Look, I know you think things might get complicated but that's only if we let them, right? I want to try and make this work, I want to be with you no matter what happens between them. I've honestly never felt this way about anyone before and I don't want to lose you." He confesses, kissing your hand as your knees almost go from under you.

"I don't want to lose you either." You reveal, a tear sliding down your cheek as he wipes it away.

"So, can we do this? Me and you, like officially?" He asks, grinning like an idiot as you shake your head.

"Slow down Mr. Brock, you haven't even taken me on a proper date yet." You tease as he kisses you again. "Oh, so it's like that huh?"

"Yeah, it's like that." You chuckle.

Well lucky for you I'm coming to LA next week, so how about I take you out then?" He suggests, as you wrap your arms around him.

"If we do this, we take this slow ok? Start with a couple of dates and see how things go?" You suggest as he nods in agreement.

"Sweetheart, we can go as slow as you want, just give me a chance to show you how happy I can make you?" He begs but you already know the answer.

Yeah, Colby Brock was a risk worth taking.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You don't show up to the game the next day, and Bradley has to face Molly's wrath when she comes in your place. His heart is broken as he feels the consequences of his words, but he finally realizes just how much you and Everett mean to him. Then he sees you at Everett's Career Day, but you're not making it easy on him.

Warnings: Angst, swearing

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley sat up most of the night in his sad apartment, sipping on a bottle of bourbon and feeling like a prize asshole. He had finally found a woman he thought he could settle down with, thought the three of you could maybe be a family, but he managed to fuck all of it up before you were even properly dating him.

This was just so on brand for him, it was laughable. Every bad decision that could be made about women, well he made them. He just had to go spouting off for weeks on end that he didn't date moms with baggage, and now Jake had made everything blow up in his face. 

The problem was, Bradley actually had said all of that shit, but that was before he really got to know you and Everett. It made him sick now to think about the implications of what he had said. 

You hated him now. He knew you must. He had managed to hurt your feelings so deeply, he didn't know if you would ever look at him again. But the truth was, Bradley was the one with all the baggage. He was the one who didn't know how to make the right decisions. He was the one who made everything too complicated. Not you. Not Everett. The two of you were perfect. And he thought for a moment that he could have you. But now he knew he had been wrong again.

And there was no doubt in his mind that Carole Bradshaw would be so disappointed in him right now. Because she would have reacted the same way that you had. She would have stood up for her only son and protected him no matter what.

He groaned as he got to his feet, swaying as he set down his half empty bottle of alcohol on the kitchen counter. He needed to get it together and make it to the tee ball game in six hours. 

You would be there! He could try to talk to you then. Unless you kept Everett home instead. Bradley felt like crying, so he just dragged himself to his bed and passed out with his uniform pants still on.

Bradley's alarm barely woke him up as he dragged his sandpaper tongue across his teeth and moaned. His head was throbbing, but he managed to get up and get right in the shower at the prospect of seeing you. He didn't have time to shave or eat, but he did make it to the ballfield early, just in case.

"You look like shit," Bob told him, and his expression was something akin to disappointment.

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley wasn't exactly sure how much everyone knew. He hadn't stayed at the bar for very long after you left, preferring to drink at home alone. Chalk that up to another poor decision made. 

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday." 

Now Bradley felt even worse, because Bob's relationship with your sister shouldn't have to be the collateral damage of his word vomit. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bradley's heart was skipping erratically in his chest, making his head throb more. When he saw Everett in his blue uniform, he squinted against the sunlight and almost took off running. But it wasn't you. It was Molly. And she looked pissed as hell. 

"I'll be right back," Bob mumbled and headed for her instead. Which was fine with Bradley, because now something much worse was happening. Everett was bounding toward him, and he didn't know how he was supposed to react. He just braced himself for the pain.

"Hi, Coach Bradley! See? I remembered to call you Coach Bradley instead of just Bradley since it's a tee ball day. When can we go back to the park again?"

Bradley wanted to cry. "Hey, kiddo. I missed you all week when I was away." And that was the honest truth. 

Everett just shrugged. "Practice was still fun, because my mom made it funny. And we won our last game, even though you weren't there. Do you think you can still win Coach of the Year if you missed a game?"

Bradley reached for Everett and pulled him in for a brief hug while Molly glared at him right past Bob's elbow. 

"Where's your mom, kiddo? Is she coming?"

Everett shook his head. "No, she was crying this morning, even though she didn't want me to know it. She does that sometimes, but it's usually only right after we see my dad."

Fuck. Bradley made you cry as hard as Danny did. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly feel worse, the honest words from a first grader twisted the knife a little deeper. Bradley had assured you that he was better than both Frank and Danny, but he was actually the worst one of the bunch. 

"You want me to help you with your cleats?" Bradley asked, and soon he was changing Everett's shoes while Molly kissed Bob on the cheek. He felt a tiny bit better that maybe he didn't fuck things up for Bob as well as himself. But then Everett said something that made him want to drink another bottle of bourbon and pass out. 

"Coach Bradley, are you still excited for the Phillies game next weekend?"

Bradley froze with the laces halfway tired on Everett's right shoe. He swallowed hard; in all of his fucking up, Bradley had forgotten about the upcoming game. He was going to have to disappoint Everett, because there was no way you would let him take your son to the game now. 

But he didn't know what to say other than, "So excited, kiddo." Then he sent Everett to start warming up while he pulled out his phone and tried to call you again. Voicemail. A second time. Voicemail. He'd left you so many messages already, but he decided to leave another one.

"Kitten. I'm sorry. I miss you. Please, Kitten. Please, call me back."

Bradley was surprised the Tiny Eagles managed to win the game. He was having such a hard time focusing as Molly's glare was burning a hole in his back. But every time he turned toward her, she was looking elsewhere. When the game ended, he took off in her direction, leaving Bob to clean everything up. 

"Where is she? Is she okay? Is she at home?" he asked Molly, who was finally looking directly at him as she stood up. 

"That's none of your business," she said, and Bradley knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with her, but he was going to try anyway.

"Molly, listen, I fucked up. I said that shit before I really knew her. Before I really knew what I wanted."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and the look on her face had Bradley taking a step backwards. "You called Everett baggage," she hissed as her eyes flashed. And if her sister was a Kitten, then Molly was a feral street cat that desperately wanted to give Bradley rabies. 

"Please, I'm begging you. Will you talk to her for me? Ask her to call me back?"

Molly's harsh laugh had him feeling hopeless. "She doesn't owe you anything, and neither do I. She's not your girlfriend. And now she's never going to be your girlfriend."

"Molly! What do I have to do to get her to talk to me?" Bradley asked, ready to beg on his knees for the chance to explain himself. "I made a mistake. But I care about her. And Ev."

