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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months ago

Text

Sunk Cost

Pairing: Tom Bennett x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, death and injury. Mild angst and mentions of PTSD. Smut. Word count: ~4.8k

Summary: Following the Battle of the River Plate, she is deployed to the Falkland Islands to tend to the survivors of the HMS Exeter. Some of the naval officers are in better shape than others, and when one in particular makes it his mission to bed her before shipping back home, she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Author's note: Based on this request. No tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. "Conchies" is slang for conscientious objector.

She had travelled aboard the SS Lafonia to the Falklands, accompanied by two doctors and eleven other nurses to treat the injured of the HMS Exeter following the battle of the River Plate.

Having qualified as a nurse almost five years ago, she was experienced in dealing with blood and injury and, in the days spent sailing across the South Atlantic Ocean, she had been steeling herself for the inevitable carnage she would be witness to.

Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the utter devastation she was met with upon arrival. Pulling back the canvas flap of the medical tent, the smell was the first thing to hit her, pushing her backwards like an invisible, oppressive force; burned flesh and the rancid, yet somehow sickly sweet scent of decay.

Everything from minor burns to missing limbs needed to be treated, but those sailors were the fortunate ones, they still drew breath. Seventy two British sailors had lost their lives defending against German forces.

It would be two weeks until a boat arrived to collect those fit enough to travel back to England, so those able bodied enough to do so assisted with dressing wounds and changing bed pans. She was grateful for the help as, despite there being fourteen medical staff to attend to their patients, it was overwhelming and she was tired, so tired.

She had smiled, though it had not quite reached her eyes, as she’d been introduced to the private that would be assisting her on her rounds.

“Name’s Tom, Tom Bennett,” he’d greeted her with an incline of his head and a lopsided smirk.

“Nice to meet you, Private Bennett,” she’d replied as politely as she could, discreetly taking him in.

He stood around six feet tall, a mop of sandy coloured hair atop his head. He was classically handsome with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose, and carried himself with a self assured swagger that emphasised the fact that he knew he was good looking. She could have overlooked his vanity, were it not for the fact he was apparently cocky in every other respect too.

Her exhaustion had worn her patience thin, however, she was certain that the sailor assigned to helping her with her rounds would have grated upon her nerves even with a full night’s rest. She found his unwavering smirk and continual stream of flirtatious remarks wholly inappropriate, considering the situation they found themselves in. There was no doubt in her mind that he had fought bravely and his service upon the Admiral Graf Spee was to be highly commended, but it didn’t mean she had to enjoy his company, she merely endured it.

“Private Bennett, I need to give this patient a sponge bath, can you please dispose of these dressings?” She asked, keeping her tone curt as she seated herself beside a cot.

“My turn next, yeah?” He quipped cheekily, causing her to press her lips into a tight line to suppress the urge to sigh.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, her stern gaze wholly unaffected by the way the blue of his sparkled with mischief. “The dressings, Private Bennett.”

“You can call me Tom, y’know,” he said airily, the smirk on his face never faltering as he snatched up the dirty bandages and turned to walk away.

“I’d rather not,” she muttered wearily to his retreating form, turning her attention back to the sailor laid dozing in the cot beside her.

All of her rounds were much the same; Tom trailed behind her, flirting shamelessly, and every remark made her blood boil. For the patients yet to regain consciousness, she could mercifully ignore him. However, for the sake of maintaining a pleasant bedside manner for those who were lucid, she had to smile, laugh and remain polite.

As the days dragged on, she found herself wishing the boat coming to ferry Tom Bennett back to England would arrive sooner. Attempting to keep her temper in check and not give him a well deserved telling off in front of everyone was becoming as exhausting an effort as it was caring for the wounded. He was a pain in the arse.

It had been a particularly demanding day - several of the patients being treated for severe burns had developed infections - by the time the next nurse arrived to relieve her of her duties, she was desperate to be off of her aching feet. Sitting down heavily upon a bench in the rest area, she fished her cigarette case from her apron pocket, flipping it open and placing one delicately between her lips. Before her hand could reach for her matchbook, a flash of flint followed by flame ignited in front of her, illuminating the end of her cigarette into a bright, cherry red glow.

She blew out a tight line of smoke, her eyes narrowed in displeasure as she looked up at the smug face of Tom Bennett. The sight of him was enough to spoil the pleasant taste of tobacco that she usually revelled in upon her first drag. The corners of his mouth were upturned into a self satisfied smile, his eyes crinkled in quiet amusement as he looked down at her. He always looked like he was entertained by a joke that only he was privy to, it drove her crazy.

“Thanks,” she said curtly, taking another drag.

“Anything for you, gorgeous,” he winked, seating himself beside her and lighting up a smoke of his own.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she muttered darkly, gazing off into the distance, her lips pursed.

“Do what?” He mumbled around his cigarette, keeping it perched at the corner of his mouth.

She sighed, pressing at the point between her eyebrows with the thumb of her free hand, an absentminded gesture of exasperation. “Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”

Tom snatched his cigarette from between his lips, holding it between the forefingers of his right hand as he raised his palms in a defensive gesture. “Enough misery ‘round ‘ere, ‘int there? Jus’ tryna make you smile.”

“Well, you’re not,” she spat, taking a quick puff, savouring the short burst of lightheadedness that the nicotine rush afforded her.

He gave an easy shrug, fixing her with a dopey grin. “Well, I don’t see anywhere ‘round ‘ere where I can buy you flowers, so my witty charm will have to do.”

She scoffed, flicking away her butt, and rose to her feet, storming off.

“See you tomorra, yeah?” he called after her, “unless you want someone to help warm your cot tonight?”

Fucking prick.

Sleep evaded her that night. Tom had gotten under her skin. It made her furious that with so many men injured and dying around them, he failed to see the gravity of their situation. How could he be cracking jokes and making clumsy attempts to seduce her in the midst of a war? He needed to be taught a lesson, to be taken down a peg or two, and she decided she was the person to do it. Perhaps if the tables were turned on him, then he’d realise just how inappropriate his behaviour was and feel rightfully ashamed of himself.

The following day, as Tom accompanied her on her rounds, she laughed heartily at his flippant remarks, allowed her fingers to linger against his as he passed her bandages, and stared deep into his eyes every time she addressed him.

“Lucky sod,” he’d jested as she’d dabbed gently at the burns on a patient’s chest.

“You’ll get your turn later,” she’d quipped back with a wink, causing his jaw to fall agape. He’d been quick to close his mouth again, averting his attention to the floor as his cheeks had turned crimson.

It was obvious her being receptive to his advances was having an effect on him. All day she saw the way his eyes widened in disbelief, the slight blush that crept into his cheeks when she returned his flirty banter. He was uncomfortable with not being given the brush off, and she was enjoying every second of it.

“What are you playing at?” His voice came from behind her, as she was rifling through the medicine cabinet, searching for a bottle of iodine. It was a quiet corner of the medical tent, partitioned off from the sick beds for medical personnel to replenish supplies and dose out medicine.

“What do you mean?” She asked casually, not turning around as her hands continued to move aside brown bottles. She hoped the clink of the glass was enough to disguise the hint of amusement in her voice, and if not, at least he couldn’t see her smiling.

“You’re flirting with me,” he stated simply, though his voice didn’t carry its usual confidence.

“Am I?” She replied with faux innocence, casting him a glance over her shoulder.

He wasn’t standing as straight as he usually did, his brow was furrowed and he had his hands clasped in front of him. He was nervous.

Good, she thought.

“I–I think so, yeah…”

She rounded on him, closing the distance between them, delighting in the way his posture visibly stiffened as she pressed close, placing her palms against the broadness of his shoulders.

“I guess I finally figured there’s no use in denying what’s between us,” she cooed, “can’t fight it any longer.”

“Yeah..?” He asked, blinking rapidly, lips parted as he stared down at her with wide eyes.

“Absolutely. You deserve a reward, Private Bennett,” she said, reaching up to card her fingers through the softness of his hair. “You fought so bravely, it would be an honour for me to give myself to you. You’re a war hero.”

His face blanched, and for the first time since she’d met him, she saw the corners of his mouth turn downwards, a flicker between anger and sadness causing his brow to furrow and his gaze to dull. He grasped her wrists gently, moving her hands back to her sides, before quickly walking away.

She had expected to feel triumphant in managing to fluster him enough to get him to back down, but she didn’t. It was wholly unsatisfying, a heavy feeling of guilt sat like a stone upon her chest. There was something in her words that had utterly knocked the wind out of Tom’s sails, she had pushed too far. She hadn’t embarrassed him, she’d crushed him, and the worst part was she wasn’t entirely sure what she had said that had caused such an unexpected reaction.

He was quiet for the rest of her rounds, silently following orders, not meeting her eye when he spoke or was spoken to. It was as though all the light had gone out of him. He didn’t hang around for a smoke once she was relieved of her duties, so she was forced to follow after him as he strode back to the sleeping quarters reserved for uninjured naval officers.

“Hey, wait!” She called out, her feet hurrying to keep up with his longer gait, finally falling in step beside him. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He stopped, huffing out a sigh as he turned his face upwards, briefly closing his eyes, before looking back down at her. “Forget about it,” he muttered, “message received loud and clear. I won’t hassle you no more.”

She was left standing there as he walked off, leaving her alone. Despite what he said, she knew forgetting about it was the very last thing that she would be able to do.

Her rounds were miserable over the days that followed. Tom didn’t laugh, he didn’t smile, he didn’t even speak unless spoken to. As reluctant as she was to admit it, she missed his jokey flirting. Whatever this was, the silence and sadness that hung between them, she hated it. She couldn’t question it in front of patients, and as soon as his obligation to her was fulfilled for the day, he hurried back to the naval quarters, making it clear he had no desire to speak to her.

Even the patients had started to notice it - of course they had - the stony silence that the pair worked in was a stark contrast to Tom’s usual annoyingly proud and jovial demeanour.

“Lover’s quarrel?” A private with a head injury asked playfully, as she pulled away his dressings to check on the wound.

Tom spoke before she had the opportunity to respond, his tone arrogant and steeped in annoyance. “Nope, just focusing on the job, mate. Got a ship coming to take me away from here tomorra, and the quicker I’m on it the better.”

She felt her heart lurch at his words. So preoccupied with the fact that Tom was refusing to speak to her, she had completely forgotten that he’d be leaving soon. Now his departure loomed imminently and the thought of it made her chest tighten uncomfortably. He couldn’t just leave and never speak to her again without giving her the chance to make amends, or to help her understand what she’d done wrong in the first place; that wasn’t fair.

He didn’t even look at her as she turned to him, instead he handed her the clean set of bandages he’d been holding and walked away, leaving her to finish up with her patient alone.

“Must be nice,” the injured private remarked, as she pressed the clean dressing to his wound and bandaged it up. “Wish I was leaving.”

“Me too,” she uttered softly, a sombre feeling settling over her as she realised she was talking as much about herself as she was the patient she was treating.

Tom was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day, and she was left to complete her rounds by herself. She supposed she would grow used to it once he left. The strain they were under would be lessened by those fit enough to travel on the boat tomorrow being removed from their care. However, she felt like she was missing a part of herself without him at her side; like looking at the wall and not being able to see her shadow cast upon it. The weight of his absence would fade, but the hurt and uncertainty wrought from his disdain would not. She needed to put things right before he sailed away from her tomorrow, or she would forever live with the guilt of it.

She waited impatiently for the rest of the day for nightfall, deciding that if this was a conversation she was going to pursue then it was better to do so without witnesses - or at least when those witnesses were asleep - the canvas confines of both the medical bay and sleeping quarters provided very little privacy.

Once it was suitably dark, she made her way to the large tent that housed the cots of the naval officers. The humidity made the night air sticky and it clung to her skin, feeling as thick as the inky blackness of the sky above her. A wave of nervous apprehension washed over her as she reached for the canvas flap - what if Tom was already asleep, or refused to speak to her? What if other sailors were awake and questioned her reason for being there?

A simple white lie of delivering pain relief could deal with the latter of those problems, but she had no idea how to deal with the former. Before her pounding heart and trembling hands could convince her otherwise, she pulled back the partition, greeted by darkness and the gentle snores of those who were asleep. A few kerosene lamps were lit by the beds of those who were still awake, their dull glow illuminated the men that were sitting up reading, smoking or playing solitaire with playing cards spread out across their blankets.

Her eyes searched the gloom for Tom, half expecting him to be fast asleep. Finally, she spotted him, and her stomach erupted into nervous flutters as she saw that he was still awake. She felt as if she was intruding upon something far too intimate, seeing him in the tight white t-shirt and briefs of his underclothes. He laid upon his front, the legs of his tall frame almost hanging off the edge of the cot as they crossed over at the ankle. The low lighting that glowed across the sharpness of his features cast long shadows across his corner of the tent, however, it was not dark enough to hide the yellow canary that fluttered around the small cage that he had balanced upon his pillow. His attention was so focused upon the bird and its shrill twittering that he didn’t even notice her as she stepped carefully towards him.

“Who’s this then?” She asked quietly, once she was a few paces away from Tom’s cot.

His head snapped up quickly, brows raising in surprise as he took in the sight of her, almost as if he couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him. He cleared his throat, shifting onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow before responding. “Her name’s Vera.”

“Vera…that’s a pretty name,” she said, offering him a soft smile as she fidgeted awkwardly with her fingers, forgetting everything she had wanted to say to him.

He lifted the cage, placing it gently on the floor between his cot and the tent wall, then looked back at her. “So what brings you ‘ere then?”

“You won’t speak to me,” she replied. Her voice sounded small, sad and vulnerable to her ears, and she loathed it. She had come here to apologise and then leave, not get upset.

“Usually, people take a hint when that happens, they don’t barge in on them when they’re going to bed.”

His reply hit her like a physical blow, and he must have seen the way her face fell, as he was quick to follow it up with; “But I guess I can’t blame ya for wantin’ a peek at me in me undercrackers.”

She felt instantly lighter as she saw the playful grin spread across his face, turning hers away as she felt her skin grow hot.

Silence fell between them once more and she drew in a steadying breath before lifting her gaze to his again. “I couldn’t let you leave without knowing how sorry I am,” she stepped closer, “I don’t know what I said that ticked you off exactly, but what I did I did with the intent to teach you a lesson, to humiliate you, and that was wrong. I was sick of your flirting, but I realise now that after all you’ve been through that you were just trying to make a horrible situation a lighter one. You’re so brave, and–”

“I’m not fucking brave,” he snapped, making her jump.

“What?” She moved to stand directly beside his cot, her head tilted slightly in confusion.

“I’m not brave,” he repeats, his voice turning to the hushed tone he’d used previously. He scrubbed a hand across his face and fixed her with a tired stare. “I’m not a war hero.”

She blinked rapidly, furrowing her brow as she perched upon the edge of his makeshift bed. “Is that what got you upset? Because I called you a war hero?”

“Do you know why I joined the Navy?” He asked, shuffling back to make more room for her to sit within the narrow space.

She shook her head, allowing him to continue speaking.

“Was avoiding the nick,” he uttered, sniffing. “I’m not a hero, I’m a coward dodging a stretch in prison.”

She was surprised by this, but not repelled. He was hardly the first man to join up to the draft to avoid the authorities, and he would be the last. She sighed softly, looking him in the eye. “That doesn’t change any of what you’ve been through, or how bravely you fought aboard that warship. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Well, I’m not,” he said sullenly, “I’m not going back. The minute I get back home that’s it, I’m done with this bloody war.”

“You can’t do that,” she told him softly, suddenly feeling afraid for him.

“Why not? It’s not my fight. I saw people fucking die. I don’t wanna give my life for something I don’t believe in.”

“You could be hanged for desertion,” she argued, a hint of desperation in her voice. Before she had time to think about it, her hand reached for his, grasping his fingers with her own.

“Dad’s a conchie,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers, “I could be too.”

She glanced down to where their hands were joined, almost wanting to scream in frustration. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Well, what am I s’posed to do?” he seethed, snatching his hand back, leaving her to silently mourn the loss of the contact.

“I can’t convince you to do anything, Tom, but please talk to your dad before you make a decision you can’t take back.”

“Y’know, that’s the first time you’ve called me that,” he said, his expression softening.

“What?”

“My name. It’s usually always Private Bennett. I like it when you call me Tom.”

She averted her gaze, feeling her skin blaze with embarrassment once more. “I guess I should get going. Us talking’s probably keeping people awake.”

His hand shot out, grasping hers once more as she rose to leave, making her freeze in place.

“Stay,” came his softly uttered plea.

“There’s all these other people,” she protested in a quiet voice, though she sat back down.

“I just want you to lay next to me. We probably won’t see each other again after tomorrow, and I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

“I dunno…”

“No funny business, I promise,” he said with a smirk that immediately crumbled her resolve. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright…”

Tom laid out straight and pulled the blankets up around himself, holding one side up in silent invitation for her to join him. She slid underneath, not realising quite how tight the confines of the single cot were until her body was pressed right up against his.

Wordlessly, he leaned over to turn out the lamp, then turned to face her, slinging an arm over her waist and closing his eyes.

She laid there with her eyes open, just about able to make out his features in the darkness. The humidity combined with the heat of Tom’s body and the blankets thrown over them made it uncomfortably warm, and it was an effort not to squirm. But that wasn’t her only means of discomfort. It was difficult to keep her breathing steady and her body from trembling in spite of the heat; she hadn’t anticipated being in such close proximity to Tom to have such an effect on her. The feeling of the long, lithe muscle of his body pressed against hers made her pulse race and her core throb with desire, though the sensation was intermingled with pangs of guilt. He was seeking comfort in her, and here she was lusting after him when she’d spent the last two weeks berating him for doing the same to her.

His breaths fanned softly across her face, and she was convinced that he had fallen asleep, until his grasp on her waist tightened slightly, his fingers digging into her flesh. She froze at the intimacy of it, ashamed of the way desire pooled between her thighs at the gesture, until he ducked his head to bury it into the crook of her neck.

“Help me,” he whispered against her skin, a desperate plea for something, anything to make him feel better.

She reached up tentatively in the darkness, her fingers stroking through the silkiness of his hair. He sighed contentedly in response, and the sensation made her shiver, causing an involuntary tug at his tresses, making him groan and grip her tighter.

“Please,” he murmured into her neck. His hips began to grind against hers, the evidence that he was just was affected by her as she was him more than apparent as it pressed repeatedly against her.

Before she had time to consider the absurdity of it all, she hooked her thigh over him, prompting him to roll onto his back as she straddled him. Her chest rose and fell erratically as she stared down at him. He looked back with wide, imploring eyes, his fingers flexing firmly against the swell of her hips, urging her into action.

The touch was enough to ground her, to give her pause to realise they were in a tent full of sleeping sailors, that she’d rebuffed all of Tom’s previous advances, that come tomorrow she’d never see him again.

She swallowed thickly, trying to move off of him. “We shouldn’t.”

“Please,” he repeated with more urgency, his grip upon her tightening, stilling her and preventing her from moving away.

It was the begging of a desperate man, a man who had seen awful things, who was afraid to die, who was sailing away tomorrow into uncertainty. How could she say no? And how could she deny herself? Over the last two weeks she had seen unimaginable horrors, worked tirelessly, didn't she deserve a little fun?

She allowed the throbbing between her thighs to guide her actions as she reached beneath her skirt of her uniform, tugging her knickers to one side. Tom’s breaths grew unsteady as his eyes watched her in the darkness, his own hands moving to push down his briefs.

As the swollen head of him pressed against her entrance she felt that she was aroused, though not wet enough to make his passage an easy one. She had to rise and sink down repeatedly against the upward thrusts of his pelvis before the tight muscles of her heat finally yielded to him.

Sinking all the way in to the hilt, Tom hissed loudly, earning himself a quiet scolding from her. “Quiet, or you’ll wake people up.”

He bit his lip as she rocked her hips gently, allowing herself to adjust to the intrusion. It had been a while since she’d been with anyone this intimately, and it stung slightly, though the pain was not unpleasant.

She gazed down at him, seeing the crease between his eyebrows as they furrowed against the intensity of his pleasure and the effort to stay quiet. Seeing his face contorted into such a state, even though the darkness prevented her from seeing him clearly, was enough to have her sensitive walls clenching with desire, and she took that as her prompt to begin moving in a steady rhythm, lifting up as she rocked forward, then down as she pulled back.

“Fuck…” Tom murmured under his breath, his fingers leaving indentations in the flesh of her hips.

“Does that feel good?” She asked, her voice breathless with exertion.

“Y–yeah…don’t stop.”

In that moment, none of it mattered; the sheen of sweat upon her skin, the other people asleep around them, it all faded to nothing. Her only focus became the man beneath her begging for more and the exhilarating ache each time the head of him brushed against a sensitive spot deep inside of her.

“You’re so brave, Tom, and you’re doing so well, making me feel wonderful,” she breathed, as she moved atop him.

His expression was one of utter submission and pure adoration, his eyes were glossy with pleasure, his full lips were parted. He clung to her as though he was a drowning man and she was his lifeline, and she supposed she was in a way. She served as a much needed moment of respite when all around him was fear and uncertainty.