Molly shook her head sadly at him. "Even Frank wasn't this bad. At least he didn't mind that she has a son. Who, by the way, is the sweetest child in existence." Now Molly looked like she was going to cry.

Bradley took his hat off and balled it up in his hands. He realized he probably looked insane right now, but he just needed to know how to get you to listen. "I can explain myself to her. I'll beg her to listen to me. I'll bring more flowers and more baseball cards for Ev. I'll-"

Molly cut him off with a jab of her index finger to his chest. "You can bring all the flowers and cards you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you're not good enough for her. You're not good enough for them!"

His voice was soft now, because he knew she was right. "Molly, please help me talk to her."

"You know, she wants to pull Ev from the team," Molly replied, picking up his gear bag as he ran over. Bradley felt sick; he wouldn't get to see you or Everett anymore. "The only reason she's not going to pull him is because of the friends he's made, and because she's a better person than you. But she thought about it. I hope you know you hurt her that bad."

Everett plopped down on the bench, and Bradley watched Molly instantly switch modes and turn into the loving aunt that she normally was. He really was bringing out the worst in everyone right now. 

When Everett was all ready to leave, and he and Molly were heading for her car, Bradley jogged up next to him. "Kiddo? Can you tell your mom something for me?"

"Sure, Coach," he replied, smiling up at Bradley like he always did. 

Molly was staring daggers at him again as he said, "Tell her I was wrong before, but now I have my priorities straight."

"Come on, Ev," Molly told him, taking him by the hand and pulling him along. "We need to go."

Bradley knew he wasn't like Danny or Frank, and he just needed an opportunity to prove it. But he didn't want to upset Everett who was looking back at him with wide eyes. "Tell her I miss her, and I can't wait to see her next time! Bye, Kiddo!"

"Bye, Coach!"

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

Luckily Molly was working overnight tonight and offered to take Everett to his game, because you were in no way ready to see Bradley today. Your heart was actually broken, and you were just so embarrassed. 

Your kid's hot tee ball coach. Could you possibly be any more predictable? Any more of a chiche?

You were still in your pajamas forcing down some toast when Molly brought Everett back home around noon. "We ate lunch," she told you. "Everett wanted the baseball Happy Meal toy."

"Thanks," you mumbled, knowing that your little sister who spent the night holding your hand wouldn't judge you for looking like a mess right now.

"Mommy, are you sick today?" Ev asked, and your heart sank.

"Yeah, Ev. I'm not feeling great."

He set his Happy Meal toy down and started taking off his shoes. "I know what will make you feel better! Coach said he missed you! And he can't wait to see you next time. And that he has his prior tires straight."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "He means priorities."

"Yeah. Priorities," Everett said, agreeing with her. 

You felt like crying all over again, and now your phone was vibrating with another call from him. You ignored it as Molly told Everett to grab a snack and eat it out on the back deck. Once he was out of earshot, you told your sister, "He keeps calling and texting me. I don't understand why he cares so much, since I'm clearly a joke to him and all of his friends."

Molly sprawled out on your couch. "He actually seems upset, and I am telling you that begrudgingly, because I want to hate him."

You twisted your fingers together, afraid to know, but you asked anyway. "Did he say anything to you?" 

"Yeah," Molly said with a laugh. "Plenty. He begged me to get you to talk to him. I honestly thought he was going to plead on his knees. He said he made a mistake, and he doesn't feel that way now at all."

Oh. Well that was interesting. Your phone vibrated again. 

"And Bob said Bradley is an idiot, but he didn't think he was actually trying to hurt you," Molly added. "Of course I also asked Bob if he knew that Bradley felt like kids were baggage and moms were a waste of time."

"What did he say?" you whispered, setting your phone down before you caved and answered it.

"Bob said he would find it hard to believe that Bradley actually felt that way now, based on how much he loves you and Everett. He used those words, not me."

Your heart was pounding as your doorbell rang, and Molly sprang up to answer it. "Oh, shit," Molly mumbled as she carried several huge bouquets of colorful flowers into the kitchen.

As you opened the card attached to the first one you picked up, your eyes went wide. All of the cards said the same thing, written in Bradley's handwriting. 

I'm so sorry, Kitten. You and Everett are NOT baggage. You're perfect. I didn't mean it. Please, talk to me.

"Well, you don't need all of these flowers, so I'm taking some to my apartment," Molly said, kissing your cheek as she scooped up a few bouquets. "I'll come by in the morning after work."

And then she was gone, and you were sitting inside a massive floral display with very mixed emotions. 

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

Bradley went home and drank the rest of Saturday away until he was asleep. If Molly wasn't willing to help him, and he could understand why she wasn't, then he would have to figure this out on his own. Because at this point, he didn't know what he was going to do without you and Everett. He needed you. He needed to fix this. 

On Sunday morning, he took a shower and got himself cleaned up. Two days of looking like a disaster was enough, so he dumped the rest of the bourbon down the drain as well. Then he grabbed the one thing he needed and drove to your house, nervous as hell that you wouldn't answer the door for him even if you were home.

He parked behind Molly's car and sighed. She was acting as your bodyguard right now, that's how badly he had fucked up. Either you or Molly didn't want you to be left alone. He climbed out of his Bronco with the binder tucked under his arm, and he made his way up to your front porch.

Before he could even knock, the door swung open to reveal an exhausted looking Molly in wrinkled scrubs holding a cup of coffee. "What do you want now?" she asked, and Bradley stood back far enough that she would probably miss him if she tossed the coffee. 

"Will you please tell her I'm here?"

"She's not home," Molly replied coolly. 

"Her car is in the driveway," he replied.

Molly sighed. "She's soaking in the tub, and she doesn't want to talk to you."

Bradley ran his hand over his face, unsure how much he should push. But then Everett came bounding out onto the porch and into Bradley's arms.

"Coach! I mean Bradley! What are you doing here? The Phillies game isn't until next Sunday! And Career Day isn't until Wednesday!"

Bradley's heart clenched with need. If he couldn't take Everett to the Phillies game, he didn't know what he would do. The kid would be crushed, and truthfully, so would he. 

He knelt on the porch and held up the binder. "I just came by to give you this," Bradley told him, really examining his face. He looked so much like you. He could see some of Danny there as well, but there was no denying that Everett took after his mom. 

"What is it?" Everett asked, but when he opened it and saw the plastic pages filled with baseball cards, his eyes went wide. "No way! Are these for me?"

"Yep. All yours, kiddo." Bradley had grabbed one of his binders at random, and probably just handed a six year old a collection worth a thousand dollars. But he didn't care. It didn't matter. Bradley swallowed hard and glanced at Molly before he asked Everett, "How's your mom?"