She could feel her peak beginning to crest alongside his, his cock pulsed inside of her with each spasm of her core. She pulled off of him as white hot waves of pleasure crashed over her, stifling his groan of satisfaction with a hot, messy kiss - the first they’d shared - as she tightened repeatedly around nothing and he spilled himself across his lower abdomen.

He laid against her chest afterwards, once he’d cleaned himself up, and she cradled him to her breasts, gently ruffling his hair. A satisfied ache had settled between her thighs, and her eyelids felt heavy with tiredness.

“Will you write to me?” He asked quietly.

“If you keep your promise, Tom, then I might not know where to write to.”

He hummed quietly before falling silent.

“You will keep your promise, won’t you? You’ll speak to your dad?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, almost thoughtfully, “I promise.”

Tom left the next day, and she didn’t see him again, though he often crossed her mind. Six months later, when she was stationed in a hospital in Paris, her heart stuttered in her chest as she looked upon the familiar, yet bruised face of a man laying unconscious in the ward she was working in. She smiled as she approached the bed and looked upon the sleeping form of Tom Bennett. He’d kept his promise. He was a hero after all.

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directdogman · 7 months ago

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OKAY so i randomly dug through the callum crown wiki page (which im guessing you dont moderate?) but SINCE WHEN???

Believe it or not, some DT fans have known about this for a while now! It should probably be phrased in the past tense since he obviously isn't exactly partying in his nursing home, but yeah, during his presidency/time at the UN, Crown regularly used cocaine.

Believe it or not, this was actually decided really early on, but there's only 2 actual references to it in DT media, a short mockup story I wrote years ago and obviously the newest story. It's never brought up in-game because Norm doesn't know about it + Mingus obviously wouldn't bring it up even IF she knew about it.

Crown was a workaholic with insatiable appetites who rarely slept and saw his life as something that was purely in the service of others and the betterment of humanity. He saw it as an ethical obligation to do as much as possible while president and never took time to himself. Crown's habits were an open secret at the time, but it wasn't obvious to most since Crown had a phone head (meaning key symptoms like his face appearing pale + his pupils dilating obviously didn't apply) and was already very energetic, erratic and kinda twitchy. He very much acted the part long before he picked up the habit.

If you asked Crown about it, he'd probably tell you that his addiction was a sacrifice, putting his body through extra strain so he could stay awake for longer, have more energy and shake more hands, complete more work and help more people. It's the same reason he frequently modified his phone head in different ways in order to increase the efficiency of different parts of his brain.

I don't think I need to tell you that this kind of decision-making came with very large drawbacks, a notable one being the strain it put on his relationship with both Marla + Milt, who were both immensely concerned for his well-being while he was solely preoccupied with his mission to create a better world for ALL of humanity.

I think this makes sense, when you consider where he came from. Crown was not treated with respect or approval until he proved his own usefulness to others (and thus wanted to maximize that quality) and of course, was singularly devoted to his goal of lifting all humans out of poverty. Most of all - creating a world where he would've had the same opportunities even IF he hadn't had the know-how/ability to find a way to leave his garage. Nobody left behind - at all costs.

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diejager · 2 years ago

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Ooo I just love how you write platonic yanderess

Can you write a platonic yandere Ghost with his little sister😗

Of course. Of course.

Pairing : Big brother Simon "Ghost" Riley & little sister reader

Cw: canon violence, death, Ghost background, death, murder, dark, platonic yandere, protective Ghost, murder, mental breakdown, depression, trauma.

Wc: 1.3k

The last thing he wanted people to know - even his team - was about his civilian life, the secrets he held under lock and key near his heart, and a hard appearance. He protected what little was left of his old life fiercely, he wasn't Simon Riley anymore, he was "Ghost" now and that's all people knew. All the pain and torture he went through, from digging himself out of his grave to finding his family murdered, dead in the home they thought safe.

He remembered going home, exhausted and ecstatic to see his family, he celebrated Christmas with his family, drinking and eating at Tommy's house, you sitting next to him - your older brother. He was lucky that everyone was free that night, you both had unpredictable schedules, him being a red beret and you a field medic. Although he never had the chance to work with you, you were always skilled with your hands, bandaging and nursing his wounds.

You fixed him up when your dad got too drunk, Simon used to wrap himself around your body and receive every hit and berate of degrading insults your dad liked to spew. Simon protected you and you played his nurse until it became too real, you left for military service a few years after him, wishing to help the one who protected you so often.

He left to drink with friends on the eve, military buddies, you promise to come back once you got something from your flat near the edge of Downtown Manchester (it was a bit far, but always noisy, it helped quell the nightmares that silence brought).

He rushed home when he finished with whatever Sparks had done, ending him and his accomplice. They knew where he was before, it put his family at risk, then the call he got only solidified his fears when he stepped into Tommy's house, door open and lights off.

He found you sobbing, kneeling over Tommy and Joseph's bodies, cradling them. The dread and devastation he felt were overpowering, his life in the military had cost him his happy family. He was served revenge on a silver platter, a few scrapes here and there, but you two had disappeared in the dead of Christmas.

Everything from public relationships to your face was a risk, and somehow, he managed to keep you by his side wherever he served. You were the medic and him the lieutenant; (Name) and Simon Riley were dead, simply Doc and Ghost. That's how the world knew you and how Task Force 141 called you. Doc and Ghost, stuck by the hips, wearing similar masks and worked spectacularly together.

You were the last of his family, of the life he had before the murder - his dreamy heaven - so he kept you close, he protected you like he did when you were younger. If they got too close, he'd dispose of them immediately. Your safety was his top priority, whatever he did was for you, and the purpose he built himself was to ensure that you'd live.

He wanted you to stay, the agonizing pain of feeling lost and alone was harrowing, and he couldn't risk the chance of losing you too. They haunted him in his sleep, the memory of their deaths and his regrets, it all loomed over him like a reminder of his mistakes - his failures. The 'what if's lingered in his mind, the 'should have' and 'could have' becoming a mainstream of his thoughts when he looked at himself in the mirror; what if he never joined the army; what if he was there that night; he should have been there with them, instead of drinking at a bar; he could have saved you the grief and pain he felt, the one you shared like an open wound.

It should have been him.

He told himself that so many times, to you and himself, always mumbling about it at night, pointing the finger at himself for the loss. You stayed by his side, smaller arms wrapped around him like a blanket of comfort, warm and reassuring with words that pushed back his demons. He loved you so much, for being here and for always sticking to him.

You don't blame him for it, he doesn't understand how you don't, he saw it as his fault for bringing the enemy home.

"'S not your fault, Si," you whispered to him, his mental state too fragile for loud noises. His ears were ringing, almost so loudly that he thought his mind would implode on itself. You knew he felt everything much stronger, being the eldest of the trio he felt more responsible. "You're not to blame, Si. None of it, ya understand?"

He liked how your hands held his, gripping him tightly to bring him back to earth, far away from his violent mind. You supported him when he crashed and he held you when you broke, their deaths never left you, it simply brought you closer together than you'd think possible.

You closed yourself from others and built a wall of brick and cement, yet you smiled and socialized freely, you spoke enough for you both - or so Ghost insisted. He grew colder, callous, and brash with others, reserving his sweeter and softer side for you.

He stood near you, practically looming over you with his height of 6'4, broad shoulders, dark fatigues; a giant wall of muscle, you'd tease him, though you knew he was only protecting you. He's grown wary of everything that tried to approach you, he would stand before any approaching figure and glare them down.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, you were told from the file Price sent you, walked to meet you, smiling broadly and eyes squinting from the bright sun that bared down on the base. Besides him was Gaz, Kyle Garrick, olive-skinned and leaner than both males - blockheaded blokes, you called Simon and Soap.

His newly formed habit stood out the moment Ghost moved to block you from their sights, standing high and sneering when they stood feet away from you. You saw them flinch, hesitation seen through their eyes before they closed in, greeting Ghost who stared at their hand.

"Doc, pleasure meeting you, Soap, Gaz," you moved around Ghost, tapping his forearm reassuringly, his tense form slumping slightly. "He's Ghost, sorry 'bout him, he's not much of a people's person." Ghost huffed as you shook their hands, peering between them to the other duo approaching: Captain John Price and Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Ghost acted once more, moving to guard you even though he knew Price prior to the formation of Task Force 141, you both knew him. You shook his hand, bowing your head lightly out of respect for the experience and battle-hardened man.

Other than guarding you, he hoarded your attention like a dragon hoarding his gold, keeping you by his side wherever he went as much as he stuck to yours. Per your conditions, you and Ghost would always be assigned together, and Price sympathetically complied. You bunked together and ate on the same table, he warded away unsavory glances and you lashed out at those that glowered at Ghost.

Although you'd burn the world for Ghost, he took it a step further, he took it upon himself to take care of whatever plagued you. Be it harassment from a fellow soldier, he'd disappear the next day; be it an unintentional threat to your safety, properly disposed of; be it someone who's trying to get close to you, too close to you, would find themselves jumping into an oncoming train.

He did as he should to keep you from harm, any kind that would mean losing you. A desperate man takes desperate measures, and Simon "Ghost" Riley is the most desperate elder brother in the world.

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indoglobalhomecare · 5 months ago

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doomhands-jr · 7 months ago

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 10

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Underage drinking, partying, grinding, making out, mentions of roofies, vomiting, blackouts, minor violence.

Masterlist

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner! A/N: Sorry about this, guys. I promise I'll do right by these characters. ________

Noah wasn’t going to go to the party.

No really, he wasn’t going to go. Folio told him to stay home and not come out, and Noah understood that this was the cost of ghosting you. He had no right to keep tabs on you after that abandonment.

And it wasn’t really that he wanted to keep tabs on you. He had only gone to Jolly’s because he wanted to work on some music in his studio. It honestly wasn’t even to attend the party at all.

And the only reason he’d come inside was to grab a beer real quick before taking it back to the shed. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been accosted by Matt, who practically begged him to do shots. Plus, he’d scanned the room for any signs of you and Nick just to make sure he wouldn’t run into you. And it was really cold in his studio. So of course he came inside to warm up a bit. He was definitely gonna go back out to his studio.

Any minute now, he’d head back out.

He took another sip from his beer as he watched you grind on Nick across the house.

Hood pulled up, hair tucked underneath and sunglasses on so that he wouldn’t be easily recognized—at least if he was sitting down, he sat perched on the arm of the couch, arms crossed over his chest, nursing his beer as Matt told him about the girl he’d hooked up with earlier that week and he only half listened.

So you had really come out with Folio.

Didn’t take you very long to get over him, did it?

Noah caught himself in his bitterness and made an effort to let it go. This was his own damn fault, after all.

Call it morbid curiosity. Call it masochism. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t doing him any favors. He shouldn’t be watching this, and by doing so, he was only torturing himself, but it was like witnessing a car crash—he couldn’t look away.

Nick had his hands on your hips, pressing into the soft flesh of your ass. Noah could see your miniskirt riding up your thighs as you gyrated. He’d never seen you show that much skin. At least not in public. The only time he’d seen more was…

Well, he wasn’t going to think about that.

Noah dug his nails into the heel of his hand, gritting his teeth together. He breathed in through his nose. Then out through his mouth. In through his nose. Out through his mouth.

He was fine. He wasn’t going to be bothered by something like this. You deserved to have fun, and Folio was a great guy who would show you a good time without taking advantage of your inexperience. It was something Noah wanted for you. He’d even encouraged Nick to do this.

At least to a degree. He didn’t expect him to take it so far. It’s not like his friend had been crushing on you for a while. Or perhaps he had, but had backed off after Noah’s feelings became clear.

Still, Noah hadn’t expected him to really go all-in on the good time he was showing you, especially not after Noah had told him how he felt.

Maybe he was punishing Noah for ghosting you? But then, that wouldn’t make sense because he didn’t even know Noah was watching.

So maybe, he reasoned, thinking back to that self-help article he’d read on Psychology Today earlier that week, it didn’t have anything to do with him.

Maybe you and Nick were just two people enjoying themselves, connecting with one another.

And for some reason, that thought more than anything else, made his stomach clench unpleasantly.

He gripped the bottle tighter, bringing it up to his mouth to try to mask the acidic taste that had started to coat his tongue.

You spun around to face Nick, and from what he could see, Nick dragged a hand down over your sternum and your lips parted, eyes soft. You threw your head back, exposing your beautiful neck, and Noah watched as Nick dipped his head toward it, then seemed to think better of it and backed off.

It didn’t take much brain power to see Nick’s motives. Really, he couldn’t blame Nick—he, too, wanted to suck on the delicate skin below your jaw, to lick a languid stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe. If he could capture it in his teeth and tug, if he could taste the salt on your skin, if he could feel the heat of your body as you writhed over him to the music and watch your chest rise and fall with exertion. He wanted to hold you down and have you grind on his thigh until you were shaking with overstimulation and–

Oh fuck, were you kissing?!

You were.

Nick’s lips glided over yours in a searing kiss. Noah narrowed his eyes, honing in on what was happening. You opened your mouth to him without any hesitation and his tongue darted in to taste you. You smiled into the kiss, hands fisting in Nick’s shirt to pull him in close, while Nick cupped the back of your head. One of his hands traveled lower, grabbing at the round flesh of your ass.

Fire erupted inside Noah, burning and charring his insides as he watched the two of you in this profane display of lust. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move and thank God because if he could, he would have ripped you out of Nick’s clutches in a heartbeat.

A firm hand clapped him on the shoulder and Noah tore his eyes away from the offensive scene, looking up to find Ruffilo standing above him.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he shouted above the music.

His hand was steadying, enough that Noah was able to take a few deep breaths and calm down.

“I need to talk to you. Outside,” he said, voice serious. Noah adjusted his hood to make sure any defining features were covered before standing up and following Ruffilo around the outskirts of the crowd. He kept a slight bend in his knee so that he didn’t stand a full head taller than everyone around him.

Ruffilo led him to the back porch where Jolly and Bryan waited, arms crossed, and Noah briefly wondered if he was in trouble.

“Someone found a girl passed out in the bathroom,” said Jolly. “Her friend said she’d only had one drink.”

Noah blinked a few times, once again realizing that he wasn’t at the center of every conversation and that this was not about him.

Although hearing Jolly’s words, he would have rather it been about him.

This was bad. Very bad.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Noah said.

Jolly nodded.

Roofies were not a common problem for the kind of crowd they liked to keep at their parties. Most of the time, the drugs were contained to frat houses and bars, if they were present at all—but they had popped up once or twice, and each time, Jolly and the rest had taken the issue very seriously.

“What do you need?” asked Noah.

“I’m going to man the doors and vet everyone who leaves. If any girls look like they’re too drunk or incapacitated, they stay here until we find a way to get them home safely,” said Jolly.

“I’ll watch for any signs upstairs,” said Ruffilo. “I doubt it’s any of our regular guys. Probably someone who doesn’t come here often.”

“That narrows it down,” said Jolly. “Keep an eye out for any girls who seem out of it. Ask questions. See if they can tell you who they were talking to. Ask their friends, too, and keep a close eye on anyone who isn’t our regular crowd.”

Jolly wore a mean scowl as he spoke, his fists balled up tight. He took pride in creating a safe space for everyone to enjoy, and took it very personally when someone compromised the safety of that space. If Noah knew his friend as well as he thought he did, whoever was responsible for the incident would have to be carried out on a stretcher before the end of the night.

“I’ll watch the first floor,” Noah volunteered. That way, he could keep an eye on you as well and make sure you were safe.

“I’ll help,” offered Bryan.

“Okay,” said Jolly, nodding. “We still need someone to cover the basement.”

“I’ll tell Matt,” said Ruffilo.

Jolly took a second to look each man in the eye. “Everyone at this party is getting home safe, except for the guy responsible. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Noah, the same answer echoing around the back porch from the other men. And with that, each person went to their respective stake out locations.

Once inside, Noah began scanning the crowd for unfamiliar faces and women who seemed out of sorts.

There were a few new guys Noah didn’t recognize, and they all seemed to congregate in a group. These men definitely weren’t part of the normal crowd—he could tell by their button-downs they were probably more comfortable at a frat house. He marked them as potential suspects, but made sure not to focus only on them in case he missed something.

There were a few women that looked drunk, but not to the point where they were incoherent or falling over themselves, which led Noah to believe that the perpetrator hadn’t struck again yet.

He circled around the room, keeping close to the walls, eyes trained on the crowd.

“Hey.” Someone clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see an incredulous-looking Folio. “I thought you were staying home. What gives?”

Noah sniffed, wrinkling his face in disgust for what was probably a very valid question.. It definitely wasn’t fair of Noah, but then again, Folio had kissed you. “That’s not important. We’ve got trouble.”

Nick’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”

“Someone might be spiking drinks,” he said slowly, only half-focused because if Nick was here with him, then…

“Where is….,” he trailed off.

“She ran into some friends from her World History class,” said Nick. “They’re in the kitchen last I saw.”

Noah’s heart fell to his stomach, throat tightening uncomfortably.

“How could you leave her alone?!” he scolded, throwing Nick’s hand off his shoulder. “You were supposed to look after her!”

Rather than wait for an answer, Noah began frantically searching the party, trying to catch sight of you.

“She wanted to talk to her friend,” Nick defended, weaving his way through partygoers to catch up. “I didn’t know.”

But Noah was already halfway across the room after spotting you leaning next to the counter.

Noah knew he was being too hard on Nick. He’d apologize once he’d made sure you were okay and could calm down, but right now that wasn’t his priority.

He almost caught up to you. But then he spotted the group you were talking with. Two men he didn’t recognize. He thought better of it and decided to hang back and observe.

You were laughing with the other men. It looked like there was another girl with you as well. Noah wrinkled his nose again. Something about the men had him raising his hackles.

“Noah,” Nick called, having caught up to him. “I’m sorry, man. I really didn’t—,”

“—We’ll talk about it later,” Noah cut him off. “Do you see those guys?” he said, nodding over to where you were chatting with the group. “There’s something off.”

And indeed there was something off. Nick agreed. One of them—a younger guy in a blue baseball cap and a pink collared shirt shifted nervously. It could be because he was talking to a beautiful woman, but Noah continued to eye him suspiciously. .

Noah and Nick took turns. One watched the four of you chatting, while the other scoured the room for any other potential suspects.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to figure out why the men had Noah on-edge.

“There!” Nick pointed. Noah turned just in time to see the man’s hand hover over the drink in your friend’s hand.

For a brief moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The girl brought her drunk up to her lips, and in less than five strides, Noah’s legs had carried him over, hand coming up to take the drink from her on its own accord.

“Noah!” you said in surprise, but Noah didn’t acknowledge you.

“You don’t mind if I have a sip of this, do you?” he said.

The man in question squared his jaw, puffing his chest out, but Noah could smell coward all over him.

“What the fuck, man?!” the stranger said, “That’s her drink.”

“Is it?” said Noah, bringing the drink up to hover near his lips.

Noah’s stare bored a hole into the perpetrator’s face. The guy was plain-looking, the kind you’d find six replicas of at any boat party. He had barely any distinguishing features, save for a soft jaw and a bulbous nose exaggerated by the sneer on his face. He looked rather punchable, in Noah’s opinion.

“You don’t think this drink is compromised, do you?” Noah continued.

The fucker at least had the intelligence to stay silent. That was the only thing going for him.

By that point, the small group of people nearby had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the altercation.

“Dean, what’s going on?” the girl asked. “What is this guy talking about?”

“Yeah Dean, what’s going on?” Noah parroted, not taking his eyes off the despicable face in front of him.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Go on, tell her,” he goaded. His voice held all the vitriol he felt, words coming out laced with poison. He hoped each of them stung.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dean. It was a pathetic defense, and one Noah was already prepared to counter.

Noah pouted, face painted with false sympathy. “Are you saying you didn’t slip something into her drink just now?”

“What?!” said Dean, and he had the nerve to look offended. He didn’t have the acting chops to pull it off though, and there was still an underlying panic in his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I’d never do something like that.”

“So drink it,” said Noah, shoving the cup right into the man’s sternum. It splashed over the rim, soaking the pink shirt in the sticky, blue liquid. Dean brought his hand up to catch the cup as Noah let go, scowling.

“I’m not drinking someone else’s drink,” he said.

“Why not?” asked Noah.

“Because I’m not an asshole. I don’t steal other people’s drinks,” he said, growing more heated in his defense.

It was the wrong thing to say to Noah.

“Drink it,” Noah seethed, “or I’ll take it and force—,”

“—Noah?” your soft voice cut through his anger and for a moment, everything stopped.

He watched it happen in slow motion. You stumbled, nearly falling over onto the kitchen floor and Nick rushed to catch you. He managed to keep your head from hitting, but you sank hard to your knees.

Noah looked from you to the man in front of him. All the noise from the party got out of the room as if in a vacuum, replaced with a high-pitched ringing. Red washed over his vision.

A moment later, his fist connected with flesh.

Then the sound came rushing back. Shouting erupted from all around him. From inside him.

“You. Mother. Fucker,” he spat, punctuating each word with another blow to the man’s chin. He didn’t remember how they got into that position, but they were on the floor now, Noah straddling his chest with one fist clutching the collar of Dean's shirt, his other cracking repeatedly against his jawbone. Dean’s head snapped back with each blow, ricocheting off the floor with sickening thuds.