Everett just shrugged while he looked at the baseball cards. "She said she doesn't feel good. Something must be hurting her, because she keeps crying sometimes."

Bradley let the feeling of dread wash over him as Molly sipped her coffee. "Do you think she would let me take you to the park and pitch some balls?" he asked. But before Everett could even get excited, Molly cut him off.

"Not today, Ev. Remember, I'm taking you to the movies after lunch."

Bradley pressed his lips together and patted Everett on the shoulder as he stood up. "Another day, then."

When Bradley pulled away from the curb, Everett was waving to him while holding the baseball card binder, and Molly was standing behind her nephew, flipping Bradley the middle finger. 

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

On Monday, Bradley flew like shit. He couldn't pay attention, and he was honestly a little nervous that someone was going to get hurt. 

"What the fuck was that?" Nat asked him once they were back on the tarmac. "I'm team leader! You need to listen to me!"

"I'm sorry," he told her. "You're absolutely right. I'm just distracted today."

"If this is about your Team Mom, you need to leave it on the ground." Nat was seething, and she had every right to be. "I know Jake blew your cover, but I tried to tell you from the start that if you were interested in her, you needed to get used to the fact that she has a kid!"

Now Bradley was seething too, because nobody seemed to want to listen to his side of things. "I am used to it, Nat! I got used to it real quick! And I wouldn't want it any other way!"

"Then sort your shit out or leave it on the ground!" She stormed away from him without another word. 

Then Bradley saw Maverick strolling his way and he tightened his grip on his helmet. "Listen, Bradley. I don't know what the hell happened to you in Lemoore or what your weekend was like, but you can't be flying like that. It's a liability. I'm grounding you for the week."

"What the fuck, Mav!"

But he just held up his hand. "There's no point in arguing with me. The Admirals don't want you in the air for a few days." Then he turned and headed back to the tower leaving Bradley alone in the bright sunlight. 

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

You skipped practice on Monday. It had been three days since Bradley had seen you, and the only thing holding his heart together was the fact that Everett was still happy to see him. 

"Hi, Coach Bradley!" he called with a wave as he ran ahead of Molly. 

When Bradley headed toward the bleachers to help him change his cleats, Bob grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him. "Hey, I'd steer clear of Molly if I were you. She's not your biggest fan at the moment." At least Bob's face looked sympathetic. 

"Yeah, I noticed."

Bob just kind of shrugged. "I took her out for dinner last night, and I tried my best to let her know you're not going to hurt her sister."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered. At least there was one person who didn't think he was horrible. 

Molly stood to the side and let Bradley tie Everett's cleats while he rambled on about how excited he was for Career Day. When he paused to take a breath, Bradley asked, "How's your mom, kiddo? She feeling better?"

"She's at a work meeting with someone named Frank," Everett replied, putting his Phillies cap on backwards to match with Bradley. He didn't like hearing that you were with Frank, potentially alone. But then Everett added, "She's still sad, too. She took my stuffed Phanatic to sleep with it. I think she remembered that you said it was good for if you're having a hard time."

Bradley closed his eyes for a beat. "You should go start warming up," he whispered, and Everett was off like a rocket running toward Bob. 

"She did give me a message for you," Molly told him as she sat on the bleachers and blew a kiss to Bob, who immediately started blushing. 

"What did she say?" he asked, preparing himself to beg her. 

"She wants you to stop sending flowers. I took some home, and she donated the rest to a nursing home. She said if you can't seem to stop, you can just send them directly to Bright Senior Living so she doesn't have to drive them there herself."

"Fuck," he growled, dropping down on the bench next to her and burying his face in his hands. He sat there for a bit as Bob started practice without him. He was so far out of his element. He had never chased a woman before in his life. He never saw the point in it until now. If he could figure out what to do, he would do it immediately. 

"You actually care about her?" Molly asked softly, and Bradley turned to look at her. 

"Not just her. Everett too. I can't get enough of either of them." His eyes were stinging as he watched Everett round the bases. 

"Then why did you call him baggage?"

Bradley stared at the turf. "Because I was terrified of falling for someone who was outside of my wheelhouse. Someone with more substance. Someone who would make it impossible to stop thinking about them." He stood, realizing it was time to go help Bob. "I'm an idiot. Truly, Molly, I do understand that. But I said all of that shit weeks and weeks ago, when I was just starting to realize that your sister meant something to me."

Molly nodded at him, and just as he was turning to head toward home plate, she said, "Then show her you care about them. And tell her what you told me. I'll let her know I can't bring Ev to practice on Thursday. And I'm pretty sure you're still on the roster for Career Day on Wednesday."

Bradley's heartbeat was speeding up. He felt more alive than he had since he was with you at the Hard Deck. "Thanks, Molly."

"Don't thank me. I'm still pissed at you. I just want my sister and nephew to be happy."

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

You left work at lunchtime on Wednesday and headed to Everett's school. When you planned out a five minute presentation for his class, you realized he was right: you did have a boring job. How you were supposed to make accounting interesting for a bunch of six and seven year olds was beyond you. It also didn't help that you were having the shittiest week ever. 

Not only were you missing Bradley and trying to get over him, you had been forced to stay late and work with Frank on Monday. Well, he had volunteered to stay late when he heard you were going to. And now you couldn't even lie to him and say you were seeing Bradley to get him off your back. 

With a deep sigh, you opened your car door and headed across the parking lot in your suit and high heels, the hot sun making you uncomfortable in your long sleeves. 

And then you heard his voice in person for the first time since Friday night. "Kitten."

You turned to see Bradley walking up the sidewalk in his flight suit, boots, and aviators looking impossibly handsome. You had been listening to his voicemail apologies last night, but the way he sounded in person made your spine tingle with need. 

You tamped it down. "What are you doing here?" you asked, not bothering to look at him as he caught up to you.

He was silent for a beat. "Everett invited me."

You scoffed. "Well, I'm uninviting you."

"Kitten. Please."

"No," you said sternly. "Why even bother if he's just my excess baggage?"

Bradley stopped walking, and when you turned to look at him, he had the same expression he had worn after you slapped him across his cheek. "He's not," Bradley rasped. "He's perfect. And so are you. And I don't want to make him upset if I don't show up."

You rolled your eyes. "Come on." He followed you like your shadow, his warmth at your back. You thought maybe he was going to touch you when you signed both of them in at the office and got name tags. It seemed like he wanted to, like maybe he was holding back. And as much as you wanted to scream in his face, your body was betraying you by craving his touch.