Within seconds, people were on Noah, pulling him off. Noah fought hard, blinded by rage and the all-consuming need to see this man pay for his crimes.

“Noah!” someone shouted, but he couldn’t tell who. “Noah, stop.”

Hands gripped his arms, slowing him, but he still managed to get another two blows in before he was lifted off, but not before he dealt a hard knee to the guy’s groin.

He fought against the arms of his captors, desperately trying to break free so he could have another go, but by that point, it was three against one and he was out of steam.

“Relax, man. Relax. You got him. He’s down,” someone was saying. He finally recognized one of the voices as Jolly’s. He twisted around to see the faces of Ruffilo and Bryan holding him by the arms and waist to restrict his movements.

“Let me go,” he commanded, still breathing heavily. The adrenaline coursed through his veins but had ebbed enough that he could feel the first throbs of pain in his hand.

He looked over to the man, seeing nothing but a bloody pulp for a face. Either he had been knocked out or he was in shock because he wasn’t moving.

“Noah, listen to me,” Jolly said, moving in front of him to block his vision. “You have to leave. We’re calling the cops. You can’t be here when they arrive.”

Noah struggled once more against Ruffilo and Bryan, but it was useless.

“You have a record,” Jolly continued. “You and Folio have to go. They can’t know you were involved.”

Still breathing hard, he looked around. For what? He didn’t know.

“Take Folio and get out of here. Go home. If anyone asks, you were asleep. We’ll vouch for you.”

It took a few minutes for the reality of the situation to sink in. Noah already had a record. If he was caught at the scene, he could be charged with aggravated assault and end up doing time. His word against some frat guy, probably with a rich father who could afford a lawyer.

Noah nodded. “I’m good. You can let me go.”

Jolly stared hard into Noah’s eyes, undoubtedly looking for any sign of incoherence before nodding at Ruffilo and Bryan, who released him.

He glanced over to Nick, who propped you up with his arms underneath yours. The two locked eyes for a moment, and then Noah sighed, slinging an arm around your waist.

“Let’s get her home.”

Together, they carried you out of the door and down the front steps. Inside, they could hear a commotion building. Jolly was surely informing guests that the police were being called, and that anyone underage needed to leave. They were probably also checking to make sure nobody else was in danger.

“Do you know where her dorm is?” Noah asked Nick, struggling to keep you upright. Every few moments, you would come to. You’d mutter something incoherent, or pause to vomit along the sidewalk, and then go back into a catatonic state.

“Rose Hall,” said Nick, and Noah tried not to let himself be bothered that Folio knew that detail before he did.

“Where are her keys?” he asked, stopping to see if you had them clipped to you anywhere. None of your clothes had pockets to search.

“I think she had a purse with her. She probably left it back at Jolly’s,” answered Nick.

“Shit,” said Noah, chewing on his lip. “Does she have a roommate we could call?”

“I think so, but she said her roommate went home for Christmas break already,” Nick answered, looking more and more guilty the farther they got from Jolly’s. Noah wondered if he was feeling guilty for letting you out of his sight.

“Noah, I’m really sorry,” he said, confirming Noah’s suspicions. “I never meant to put her in danger. I just didn’t want to hover all night in case she wanted some independence. I never even considered someone would be drugging people.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” said Noah, shifting your weight on him so that your arm was over his shoulder and he could grip you by the waist. His voice came out colder than he wanted. “Tell her.”

“I will,” said Nick. “As soon as she’s awake tomorrow, I’ll tell her.”

The difference in height between Nick, Noah, and you made it all the more difficult to carry you, and the two of them struggled to get you down the street.

“Let’s take her to our place,” said Noah. “She can have my bed.”

Nick look like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it when you raised your head and vomited down the front of your shirt. Your feet dragged on the ground behind you as Nick and Noah trudged the few blocks it took to get back to their place. Noah prayed nobody would see them and think they were up to no good.

Once they’d successfully gotten you inside, they took you to the bathroom to clean you up. Noah tenderly wiped your face and neck with a wet washcloth, careful not to rub too hard with the rough surface.

Nick propped you up on his lap while Noah tilted your head backwards over the edge of the tub so he could run cups full of water over your hair and rinse out some of the vomit that had caught in the strands.

You woke up again midway through, and they had just enough time to turn you back over so you could vomit once more into the bathtub. After a while, it was just dry heaving, and Noah surmised that the contents of your stomach had finally been emptied and you had nothing left to vomit up.

“We gotta get her changed,” said Nick.

Noah was aware. He’d been putting it off because he knew he’d have to remove your clothes, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be violated any more than you’d already been.

“I’ll do it,” Noah volunteered.

“Why you?” asked Nick. Apparently something about the idea triggered his discomfort.

“Because I’ve…,” he began, “…seen her. Already.”

Nick’s eyes went wide. “You,” he began, but then restarted. “She let you…and then you ghosted?”

Noah exhaled heavily through his nostrils. If Nick wanted to have this talk, he wasn’t going to shy away from it.

“Say what you have to say.”

Nick’s jaw muscle twitched. “You treated her like shit,” he said. “You used her. I don’t like the idea of you seeing her like that.”

Noah nodded. “I know. But if it comes between someone who’s already seen everything and someone who hasn’t, I feel like this is less of a violation.”

“I don’t like it,” said Nick, shaking his head.

Noah threw his hands out to his sides in frustration. “I don’t like it either, Nick. I don’t like any of this, but the girl needs to be taken care of, okay? She’s been through a lot. Both of us broke her trust,” Nick winced at that, “and the best we can do now is get her in bed, safely, without doing any more damage. I doubt she’d want someone else seeing her body, so this is the best solution I have.”

Nick let out a forceful, frustrated sigh, crossing his arms and working his jaw. “Don’t look any more than you have to.”

Noah scoffed. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

Nick shrugged, but didn’t say anything, so Noah carried you off to his room and sat you down on the floor.

He found the biggest, softest t-shirt of his that he could find and brought it over, crouching down at your side.

Gently, he lifted the hem of your shirt, catching sight of the band logo. He’d laugh if the situation weren’t so heavy. There was no way this was your shirt. He knew for a fact you’d never listen to a band like Norma Jean.

Noah tried to avert his eyes as much as possible while he slipped the soiled shirt off your body and replaced it with the fresh one. He did catch a glance though, and was immediately brought back to that night the other week during the video chat, when you’d trusted him with your body, right before he broke that trust. He’d give anything to have had this second glimpse be under better circumstances.

Next, he removed your skirt, which had also gotten vomit on it, and was grateful to find that you were wearing shorts underneath so he didn’t have to worry about covering you up.

Then he got to work unlacing your boots and sliding them off your feet, and for a second, he was reminded of an old parable he’d heard before leaving the church. He couldn’t remember the details of the story, but it was something about a woman washing Jesus’s feet with her hair? Something like that. And then Jesus returned the favor by washing her feet. And it was a weird story, but the takeaway, or at least what he took away from it, was that there was a sort of holiness in humble servitude.

He felt that now, as he picked your limp body up and tucked you neatly into his bed. He only wished there was more he could do. ________

Nick knocked softly at his door, padding in before waiting for an answer. Noah was seated on the floor, slumped against the side of the bed. He must have dozed off.

“Thought you could use this,” Nick said, placing an empty bucket beside the bed. “And this.” He set a tall glass of water and a bottle of acetaminophen on the nightstand before sitting on the floor opposite Noah.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Nick finally broke it.

“So,” he began. “You came to the party after all.”

Noah knew this was coming. He didn’t have the skills to articulate a good answer though, so he just nodded.

“After I specifically asked you to stay home.”

Noah nodded again.

“And you had agreed to stay home.”

Noah nodded a third time.

“Why?” he asked.

Noah chewed on his lip, looking over to regard the softness of your sleeping form. You looked peaceful, despite the ordeal you’d just been through.

“You know why,” he said, lowly. It wasn’t meant to sound aggressive. Just honest.

Nick sighed, fixing Noah with a hard stare. He kept his voice low so as to not wake you. Not that you were in any danger of remembering anything that happened.

“Did you see us?” Nick asked. His expression was guarded. Noah couldn’t get a read on him.

“Yes,” he said, keeping his tone steady. He was angry, and he knew that, but he didn’t want it to come across to Nick.

“And?” he said.

“And what?” said Noah, failing to keep his tone level. “You’re both single. You may as well hook up.”

“We didn’t hook up,” said Nick. “I was never going to sleep with her. I just wanted to show her a good time.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“Noah, this was your idea. You told me to spend time with her. Said I’d be a good influence,” Nick said, exasperation for his friend creeping into his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Noah sighed, leaning back and knocking his head gently against his nightstand. He stared up at the ceiling, as if it held the answers he was looking for. “You didn’t have to kiss her.”

Noah could practically hear the eye-roll from Nick.

“If I didn’t, someone else would have,” he argued. “There’s no way to keep her sheltered while you figure out what it is you want. And even if there was, what would that make you? Just another man trying to control her.”

Noah scoffed, hating what Nick was insinuating, but not having a solid argument against it.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to kiss her.”

Nick scrubbed a palm over his face in frustration. “Look Noah,” he began. “I respected you when you started getting close to her. I kept my distance. I even stayed out of your way during community service so you could get to know her. But then you bailed, and she needed someone to lean on. She’s going through a lot with this church shit.”

Noah’s stomach turned, guilt seeping into his bloodstream. He tried not to focus on it, chewing on the inside of his cheek while Nick continued.

“This girl has been sheltered her entire life. She’s only just now starting to explore. I’ve seen girls like her get in over their heads way too quickly because they’ve been repressed for so long, and asshole swoops in to take advantage of it. Then they get their first taste of freedom and lose themselves like that,” Nick said, snapping his fingers for effect.

“You’ve been that guy, though,” said Noah. “We both have.”

Nick paused, deflating for a moment as he reflected. He closed his eyes. “I know. I’m not proud of it.” He looked back at Noah. “But I’m trying to do better. That kiss was not about me trying to exploit a weakness.”

“Then what was it?” spat Noah, knowing Nick’s words made sense but still not wanting to believe them. He wanted to be angry with Nick. It was so much easier than the alternative, which was to consider the role he played in his own suffering.

“She’s exploring her sexuality. I wanted to be a safe person for her to do that with.”

“Jesus,” whined Noah, slumping back against the nightstand. “Do you have to come after me like that?”

They both knew what Noah meant: you’d already tried exploring your sexuality with Noah, and they both saw how well he’d handled that.

Noah refocused on the guilt that had been coursing through him, allowing it to slowly settle into a quiet humility. He really had been the asshole in the scenario without even meaning to be. Not just to you, but to Nick as well.