"This way," you told him, and when you entered Everett's classroom with Bradley next to you, your son's eyes lit up. He waved at both of you from his seat, and you had to plaster on a smile. Before giving it too much thought, you grabbed one of the empty seats between two other parents, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. 

You sat politely and listened to Harper's mom talk about neurosurgery. Then Peyton's dad talked about construction equipment. You gave everyone your full attention, firmly ignoring Bradley. You didn't even look at him once while you stood in front of the class and talked about how important math is. 

Once you were finished, you kissed Everett's forehead before you returned to your seat. But then it was Bradley's turn, and you couldn't help but look at him.

"Hi, I'm Lieutenant Bradshaw, and Everett invited me here to talk about flying jets called Super Hornets." Every pair of eyes was glued to him as he gave a riveting presentation. Everett was practically vibrating with excitement at his desk, clearly so proud to have brought the most interesting adult to Career Day. You also noted that every woman was drooling over Bradley, including Everett's teacher. 

It was crazy to think that for a short time, you thought he was going to be yours. 

When everyone was done speaking, you popped out of your seat and told Everett you'd pick him up in a few hours, and then you were making a beeline for the door. You could hear Bradley calling your name, but you just kept going all the way to your car. 

"Kitten, please!" He was right behind you now, and you saw his big hand shoot past your shoulder and hold your door firmly closed. "Can we talk?"

You turned to face him, and you were taken back to every single time he had walked you and Everett to your car after tee ball practice. 

"About what?" you whispered. He had caught you off guard. You meant to start yelling, but all of the warm feelings he gave you were right there at the surface.

His eyes went a little wide as his lips parted, seemingly surprised you weren't shouting at him. "I'm sorry, Kitten. I fucked up. I should have never said those things, because I didn't even mean them."

You couldn't meet his eyes as you asked him, "Why did you say that to your friends? I feel humiliated. I feel like you think Everett and I are a joke."

"No!" he said, keeping his hand against the door and leaning a little closer to you. "You're not. And he's not. I said that so long ago, because I was instantly attracted to you, Kitten. And that terrified me."

You felt the fight draining out of you, and you knew you needed to get in your car and leave before he saw you crying. But instead you said, "Maybe you're right though. We're a lot to handle. I shouldn't have expected things to be easy."

When you turned and tried to open your door, Bradley held it shut. "Will you look at me?" You glanced at him over your shoulder as you felt tears stinging your eyes. "You and Everett are not a lot to handle. You're the perfect amount. Being around both of you makes me feel so good, Kitten." 

You swallowed hard and shook your head. "Thanks for coming today, I guess. It made him happy."

He let go of the door and ran his thumb across your jaw. "I don't think I would be able to live with myself if I made him cry."

You nodded and ducked away from his hand. "I'll figure it out. Make it so that this doesn't break his heart."

"Don't say that, Kitten. I still want to take him to the Phillies game on Sunday. I want all three of us to go," he whispered as you turned your back fully to him again. 

"I don't think that's a good idea."

You could feel his frustration rolling off of him, and his voice sounded panicked. "Where does that leave us, Kitten? Do I even stand a chance now?"

"I don't know. I need to get back to work. Bye, Coach."

This time he let you open the door, and he closed it softly once you were inside. When you pulled away, he just stood in the parking spot watching you. 

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

Bradley ended up at the Hard Deck after Career Day at Everett's school. He was grounded from flying, you'd just told him you didn't know where he stood with you, and he was probably going to make Everett cry at some point this week.

He ran his hands over his face and nursed a beer for a while. When Nat and Jake showed up, eyeing him cautiously, he thought it would be to his advantage to just head home. He handed Penny some cash, but Nat rubbed his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry I screamed at you on Monday."

"I deserved it," Bradley replied. "I wasn't being safe."

"You look fucking miserable," Jake drawled, leaning on the bar next to Bradley.

"You're literally the last person I want to talk to right now," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "Thanks for Friday night."

Jake just shook his head. "Hey, I was just trying to get in her pants, okay? She's gorgeous, and you made it pretty clear the last time we talked about her that you were not interested."

Bradley couldn't even get mad, because Jake was actually right. "Well I'm pretty fucking interested in her now, okay? Stay out of her pants."

Jake just grinned. "I think I know what might help."

"This sounds suspicious," Bradley muttered, eyeing Jake cautiously. "Let's hear it."

"You still planning on going to that Padres game this weekend?"

"I don't know," Bradley groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

"Well," Jake said as he signalled Penny for a drink. "My landlord's son is the head groundskeeper at Petco Park. I can try to pull some strings if you think it will help."

Bradley gaped at him. "Do it."

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

Molly is the sister I wish I had! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 14

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[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Drinks: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader

This is part of the Quiet series

Ghost held the door open for you and let you walk into the pub first. He directed you towards the bar and made sure you were sat in a place that you wouldn't be bothered in before he sat next to you.

The outing hadn't been planned, which was the reason why it was just the two of you, and it was only just a day before the two of you would be flown out for another mission.

Neither of you seemed to mind however. Ghost felt restless and needed to go out before he left and you had been melancholic since he had found you underneath your bed. It killed two birds with one stone; a chance to cheer you up and a chance for him to stretch his legs.

"You drink bourbon?" Ghost wondered and you raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever seen me drink it?" You signed with a confused smile and he huffed out a laugh. "Do you?"

"Yeah, Kentucky."

Ghost ordered a glass for you both, smiling when you gave him an incredulous look. When the drinks were sat out in front of you both, he lightly clinked his glass with yours.

"Give it a try. You might like it." He lifted up his mask and took a sip, letting the burn warm his chest and ignoring your eyes on his mouth.

You hummed and studied your glass. You swirled it around pensively before you raise it up to your nose and smelled it.

"You a connoisseur?" He teased and you sent him a look. "It won't kill you."

You raised the glass to your lips and he saw you hesitate. He gently tipped the glass forward and you sipped some of the alcohol. He chuckled when you shivered, your face screwed together for just a moment before the burn went away, leaving you feeling warm in your chest.

"Smooth." You signed with a small smile and he snorted.

"I'll buy you something different-"

"No. I like it."

Ghost watched you take another sip and suppress a shiver. He didn't say anything but smiled as he drank more of his own. He could see some of the tension leaving your body as you settled in the chair next to him.

"Once it warms up we'll go on more walks together." He said and your eyes brightened up.

"Good, I've missed them." You signed with a warm smile that had his heart skipping a beat.

"I have too."

A funny thought crossed his mind and he clutched his glass a little tighter. He would consider you a friend, everyone in the task force was his friend, which was why he took it upon himself to walk with you whenever you got like this. However, he found himself thinking about things to do with you when you weren't upset.

Things that were less platonic than what he considered before.