“I feel like I owe you an apology,” he admitted. “I didn’t trust that you were taking care of her.”

Nick raised a gentle palm. “No need. I didn’t give you many reasons to trust.”

“Still,” Noah said. “I’m gonna try to keep my cool more.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth lifted into a polite, yet disbelieving smirk. “If you say so,” he said., then refocused his attention on Noah’s face.

“What do you want moving forward?” he asked.

Noah shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?” implored Nick.

Noah looked back at his friend, his last remaining defenses crumbling under Nick’s steady gaze. “I don’t know what I want. From you. From her. From myself,” he said. “And you’re right. I asked you to show her a good time. I shouldn’t get mad at you for doing exactly that. I’m just…,” he trailed off.

“Confused?” Nick offered.

“Confused,” he affirmed, hanging his head and staring at his shoes.

“It’s okay to have feelings for her,” Nick said hesitantly, as if he were trying to coax a feral cat from its hiding space without spooking it.

Noah looked back up to find Nick eyeing him with sympathy, and his gut seized uncomfortably because it felt gross, like a slime coating his skin. He tried to breathe through the feeling instead of running from it, thinking back to a quote he read in one of the many self-help articles he’d been scouring over the past week.

Let the light in. That’s how the light gets in.

Noah was not good at letting the light in. He much preferred to keep himself in the dark. Every time someone offered to meet a need of his or show him love in a way that he didn’t anticipate or wasn’t prepared for, he rejected it. Either brushed it off with humor or outright ignored it.

He walked through life with a chip on his shoulder, feeling sorry for himself because he’s never known love. Truth is, he could have known love. He’s had many opportunities to know love, but he constantly rejected it whenever it was offered, because anger and bitterness felt safer. More familiar.

He thought back to the times in his life where he’d wanted love. He pictured his nine-year-old self, crying alone in his room and wanting nothing more than to be comforted by parents who instead yelled at him for his emotional outbursts.

What would have happened if that nine-year-old had just been hugged? Would the trajectory of his life have changed? Would he be more capable of holding a relationship? More receptive to love?

He nearly choked. That was a can of worms he wasn’t sure he wanted to go near. Opening himself to love would mean opening himself up to processing that pain, and that scared him.

He exhaled a deep breath, running his fingers over the fibers of the shaggy white carpet that covered the floor of his bedroom.

Running from it, however, was holding him back. He knew it. His friends had noticed, and had long grown tired of that behavior pattern. He’d had opportunities to heal before and had refused, choosing instead to stay closed off, and he could tell his support system was running low on patience.

If he was ever going to grow into the man he wanted to be—the man you deserved, it started with choosing to let the light in, regardless of how uncomfortable it was.

Nick’s sympathy turned Noah’s stomach sour. His over-inflated ego observed it as pity he neither needed, nor cared to indulge. His knee-jerk reaction was to object and disregard it, too proud to have needs. But as much discomfort as it caused, he begrudgingly allowed himself to receive what his friend was trying to offer.

The light wouldn’t get in on its own. He had to choose to let it in, and that required effort.

“I do have feelings for her,” he acknowledged. “I don’t know why that’s so hard for me to admit. And I don’t know why I’ve been acting this way.”

Nick sighed, visibly relaxing now that Noah had accepted his offering, and Noah sighed as well. The icky, slimy feeling he’d registered at the first sign of Nick’s sympathy slowly started to melt into something warmer and more comforting. His nervous system finally started to pull back from the edge it had been operating on for who knows how long.

“That’s okay,” Nick said, cracking a grin. “Feelings are hard to navigate. They cause people to act like idiots sometimes.”

“No kidding,” Noah agreed, mirroring Nick’s smile.

It felt good and humbling to finally admit. Noah could use a bit of humbling. Over the years, his biggest defense mechanism had become his pride. It had grown out of control, looking down on people who asked to get their needs met—dismissing them as weak and pitiful for not being able to make it on their own the way Noah had.

He shook his head, chuckling bitterly to himself.

“What are you laughing at?” whispered Nick. The hour had grown late and Noah was tired, but he was enjoying Nick’s company.

“I’ve been such an idiot,” he said, looking back up at Nick. “How have you been able to live with me all this time?”

Nick shrugged, grinning at his friend. “It’s not easy. But you’re not all bad. You just need some sense knocked into ya’.”

“You guys are way more patient than I’ve given you credit for,” he said, feeling gratitude for his friends.

Nick snorted, quickly covering his mouth and nose to not wake you up. “I could get used to this Noah,” he said. “It’s a nice change.”

“Don’t get too excited,” said Noah. “I’m still an asshole at heart.”

Nick chuckled, standing to wipe off his pants and grabbing the pile of your vomit-ridden clothes. “It stinks in here. I’m gonna throw these in the wash and then head to bed. You got this?” he asked.

Noah nodded. “I can take it from here.”

Nick fixed him with one last serious look. “Be good to her. She’s one of the better ones, and for some fuckin’ reason, she seems to like you.”

Noah laughed softly. “Turn the light off when you leave.”

Nick did, and Noah sat in the dark, mulling over the events that had taken place that night. He’d have to have a very difficult conversation with you when you woke up, and he was not looking forward to that.

What he was looking forward to, however, was an opportunity to repair some of the damage he’d done.

Hopefully you’d let him. ___________ All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate. A/N: I'm so sorry! I will give MC the ending she deserves, don't worry! She'll have her day in the sun. She's just gotta get through some stuff first.

Next chapter is almost finished. Will be up soon.

@collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @hoe-for-daddywise @concretejungle420 @sleep-worship @cncohshit @adenobabe @guacinyourarea @escapingourexistence @livingdeceasedgirl @chxrryxox @dem11 @starcrossedwasteland @alm0std3add @reyadawn @karenfranco @glam-cherry-bomb @simpingforniragi @koalakoala8 @themorticians-world @sleepytoken99 @magdalenaxbrenaxorestes. @fuck-me-muke @xmads-omensx @just-randomm-stuff @spookychaosstranger @gravitysembrace @somebodyels3 @klutzy-kay24 @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls @rain-down-on-me @ilovemewwwww75 @poisongirl616 @adenobabe @silentglassbreak @kat-rhi-lac Sorry if I missed anyone.

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silent-sanctum · 9 months ago

Note

I hope you're doing fine mijin🤩💗....

Can I request a fic where the stone ocean group survives and jotaro meets his wife(the reader) or ex wife that's upto you

Aha! A 2-for-1 special! Also, hiya @jotarosimpforever and to you too anon 👋 I'm doing fine thank you! Sorry it took this long to answer your requests, I'm currently on vacation so I was busy doing stuff 🫡 But here it is! A post-Stone Ocean fic featuring domestic times with our favorite DILF 6taro 😘 Hope you enjoy ♡

Way Home - Part 6! Jotaro x Reader

word count: 3.3k

“Breaking news: The recent events people termed as the “Shifting Skies Phenomenon” comes to an abrupt halt, resulting in mass casualty midst the confusion of countless civilians worldwide”

The scene was in complete chaos just the way it was for the past few hours. Where it was due to destruction as the heavens changed hues, from burning autumn to midnight void and back in a blink of the eye, now everything and everyone were in complete loss of control, emergency respondents dispatched to numerous vehicular accidents and spontaneous locations with crowds sporting spontaneous injuries.

Where others wouldn’t know what else to brand this phenomenon but “otherworldly”, you knew it as a catastrophic Stand attack.

And you’d come to know these information because of none other than your own husband- A solitary individual who opted to keep his responsibilities a secret from the people he loved, to sacrifice his happiness and suffer a life of “kill-or-be-killed” if it meant giving his family the normal life he could never have.

If it weren’t for circumstances that got yourself involved in one of these Stand encounters, you wouldn’t find yourself falling into the rabbit hole that was learning the nature of Stands, and eventually taking up a managerial role in an exclusive private organization as one of their agents. If it weren’t for that eventful day, you wouldn’t be able to meet Jotaro.

That stoic, abrasive, yet loving man…

Images of him smiling at you with fondness glazing his sharp blue eyes flashed in your mind as you imagined the same man charging head first into the battlefield to save and protect his and your only daughter from this grand scale threat.

And with the sky and the Earth’s gravity returning back to its usual state, you should be relieved knowing the enemy was defeated.

But without being there to witness how it ended, you gave into overthinking, imagining the repercussions that were dealt to achieve the cost of such victory.

As if snapping back to reality, you found yourself running through a plethora of bustling Speedwagon Foundation employees, almost crazed and frantic. The organization was just as rushed and busy as the rest of the world was with one half of the Foundation attempting to get shit under control by getting in-contact with non-government networks for aid and support, and the other half accommodating injured civilians to help reduce the local hospitals from overcrowding.

And just as what’s written in paper, you’ve received information that a chopper had just arrived with 2 members of the Joestar family onboard, injured from a fatal fight. You wasted not even a split second to bolt from the safety of your room and here in the private foundation’s building.

You rounded a corner, pushing past a couple more of people until you were met with a signage that read “Medical Wing”. You’ve studied the place’s layout enough times since Jotaro first brought you here during your orientation. While the place crowded with panicked and wounded civilians, you knew that the Foundation had exclusive areas and services reserved for the convenience of the Joestar bloodline.

Frustrated, you were desperate enough to seek the first nurse you could see and ask where her family was, but you’d find out that wouldn’t happen. Your hurried steps led you to the emergency room and instead of a random nurse, your attention landed on a teenage girl with messy space buns and torn clothing sitting on one of the benches lining the hallway leading to the operating room.

With one arm in a cast and her waist bandaged, the young girl had her free hand curled into a fist, head bowed as she struggled to hold back her sobs.

At the sight of her, your eyes welled up with tears. “Jolyne…”

In an instant, she jerked her head upright at the sound of her name. It took her a couple of seconds before she saw you standing a few feet away from her. Like mother and daughter, Jolyne’s face crumpled into one of sadness, the tears that she held back now rolling down her cheeks. “Eomma-”

You crossed whatever distance was between you and your child and brought her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m really sorry mom.”

With ease, you withdrew enough for you to do another quick scan over her body. “Are you hurt bad?” You grasped her shoulders with a hand, the other reaching up to cup her wet cheeks. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Your questions only sent Jolyne into another sob, breaking into tears the second you showed your extreme concerns. “I-I’m fine, but appa-”

You paused. “What… What happened to him?”

“He protected me, my friends, b-but…” She furiously swiped at her eyes despite her sobs. “He’s injured the most. He was bleeding everywhere and now-”

You kept yourself as calm as possible, even if you were on the brink of collapsing yourself. “Where is he?” Jolyne pointed to the double doors leading to the operating room.