Sure he had an odd thought here or there when he was alone at night, he had an inkling you did too, where he thought about what it would be like to feel you around him, but these thoughts were more then just carnal lust.

Dinners, movies, anything else that would be fun he thought about it. Thought about how you'd smile, thought about how you'd laugh, how you might cling to him...

He wanted it, more than he wanted to admit even to himself.

"Next time we'll go somewhere else." He signed and you tilted your head. "Not a fan of using this place to ease nerves."

Your eyes widened and you nodded, glancing down at your drink. You stared at it in thought before you took another sip, your eyes more downcast than before.

"Does it get better?" You wondered and his face fell.

Ghost didn't have to ask what you meant. He wished he didn't know. For him it was years ago, for you he wasn't sure but he figured it had to be incredibly recent for your scars to not be faded. He was more or less better, not the same and definitely still had days that were worse than others but you...

He stayed quiet for a moment, avoiding your sad eyes as he stared down at the amber liquid in his glass.

"Eventually. It's hard and you'll fuck up a lot." He said softly before he got the courage to look at you.

You stared at him sad yet accepting eyes. You almost looked relieved if it weren't for the pain that he desperately wanted to take away. You let out a long sigh and nodded.

"But you have the team." He added and you smiled.

You have me, he wanted to say.

"Thank you." You gently clinked your glass with his and took another sip.

Ghost grunted and took a sip as well. He didn't know what else to say so he didn't say anything at all.

The two of you went silent, taking in each other company but also enjoying the calm and cozy atmosphere that the pub had. He barely paid attention the news or the rugby match that was playing on the TVs before he felt a weight on his shoulder.

He glanced down and saw you leaning your head against him, your chair scooted closer to him. You didn't look up at him and he couldn't see your face but he didn't need to.

He didn't shake you off or move. Instead he let the warmth spread across his chest while he fought against pulling you closer.

a/n: somebody in love

Tags: @thedevillovesflowers @buckysjuicyplums

[vicsy]

Had no idea what to pitch so I literally looked up one word prompts and chose the first few. Pick whichever inspires: Daniel x Max + Sunburn/Tease/Emerge/Afternoon/Impulse/Nurture/Rough/Polaroid/Good

maxiel + polaroid, sunburn

"Drink?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. Can't stay long. Duty calls!" Daniel makes an exaggerated gesture. Max cracks a smile. He probably follows the pundit stuff Daniel does more than actual racing these days. "Just wanted to pop by since you're back to calling Monaco home. Nice place, mate."

If not for the sim rig installed in an empty guest room that could have been a nursery in a life he brushed aside, nobody would have ever guessed Max lived here. His new apartment was clean, spacious, incredibly faceless. A simple home for a creature of habit Max always was but not quite a home.

"I wanted to go watch the race this weekend," Max admits and pads through the cluttered living room to the adjacent kitchen, straight to the fridge. It's shiny, sophisticated and very empty, except for a monthly supply of Red Bull and yesterday's leftovers. He grabs a can for himself, wishing he had that beer Daniel used to love. "But I am of course happy to see you after, well. Who knows, yeah?"

Couple years, give or take. Max stopped counting after turning thirty-three.

Behind him, Daniel claps his hands together. Max throws a surprised look over his shoulder, blindly rummaging in the fridge. The shine of Daniel's smile hasn't diminished over the years, but the crow's feet around his eyes, Max discovers, are more prominent than he remembers. He wonders if Daniel notices the little changes about him, too; if he cares for them at all. Max does.

"Oh, congrats on your team winning, uh, another virtual racing thingy," he delivers the line with that old, addictive enthusiasm and, to Max, it's a gut punch. He schools his face, a lump forming in his throat. Daniel gives him a thumbs up, turns around and walks along the empty shelves attached to the TV wall. The lack of decor there makes it look kind of pathetic. Max had only managed to put two of his WEC trophies on display, a helmet he wore for the last race and a nice-looking box of assorted knick-knacks dear to his memory. "Any plans to decimate Le Mans this year, Mr Three Time champ?"

"Fernando is busy with Dakar, so probably I'll skip it. Oscar texted me about doing it next year together, so," Daniel's back is facing him still. Max closes the fridge and opens the Red Bull can, places it on the kitchen counter. Stares at it for a second or two. Then, out of a long-forgotten habit, Max goes for a poorly planned half-joke. "Didn't know you started watching iRacing in your old age. Quick, what's a livestream?"

It's a desperate attempt to even the gap between now and before. Daniel flips him a bird without looking, too occupied with whatever he found on Max's sad little shelves.

"Har, har, fucker. I mean, I gotta keep myself in the game, everything is changing, like, a lot. And, come on, it's you–" he stops talking. Max takes a sip from the can, watching Daniel finally face him. "Huh. Didn't know you still have these."

Max has gone lengths without having to experience a solid enough crash and the debilitating aftermath reverberating through his body. In the sun-flooded apartment, on the freshly turned page, it catches up to Max as abruptly as a rainstorm in the summer.

Forty-three year old Daniel is standing in his unfurnished living room, a splotch of color among the backdrop of generic white paint and a mount of unpacked boxes. Forty-three year old Daniel, with a sprinkle of salt in his hair and a tan line on the ring finger of his left hand, looks at Max like he's a ghost from the past, like it's him who just had to ruin everything when things got too real. He wasn't there when Max paid the price of his own happiness in retaliation.

Forty-three year old Daniel, who sent out an invitation to a wedding Max never attended, holds up two tiny polaroids taken almost a decade ago and all Max can think of is his signature on the divorce papers, the ink still wet.

He swiftly closes the distance to Daniel and snatches both pictures from him, cradles them to his chest. Daniel's hand is left suspended in the air between them. Max ignores the wobble in between his ribs. His eyes trace the line of the rose tattoo in the direct line of vision, memory bristling, anger thrumming underneath his skin.

"I kept them," Max spits. He doesn't mask the bitterness in his voice. He had it bottled up long enough the cork had gone rotten.

Daniel stares back, mouth slack. He looks good and Max hates that, hates his stupid colorful hoodie and his meager attempts to make amends. Above all, Max hates himself for ever conceding. Daniel has always had one foot out the door. Missed chances were Max's fuel and they've still propelled him back to square one.

"Yeah. I figured," Daniel says, too soft, too familiar. Placating. Max should ask him to leave.

Instead, he drops his gaze to the polaroids laid flat on his palm. They're in good condition but Max also hadn't looked at them in months, maybe years; it doesn't matter since those Daniel and Max, everything they stood for, ossified and turned into dust. It doesn't keep Max awake at night anymore.

Out of the two photos, only one comes from the Red Bull PR department. They never cared when it went missing. Max remembers the video they shot too starkly to be unbothered it ever happened — him and Daniel in matching team gear, insane rain in Monaco; Max winning that weekend and Daniel watching from the pit wall.

The other polaroid, a bit rough on the edges, had never seen the light of day. It captured just a part of Max's sunburnt face, a corner of his smile; Daniel's lips pressed to his cheek, his wet curls in disarray. Max gets a phantom ache in his chest when he remembers how the camera ended up in the sand, falling off a small table where they had propped it up against a half-empty cocktail glass.

Daniel cups Max's hand holding the photos from underneath, painfully hesitant. Max flits his eyes up to the hollow of Daniel's throat, to his full beard; to the pleading look stabbing daggers into the soft edges of Max that were once hard and unforgiving. 

Stashing those polaroids was Max’s way to forget he wished to go back. He was never the one to leave in the first place; that was Daniel's sworn prerogative. But he's in Max's living room now, a lifetime away from running.

"Max–"

"I think," he cuts in before Daniel makes it worse or gives him hope. His hand slips from Daniel's hold and Max retraces his steps back to the kitchen. Daniel tracks his every move. "I think I will put them here."

He sticks the polaroids to the enormous fridge door with a Welcome to Monaco magnet he fished out of a nearby drawer. The photos look whacky but, to Max, it's a long shot. He lingers in place, berating himself for giving this another chance. 

When he turns back around, Daniel is just an arm's length away.

"About that drink," Daniel says, low. Max watches his tongue dart out, wetting his lips. His heart jackhammers against his ribs.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Max's back hits the fridge.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence fic abou

[runningfrom2am]

one day (w.h.b)

summary: you and billy talk about what happens when you die.

pairing: william h. bonney (billy the kid) x fem!reader

wc: 3k

tags/warnings: non-descript and brief mention of implied suicide (nothing graphic i swear), other than that its pretty chill honestly, kinda sad but also happy at the end but mostly fluff and honestly pretty cute.

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them! i do love to answer little things and hc's about my fics tho so if you want to talk ab this pls also drop it in the box!)

nav / billy the kid masterlist

a/n: credit to @goosita for getting my mind reeling on the concept of ghost!billy! this has been living in my mind and in my drafts for months omg

The hoofbeats of your horse underneath you set the pace for the steady rock of your hips as you make your way across the countryside on an unmarked trail Billy had memorized. One town to the next, just like always. On the run from something new that didn't really matter much to you as long as he was still by your side.

"Your name is pickin' up a lot of attention these days." You comment mindlessly, disrupting the peace of the night.

Billy makes a small sound of acknowledgment, clearly not pleased by that fact but unwilling to deny its truth.

"You know, I don't know what I'd do without ya." You add after a moments quiet, filled only by the crickets and steady slow hoofbeats beneath you. "If they got what they wanted, I mean."

"I dunno." Billy shrugs, voice slightly grim. He didn't even want to think about it; not for the sake of his own death, but god, whatever would end up happening to you.

"I'd follow you, I think." You say quietly, looking up at the stars.

He quickly shakes his head, expression tightening further. "Don't say that."

"You may not like it but it's true." You argue gently. "I ain't got much else to do here. What would I do, wander the west like now but all alone, sad and mopin' and waiting on the day death comes for me so I can see you again? I think I'll pass."

"Well there's not much use in you wandering around mopin', you gotta... I don't know, go out for trail rides, find some good friends. Hell, maybe settle down and get married." He suggests with a slight laugh.

You look over at him, raising an eyebrow with a slightly smug smile. "We both know that ain't ever gonna happen. So you see what I mean, then. I just decided to... skip the mopin' part."

Billy gives you a deadpan look, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "Oh, so you're just takin' the efficiency route, is that it?" he quips, his tone laced with annoyance. "No more mopin', straight to the grave with ya."

"Yes." You nod, and after a moment a small smile pulls at your lips. He was upset, of course he would be, but you know he won't stay mad at you for long. "You know, it would be real romantic, I think. Sharin' a grave. We could just be cuddled up forever; I can't think of anything better. Of a better way to go. Can you?"

"I can think of somethin' better," Billy mutters in response, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not havin' to share a grave until we're both old and grey, and dyin' peacefully in our sleep. That'd be a hell of a lot better, darlin'."

"It would." You agree, smiling over at him. "And when the time comes I'll rest easy. But, ah... the life we live..." You shake your head slightly, looking down at the worn leather of the saddle under your thighs that has served you well for most of your life.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he says, his tone affectionately exasperated. "You had this whole... plan all figured out, and you were just gonna go with it without even complainin'? Not a care in the world, just ready to join me in a premature grave."

"Yeah." You answer softly, smiling as you look over at him in the dim light your eyes have well adjusted to. "I love you, Billy. I'd do anything for you."

Billy's expression softens further, and he gives you a weary smile. "I know you would, darlin'," he says quietly. "And I love you too. More than words can say. I just..." He sighs, shaking his head slightly. "I just don't want you givin' up on your whole life if somethin' happens to me. I ain't worth you sacrificing everything, love."

"If I had anything left to sacrifice, you would absolutely be worth it." You tell him, shaking your head. "But it doesn't matter, because I don't. I've got nothin' except the very thinly veiled hope that maybe one day I might be happy again without you. And that... I don't feel good about those odds."

Billy's heart clenches in his chest, a pang of pain and sympathy filling his chest and his heart in a way that makes him feel stiff all over. "Darlin'... you gotta know that ain't true," he protests, his tone earnest. "You're smart and beautiful and kind. You could have a good life, with or without me. You just gotta-" But he falters, realizing he's not convincing you. His expression falls with a sigh.

"Those are all real nice things to say, and I appreciate it." You tell him genuinely, smiling sadly at him. "But think of it this way, it doesn't matter much now, does it? We got you out of the jailhouse for now, so we hopefully got a long time before death comes for us. And god forbid it does come early, I'll still be a young and pretty ghost, that would be nice, wouldn't it? I dunno what I'm gonna look like when I'm old, but I've had older ladies tell me I'm gonna wish I looked like this forever. If I was a ghost, I could." You say cheerily, trying to make him feel a little better about it.

Billy can't help but chuckle at your response, shaking his head at the audacity. "Only you would look at bein' a ghost as a positive thing, darlin'," he teases, his tone affectionate. "Most folks would find that pretty darn scary, you know. But then again, most folks ain't you."

"Well, I picture that we would look just about the same. Maybe a little pale, like that time we both had the flu last year." You giggle, looking over at him again and ignoring his secondary comment. "But everything else would be pretty much the same. We could read ghost books and dance to ghost music and just be together without fear of losin' each other ever. I think it would be kinda sweet."