Your heart caved in at the thought of your husband laying unconscious being worked on by surgeons and nurses to preserve his life. With a heavy and shaky sigh, you nodded as you willed yourself to not cry in front of your daughter.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,” Jolyne cried. “I’m sorry for letting that stupid accident with that asshole happen that led to dad going through all this bullshit for me-”

You quieted her as you pulled her into another hug, softly caressing her head. “It’s not your fault, pearl,” you said with a whisper. She continued to sob as she buried her face on your shoulder. “Your father knows that too.”

Gently, you led your daughter to one of the benches and sat her down with you beside her. Considering you’d thought the worst before arriving at the Foundation, you looked at the closed double doors with a newfound sense of reassurance. Another sigh.

“Let’s just wait and hope for the best.”

---

The consistent beeping of his vitals echoed throughout the dimmed room and you were left alone with Jotaro, still unconscious with half of his face heavily bandaged together with his throat, an oxygen mask fit on his nose and mouth.

Jolyne visited minutes earlier and told you that she’d be checking with how her other friends were doing.

An hour ago, you and Jolyne stood up immediately as soon as the surgeon stepped through the swinging doors. To everyone’s relief, they managed to stabilize him from his critical state.

According to him, your husband had a pre-existing heart condition that caused his pulse rate to beat at irregular, rapid intervals. Combined with the knowledge of him having to exert excessive strength despite waking up from a comatose state and the heavy amount of stress piling up the past few months, his body had chosen to shut down the second his adrenaline depleted.

Thinking about that again made you scoff through your tears. “You were always an impulsive idiot…” Saying those words caused your eyes to swell again and sniffle.

But what’s done was done. The doctors did what they could and all you can do was to sit beside him, holding his hand with both of yours, praying that he’d recover faster, enough for him to wake up and calm your worrying heart.

Without realizing, you ended up falling asleep still sat on your chair by his bed. You didn’t know how long time has passed in your slumber and you couldn’t be bothered to find out. All that mattered right now was staying by your husband’s side, letting him know, in spirit perhaps, that he wasn’t alone and that you were with him now.

In a way you couldn’t perceive, you somehow felt like he was comforting you as well. A comforting chill would brush against your cheeks, hair, shoulders, or hands and you welcomed the sensation like an old friend.

Eventually, time would pass from mere hours to days and throughout it all, you continued to stay where you were- always making sure to watch over him with persisting hope.

Today marked the 15th day since his admission in the Foundation’s infirmary ward. His fresh bandages still wrapped around the half of his face and throat. His assistive oxygenation was removed the week prior once his vitals stabilized within normal range.

By now, you stayed so much in the medical room that your responsibilities started to catch up as evident with the numerous phone calls and text messages alerting you from your pocket. You figured you’d answer a few and explain the circumstances surrounding you and your family.

That time, you stood by the window hoping to receive better signal. You were in the middle of arguing with a non-compliant employee that worked under your supervision, and through their whining in the speaker, you picked up the sheets shifting behind you.

On that cue, you turned around with supposed foolish hope but in clear daylight, there he was- stirring into consciousness, brows furrowing and scrunching as his eye slowly opened.

You never hung up on someone this fast before but you dropped whatever conversation you had and rushed over to Jotaro’s side, immediately reaching to grasp his hand. It took him a bit to adjust to the natural light, but he lolled his head to you and locked eye contact with you.

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Jotaro-ssi?” With a weak baritone voice, he croaked back your name with instant familiarity. Your eyes welled with new tears. Right then and there, he grunted as he struggled to prop himself upright. “W-What are you doing? You just woke up. You’re supposed to rest!”

At this point, you didn’t realize you started crying when you light-heartedly scolded him. You gripped his hand tight with frustration and relief, teardrops spilling onto your skin. He’s awake. Thank god he’s awake. “Do you know how much of an idiot you are?! I told you you shouldn’t jump into dangerous situations so recklessly! And now look at you! You should be taking your time and recover lying down and here you are forcing yourself to sit! You really are an idiot-”

“I missed you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and whatever ramble you had left trailed off into the thin air. Jotaro sat there patiently, watching you wistfully with hooded eyes. In your hand, he turned his palm upwards and interlocked his fingers with yours. He had that usual air of stoicism in his expression, but there was no mistaking the wet sheen glossing over his aquamarine eyes.

That was all it took for you to break into a sob as you gently wrapped your arms around him in a soft embrace. You felt him tuck his face against the crook of your neck, his tears pooling on your skin in silence. “Next time, tell me at least. Alright?”

“Mm…”

“Don’t scare me like that again, you hear?”

“I’m sorry…”

“You ass.”

---

It’s been 6 months since then and after the chaos had settled across the nation, the Kujos returned to their seaside villa, settling in for the time being to adjust to the new life after the time phenomenon.

Slowly but surely, every member of the family began to live their lives the way they wanted to- Jolyne would often leave the house to hang out with her best friend Ermes and potential boyfriend Anasui, one day bringing home a kid in baseball uniform named Emporio waiting to be adopted into the family, you returned to work to help the other agents in the Foundation, and Jotaro begun to resume teaching in university, choosing to take a break from field research to give him time to rest.

And considering the stress of the whole Stand ordeal they had dealt with since they were 17, you could get used to a mundane life like this.

The early morning sun beamed a warm orange, filtered through the curtains before it could touch both you and your husband. You opened your eyes to find yourself side-lying on his arm to face a still-sleeping Jotaro, tucked bare-chested underneath the sheets with his face mushed against the pillows

You huffed and snuggled closer, nuzzling to bury your nose on the crook of his neck. With a feather-light touch, you raised an index finger to gingerly trace the faded scar across his throat, the shallow dents across his collarbone, the scar on his left shoulder, and the one on his abdomen. One-by-one, you took the time to feel the skin of each in contrast to the rest. “You’ve been through so much…”

He stirred possibly from your tiny motions and soon enough, the arm you lied on curled in to pull you into his hold.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you looked up to see your husband glance at you with sleep-ridden eyes. You propped yourself on his chest and with your chin planted on your overlapped hands flat on his pecs, you whispered out a simple, intentionally-cute “Good morning~”

Jotaro smiled back. “Morning.”

“Break day?”

He nodded.

Life never felt so ordinary after what had happened but you could get used to this. Where every moment in this new era, they could live out the rest of their lives as a normal couple with a normal family.

And what’s a better way to start their new lives but with the domesticity of a newlywed pair.

Both you and Jotaro started the day accomplishing your morning routines- you in the bathroom washing up, he on the balcony to simply soak in the early morning sun. You made your way to the dining area where he stood by waiting for you with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. You took one, returned the favor with a chaste peck on his cheek, and went over to cook breakfast for the family.

On cue with the smell of bacon and eggs permeating throughout the house, two pairs of footsteps bounded down the stairs and barged into the area.

“Well good morning to you too Jolyne,” you glanced at her companion with a smile. “Emporio.”

“Going out again?” Jotaro said, glancing at the duo. “This early?”

“Ermes is gonna go shopping for the new line of clothes that got released yesterday. She invited me and Emporio over saying it’s going to be ‘her treat’, but I know she’s lying,” Jolyne said, picking up a toast from her plate and another to offer her adopted brother.

“Is that pink-haired guy going?”

“His name’s Anasui dad and no, he’s not going,” she puffed her chest. “It’s girl’s day out today.” You and Jotaro looked at the blond boy beside her. “He’s not tagging along. I’m just dropping off Emporio at the nearby bookstore on the way out.”

“And I can find my way back no problem,” Emporio said as the teenager slowly pulled him with her to the door. “I won’t take too long.”

Jotaro still had his doubts from where he was on his seat, but knowing your little girl was able to survive a life of imprisonment and was able to get around the harsh facility, you smiled at her. “Alright. Be back by 9!”

“I will!”

Once the duo were out of sight, you and Jotaro were left alone to themselves. “Nothing like seeing your kids all grown up, huh?” You said as you took a bite of your eggs. He hummed a sound of acknowledgment. “But that just means we have the day to ourselves.”

At that, your husband couldn’t help but smile.

And just as you said, the rest of today consisted of simply staying indoors and “hanging-out” with each other in a life of old-couple domesticity. You cooked the meals and he washed the dishes. You did the laundry and he helped in folding them. You dusted the shelves and he vacuumed the floors. You picked today’s playlist to listen while doing chores and he chose what movie to watch.

Then there were instances in-between chores where either of you can’t help but hover close to one another, seeking each other’s touch and affections. May it be when you’re cooking and Jotaro passes by stealing a piece of sliced vegetable, you sneaking behind to pat his ass when he’s drying the plates, him momentarily resting his chin on your head as you wait for the washing machine to finish, him offering you a glass of water in the middle of dusting, or ending up in a never-ending banter over genres of media.

By the time they finished everything, including the short time freshening up, the afternoon began its transition to night as the skies changed its hue from blue to orange.

You shared one look with your husband and with one wistful stare, he rose a hand to you and you held it. With no worries plaguing your mind, you and Jotaro slowly walked down the stairs to the coast, hand-in-hand. A gentle breeze blew a strand of hair across your face and before you could, he tucked it behind your ear.

Both of you walked across the sand until you stopped a few meters away from the gentle waves.

Jotaro took the initiative to break apart from you, only to step behind and engulf your body with his long coat with his hands still in its pockets. You smiled and leaned back against his chest, closing your eyes as you do so.

For a few minutes, the couple simply stood by, basking in the ambiance- the refreshing sea breeze against your skin, the soothing crash of waves, the birds chirping above. The sea was your comfort place after all, and it was his too. Despite it being months later, you cherished every calm walk such as this as if it was the last.

You’ve never felt at peace this much. It was so nice.

“23 years…” You glanced up at Jotaro when he spoke. “For 23 years of us knowing each other, finally… Finally we can just live like this.”

You chuckled. “Makes it seem like we’ve just been married and this is our honeymoon even though it’s been years.”

“We’ve been fighting the world for most of our lives. Is it strange that until now, I’m still not used to this kind of ‘quiet’? As if I’m cautious that someone could appear at any moment?”

You shook your head, your gaze drifting to the horizon as you thought of your next words. “It’s not. It’ll take some time for us to adjust to this new normal. For all our habitual anxiety to disappear. Hell, it might not go away entirely.”

“But I can assure you this-”

You stepped out of his coat and turned to face him. From this angle, you looked at Jotaro with a smile bearing all the gooey fondness you had in your heart. Gingerly, you rose a hand to his face and with tender care, traced the vertical scar lining the right side of his face. From the top of his brow, down to his blind eye, until your fingers stopped at the bold line of his jaw.

Only then, your hand returned to cup his cheek with your thumb stroking the smooth line of his scar. “Whatever may happens next, I’ll be there with you. Work, people, lingering Stand users… I’ll stay by your side, hm?”