"You make bein' dead sound like a walk in the park," he teases. "Like it ain't nothin'. Just floatin' around as spirits, listenin' to ghost music and readin' ghost books. Maybe playin' some ghost cards, even."

"Ghost cards!" You grin, pleased that he was going along with it. "You think the ghost cards are transparent like we would be? Would make it kinda hard to play poker."

Billy can't help but smirk at your enthusiasm, amused by your excitement. "I don't know, darlin'," he says, playing along. "Maybe ghost cards are made of some special ghost material that ain't see-through, but still lets us float right through 'em. Or maybe we just play ghost poker blindfolded, make things a bit more interesting."

You laugh at that, shaking your head. "Billy, if the cards are ghost cards we wouldn't go through 'em. We would only go through things on this side. Walls, living people, that kinda thing. I think ghost stuff we'd still be able to touch like normal."

"Right, right," he says, playfully rolling his eyes. "I keep forgettin' you're the expert on ghost things, darlin'. I'm just a livin' person, what do I know? But hey, if we can touch ghost stuff, that means we could probably hold hands. And I gotta say, bein' able to hold your hand as a ghost sounds mighty nice."

"Of course we could hold hands," You say, smiling as you glance his way again. "Just like now, I'd hardly ever stop."

Billy grins, reaching out to take your hand in his across the gap between your horses, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'd be holdin' your hand all the damn time, darlin'," he says, his tone playful. "Ain't no way I could go more than five minutes without holdin' onto you. You'd have to pull me off of ya."

"Maybe, but I never would." You shrug, feeling fuzzy inside from the feeling of his warm hand around yours. You had to slightly lean his way to reach him while you rode side by side, but you didn't mind. Just like always.

"That's good, darlin'," he says, his tone soft and affectionate. "Cause I'd never want you to let go. We'll hold hands for eternity, you and me. Ain't nothin' better than bein' close to you, love."

"Forever." You agree with a small smile. "And in a hundred years, people will come to our grave talkin' about the infamous Billy the Kid and his girl whose name was lost to time- and if you go behind the old saloon at night you'll see 'em still holdin' hands, hear 'em laugh. On a good day, maybe they'll even kiss." You giggle through a whisper, lightly swinging your joined hands.

Billy chuckles, a broad smile spreading across his face at your description.

"Oh, I like the sound of that, darlin'," he says, his tone light and almost excited. "People comin' to visit our grave and talkin' about us in hushed whispers. Seein' our ghost hands holdin' each other, hearin' our faint laughter. Maybe some young lovers will come to the grave and kiss, thinkin' it brings them good luck. Ain't that romantic?"

You let out another soft sigh, nodding in agreement. "And we can watch with ghost popcorn and place bets on whether or not they'll last."

Billy laughs at your suggestion, his eyes lighting up with amusement.

"Ghost popcorn and bettin' on lovers' fates? Darlin', you've got all the best ideas," he says, grinning. "That sounds like a pretty good way to spend eternity if you ask me. Cheerin' on the young 'uns and seein' if they make it or not. And I'll be bettin' on them to make it, every time. I'm a bit of a romantic at heart, after all."

Your smile shifts into a small happy pout. "That's sweet, baby." You say softly. "But I'll be lookin' out for red flags on 'em. And if he gives me any kind of strange feelin', I'm gonna whisper in her ear to run. And then, that'll be part of it. "Billy's unknown girl sure knows how to pick 'em right," they'd say."

"Well, we'll make an excellent ghost power couple, then," he teases. "You pickin' out the bad ones and me rootin' for the good ones. We'll be like matchmakers from beyond the grave. And I gotta say, the thought of people talkin' about 'Billy's unknown girl' and her ability to pick 'em right is definitely somethin' I can live - or rather, die - with."

You nod happily. "May take a while for people to trust me, but kids'll catch on quick." You say with a shrug. "Some young girl will be talkin' to her friend about her new boyfriend who she's not just sure about, and her friend will tell her to bring him to our grave. Because her cousin came to us for a kiss of good luck, and she swears up and down that she heard a girl whisper in her ear tellin' her to run from him and she didn't. Then she found out he'd been cheatin' with the preacher's daughter the whole time. I can see it now."

"You've got it all figured out, baby," he says. "Word'll spread soon enough, that our grave is the place to come for relationship advice. And once people hear about you whisperin' in girls' ears, they'll be beggin' to come visit us. Maybe they'll even start leavin' offerings for us, like we're the ghost gods of love and romance."

"Yeah. Flowers for me and bullets for you." You grin, very pleased with this story you've spun up for yourselves.

Billy grins back at you, amused by your suggestion. He looks ahead again, feeling the weight of the reins in his free hand as he looks at the long and endless path ahead. It feels almost lighter than what he's used to.

"Sounds perfect to me, darlin'," he says, chuckling. "I'm sure our grave will be the prettiest in the cemetery. You'll have flowers galore, and I'll have bullets stacked up like a fortress around me. A fitting tribute for the outlaw and his love, don't you think?"

"I think so." You smile, giggling as you think about him sitting on some kind of ghost throne made of bullet boxes. The idea of him having some kind of legacy left in a way people would want to honour instead of condemn makes you happier than just about anything else could. He was a good man, and no one these days knew that.

"I doubt anyone will know much about me, but... I'm not sure I mind." You say after a moment.

Billy shakes his head, his expression fond. "Darlin', trust me, people will know all about you," he says firmly. "They'll know you were the gal who loved the infamous Billy the Kid, who wasn't afraid to risk herself by sneakin' into a jail at night for him. They'll know you were the gal with fire in your eyes and a sharp wit. The gal who saw the world through different eyes, and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. People ain't ever gonna forget you, love."

You smile a little bit, nodding as you look back at the trail ahead. "I hope they bring my sunflowers." You say softly, rocking steadily with the movement of my horse. "Or drawings of horses. I wanna see these girls' horses in exchange for savin' them the trouble of a cheating man." You giggle. "And I hope they think I was pretty. I think that'd be pretty sweet."

Billy's smile grows and he slightly shakes his head. If anything of your memory could last, to him, it would be your beauty. Your absolutely enchanting gaze, the way your hair seemed to shine in the sun, and that smile that could brighten even the darkest of nights. No one knew him quite like you, but any man would be a fool to not see how lovely you were.

"Oh, darlin', I've no doubt they'll bring sunflowers and pictures of horses," he says. "And they'll think you were the prettiest girl who ever walked the earth. They won't even need to have seen a picture of you to know it, they'll just know from the love and loyalty you had for me. You're gonna be the stuff of legends, honey. The mystery girl who brought the infamous outlaw to his knees."

You look over at him again, a soft smile on your face. "I sure hope they don't see that literally." I giggle.

Billy chuckles, his expression amused at the subtle implication. "Oh darlin', I could think of worse things to be remembered for," he says playfully. "Maybe they'll even start a tradition of young girls bringin' their boyfriends to our grave and havin' them kneel down in front of you. Like they'll be thinkin' you're the goddess of love and loyalty, blessin' their relationships."

"Sure, but then I'd have to turn to ask you if they were doin' it right." You giggle. "If I should give them my blessings or not."

"Well, I reckon I'll have to take on the role of your faithful advisor then," he says with a bright laugh. "I'll be sittin' right by your side, watchin' as they kneel down in front of you. And if any of them don't look serious enough about their girl or if their form is off, I'll be whisperin' in your ear. Tellin' you to make 'em kneel a little longer."

"Nah, you gotta tell that to her- not to me. I can't make 'em do anything, but if he's good for her, she'll be able to make 'im listen." You shrug. "If he's good, if he's anything like you, he'd rather listen to her than to a ghost."

"You make a fair point, darlin'," he says with an amused grin. "I suppose I could whisper into her ear instead. Encouragin' her to stand up for herself and make sure her man's treatin' her right. And if he's anything like me, he'll listen to her and only her. But I still think I'll get a kick out of watchin' those boys kneel at your feet, darlin'. Just seein' a little bit of my influence in the world."

"I dunno if I need other boys kneelin' for me." You say, scrunching up your nose a bit at the thought. "I think I'd rather it be you."

Billy laughs, his eyes gleaming with affection. "Well, darlin', I think I'd prefer you have me on my knees anyway, and only me," he admits, his tone playful. "But the thought that young fellas comin' to our grave and kneelin' in front of you to ask for your blessing, it just makes me feel a little... proud. Like my love for you will keep on goin' even after we're gone. People ain't gonna forget about us, darlin'. They're not gonna forget about you."

You let the quiet sounds of the night overtake you after that, riding along the outskirts of an unfamiliar town by now. You can see the buildings in the distance, squinting a little at the abundance of bright lanterns. You wonder if they're celebrating something, but you're not quite close enough to hear.

"Hey, look at that." You say, gently tugging on his hand before letting go and pointing over toward the lights in the distance. "You ever seen somethin' like that before?"

"No, baby. I haven't." Billy answers, squinting a little as well and leaning forward to see past your shadowed silhouette. "They've sure got some bright lanterns over there. Maybe they're celebratin' somethin'."

"Maybe." You agree quietly, shrugging it off and continuing on.

It's too dark to see well enough, though, and you're both too distracted by the lights of the town as you pass by the Old Fort Sumner cemetery on your other side, careless and ignorant of the grave sight fifty or so feet away. Caged up, covered in bullets and flowers and coins- offerings for the Bandit King and his girl, who died as they lived.

Occasionally, on dark and clear nights like this, the local kids would claim to hear laughter or see the young couple on their horses riding through the country, just outside of town. No one was lucky enough to see the echo of them tonight.

follow my library for notifications when i post something new! @runningfrom2am-library

but i will tag a couple of my favs bc you guys write SO well for billy and i love it and reading all your stuff inspired me to finish this up and actually post it so thank you :')

@milliesfishes @francixoxoxo ily xx

[lowkeycasanova]

Idk if your requests are open if not respond to the Privately but So idk if you actually feel comfortable writing for Luffy I am looki for one piece x reader writers who have the requests open and came across you anyway I request takes place after the time skip where reading I ask Luffy if next year they can celebrate Ace with Luffy aka next year on the day of his death instead of feeling sad they want me make sure Luffy is happy so they will spend the entire day doing things would love like eating us favorite foods and doing things he would love

A Day For Him

The sun was setting over the Thousand Sunny, casting a warm, golden glow over the deck. The rest of the crew started heading inside while Luffy stood at the helm, staring at the horizon. His straw hat cast a shadow over his eyes but you could still see his fixed gaze. It's been a year since the crew reunited and tomorrow will be three years since Ace died. Luffy had come to terms with his death, but the pain still lingered.

From a distance, you watched. Your heart aching for him. When you had first heard the news of the events at Marineford, the only thing you wanted to do was to be by his side. You'd seen Luffy smile, laugh, and fight with unyielding determination, but you also knew the quiet moments when the weight of his loss pressed heavily on his shoulders. You then took a deep breath and resolved to make tomorrow a day filled with joy and love, and where Luffy could remember Ace without the shadow of sorrow.

As the first light of dawn broke, not a single cloud marred the sky. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm and inviting glow over the calm sea.

"Land, ho!" Nami's voice rang out, breaking the serene morning silence. She pointed to a lush, vibrant island on the horizon. You all gathered around, excited by the prospect of a new adventure.

When the ship docked, everyone disembarked with eager anticipation. The island was a paradise of beautiful flowers, towering trees, crystal clear streams, and a vibrant village. Luffy led the way with a wide, genuine, smile on his face that made your heart soar.

The crew split up, each member heading off to explore their own interests. As you wandered through the bustling city, the air was filled with different scents. Luffy's eyes sparkled with excitement as he didn't know where to look first.

After a while of being on your own, you went looking for your crew mates.

"Oi, look at this!" Luffy shouted, his mouth full of some fruit he had stuffed in there.

Didn't take long to find him at all.

He dashed from vendor to vendor, barely pausing to chew before sampling the next delicacy. His as appetite insatiable as ever.

"Don't eat the whole thing in one bite Luffy!" Usopp reprimanded.

"Yeah, save some for us!" Nami chided, although her tone was more playful. This time.

As the day wore on, the crew reconvened at a local bar. Zoro had already been there, as you saw the empty sake bottles in front of him. Nami arrived with an armful of shopping bags, eyes glinting with satisfaction. Luffy, of course, dived into his food head first. You founds yourself caught up in the camaraderie. It felt good not to worry about enemies and just have fun. Plus, the pain of the past was momentarily forgotten in the warmth of the present.

When the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you all made your way back to the Thousand Sunny. Anchored near the shore, the ship felt like a safe haven, a place where you could relax and simply be together. The deck filled with laughter and the smell of Sanji's cooking.

Luffy, surrounded by his nakama, felt a sense of peace. The words, "I still have my crew" rang in his mind. But y'all weren't just his crew, but his family. And today, was a celebration of the man who had meant so much to him.

You took a moment to admire your captain.

He sat cross-legged, his hat tipped back as he gazed up at the stars beginning to dot the sky. You joined him, sitting quietly by his side. The silence was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that today had been a good day. The stars seemed to shine a little brighter that night and you know that Ace's flame would never truly be extinguished.