With hooded eyes, Jotaro leaned against your palm and laid his hand over yours. “I can’t say much to change your mind anyways.” He huffed. “You were always so stubborn.”

You chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

Getting on to your tiptoes, you planted a soft kiss over his cheek, nose, and his lips last, to which you lingered on for a second longer. Pulling away, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face on his chest.

“Our lives are finally ours, starlight.”

You closed your eyes as you felt him tuck his chin on top of you, an arm wrapping around your waist, and a hand caressing the back of your head.

“Then let’s live them together, sunshine.”

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro kujo #god i love writing domestic couple life like yes #give me that wholesome stuff me

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ahrahrahraha · 1 year ago

Text

Series

Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes by @thenhewaswrongaboutme

3B by @softlyspector

"Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye".

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Sugar by @softlyspector

"By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war. Told through a series of non-chronological one-shots."

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

The Florist, The Beekeeper & The Pumpkin Carver by @softlyspector

Home & Better by @softlyspector

For The Love Of The Game by @pellucid-constellations (college/baseball AU)

"Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it."

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations (lumberjack!bucky)

"Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either."

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

A Correspondence Of Obligation by @pellucid-constellations (prince!bucky)

"Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls".

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)

A Million Reasons by @pellucid-constellations

"Bucky Barnes, with all of his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that's technically part of the community, have to put up with him. Every day. And he won't stop killing your plants."

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Never Let You Go by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences."

A Love That Never Leaves by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us."

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Safe With Me by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected."

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Three Shades of A Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff

"It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he wore in front of the world"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Guiding Light by @wkemeup

The Witness by @wkemeup (detective!bucky)

By Any Other Name by @wkemeup (FBI!bucky)

Sunrise by @wkemeup (armyvet!bucky)

Delicate Edges by @wkemeup (biker!bucky)

Sky Full Of Song by @wkemeup (pirate!bucky)

Pride & Privacy by @adrinktostopyourthirst

Feelings Are Fatal by @sunmoonandeddie

Appointments by @noctumbra

Codename: Lazarus by @sagechanoafterdark

I'll Take Care Of It by @tellmealovestory

Something More by @tellmealovestory (modern au)

It's a Deal by @justreadingfics

Looking For A Heartbeat by @justreadingfics

Bad Match by @justreadingfics

Lumby & Bunny by @sweetdreamsbuck (lumberjack!bucky)

Florist Bucky by @navybrat817

Biker Bucky by @angrythingstarlight

Soft Mafia Bucky by @angrythingstarlight

Chubby Baker Bucky by @angrythingstarlight

The Two of Us by @bucky-bucket-barnes

The Five Times Bucky Saved You... by @buckysknifecollection

Tiktok Trend by @tuiccim

Snow by @delaber

Personal Pillow by @buckyalpine

Untouched by @buckyalpine

Wait, What? by @buckyalpine

Untouched by @buckyalpine

Project V by @babyboibucky

"You ask your best friend Bucky a favor of a lifetime." Pairing College!Bucky Barnes x Reader"

What's Left Behind by @ussgallifrey

"The world turned upside down the minute you let your guard down and, despite it all, you just had to keep going because… what else could you do at a time like this?"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader

The Kids Aren't Alright by @ussgallifrey

"Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy but, between the three of you, there’s enough lyrics to write an anthem. You’re doomed from the start"

Pairing: Steve x named!Female Reader x Bucky

Updated 4/11/2023

180 notes · View notes

sjsmith56 · 1 month ago

Text

The Whole Damn Thing

Summary: Set in December 1944. Bucky makes a pass at a new nurse but is firmly rejected. When he learns why he attempts to be a friend instead.

Length: 6.1 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, not described, Steve Rogers, Howling Commandos, minor OFCs.

Warnings: WW2 Bucky (the flirting guy), grief, losing loved ones, pressures of the job, no smut.

Author notes: This story bridges both Christmas and New Year’s Eve in 1944, but the final part is set post FATWS. It didn’t start out to be so sad but it’s unavoidable knowing what happens to Bucky. ATS stands for Auxiliary Territorial Service, the women’s branch of the British Army. The majority of the women were assigned to work at bases as clerks, cooks, etc. The feast they were given for Christmas breakfast and dinner likely wouldn’t have happened considering rationing but this is fiction.

December 1944

It had been one of the more gruelling missions for the Howling Commandos. Although they succeeded in destroying their target it came at a cost. Even Cap bore injuries from the beating they took against one of the elite HYDRA divisions. On the flight home to their base in England, the others tended to the cuts and wounds inflicted on them. All were ordered to check in with the medical unit for further treatment.

“Even you, Buck,” said Cap, knowing his friend would try to talk his way out of it. “I expect to see you there.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” protested Bucky. “After a couple of days rest, I’ll be right as rain.”

His protests fell on deaf ears and once they disembarked from their air transport and transferred to the truck, Cap ordered the driver to take them directly to the base medical unit, while he checked in with Colonel Phillips and set up their debriefing. He made it clear that if any of them stepped foot out of the infirmary before he got there, they would be restricted to base instead of being given liberty. Grumbling loudly, the men obeyed the order and waited stoically to be seen by a doctor then tended by a nurse. Bucky hung back at the end of the lineup, hoping to slip out after Steve arrived but had no such luck and had to face the doctor, who determined Bucky needed to have several grazes from bullets seen to. As he sat there with his upper body uncovered a new nurse arrived with a cart of supplies to treat him. He eyed her, appreciating what he was seeing.

“You’re new,” he said, as she prepared everything to treat his wounds. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Yes, Sergeant. I am new here.” She focused on the two graze injuries, one on his shoulder and the other on his side. “Arrived three days ago. Looks like you dodged a couple of bullets.”

“Tried to,” he shrugged, then smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Lieutenant Lovegood,” she replied briskly.

His grin was almost wider than his face. “You’re serious?” She gave him a deadpan expression. “Do you?”

She stood tall, her hands on her hips and fixed a steely gaze on him. “I beg your pardon?” He stopped grinning, trying to be serious but not quite succeeding. “I’m an officer, Sergeant, and you’re an NCO. I expect a certain level of respect from you.”

Steve appeared, having heard the exchange from the next cubicle, frowning at Bucky. “Is everything alright here, Lieutenant?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Captain.” She looked back at Bucky. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant?”

He licked his lips and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for my poorly chosen words. I didn’t mean any disrespect to you.”

She nodded and continued to treat him, bandaging him up while Steve watched. When she was done, she advised him to keep the wounds clean and return in three days for them to be assessed, then took the cart away. Bucky put his undershirt and over-shirt on, then picked up his jacket, ignoring Steve’s glare. Once they were out of the infirmary the young captain turned to him.

“What the hell, Bucky? I know you’ve dated almost every nurse there, but did you have to ask her that?”

“Oh, come on, Steve,” protested the sergeant. “It was a perfectly valid question for a looker with the last name of Lovegood.”

“Which she’s probably heard from every guy she’s ever come across. Do you ever think of being something other than the guy who’s gone through the entire population of single women on the base?”

He put his hand up when Bucky started answering the question, not wanting to hear it. Heading to their quarters, the two men washed up, changing into fatigues, then headed to the mess tent. It being only a week until Christmas the menu had been enlarged to include some traditional seasonal foods of both England and the United States, and the team took advantage to try them out. While they ate at the same table Bucky noticed several nurses arriving for a break, including Lt. Lovegood.

She seemed pleasant enough as she listened to the other nurses talk, occasionally adding in her opinion if she was asked but she appeared content to observe more than actively participate. As Bucky watched her the other men in the Commandos noticed his behaviour and gave each other winks over Sergeant Barnes next target. The consensus was that Bucky would have a date with her by the weekend. As the nurses’ break ended Bucky beckoned to one of them, who excused herself from the others.

“Hey Sarge,” she drawled in her Georgia accent. “Who do you want to know about?”

“Stella, my southern belle, why do you always assume I want to know about another nurse? I thought you were my number one girl.”

“That was before our last date and before I met Lt. Delisle,” she answered, “and was proposed to. You’re fun Bucky, but you’re not exactly made out for a long relationship.”

He placed his hand over his heart, looking wounded. “I’m hurt, darlin’, truly hurt.” She grinned at the others, knowing she was right. “But since you’re asking, what’s the story on the new lieutenant?”

“Millie?” He nodded. “I don’t think you have much of a chance with her Bucky. She’s pretty serious. Good nurse and she gets along with everyone, but she’s been asked out several times since she got here and turned down every one of them. She’s already volunteered for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s Day night duty. Said she’s not interested in any of the celebrations.” The attractive blonde shrugged. “If she wants to work those days I don’t mind. It means I get two days leave with John.”

Called by one of the nurses to return to the unit she waved at them and headed out into the wintry night to walk the short distance back to her duties. Bucky sat back, thinking over what she said about the new nurse. At least he had her first name, Millie. He did like a challenge.

After the debriefing the following morning, Bucky returned to the infirmary, saying he needed some aspirin for a headache. He didn’t see Lt. Lovegood and asked about her.

“She’s in London,” said the senior nurse on duty. “She’ll be back tomorrow.”

No other explanation was given and all of his inquiries to the other nurses didn’t provide any answers. Every time he showed up over the next few days in the hopes of speaking with her, she was busy with another soldier. He had to admit that her lack of availability began to make him believe he was never going to get a chance to convince Lt. Lovegood to go out with him.

It was late Christmas Eve when he tried again. Leaving a Christmas party at the local pub, he showed up at the medical unit, knowing that she was on duty. As he waited in the foyer he peeked into the ward where there were several soldiers too injured to be released back to their units. He saw Lt. Lovegood sitting beside the bed of a young airman who had received extensive burns from a fire on the bomber he was in. With his arms heavily bandaged she was writing a letter for him. Quietly opening the door Bucky waited just inside, hoping to catch her attention. Instead, he found himself listening to something that was meant to be private.

“How do I tell her that my arms and hands are badly burnt?” asked the airman. “She won’t want me when she sees my arms.”

“Exactly like that,” replied Lovegood, gently. “The truth can be painful to hear but it’s always best. If your fiancée truly loves you the scarring won’t matter, not when she has the rest of you back in one piece.”

He shook his head. “We were homecoming king and queen in our senior year of high school. Everyone said we looked so good together, like movie stars.”

“So, you spent your time together staring at yourselves in a mirror. Is that how your relationship went?”

“No,” he smiled shyly. “In fact, one of the best memories I have is when we got caught in a rainstorm and soaked through. Her hair was all flat and we both looked like drowned rats, but we just laughed at how both of us forgot to bring an umbrella that day.”

“So, you have seen each other when you weren’t at your best and you still love each other.” She smiled at him. “Sounds like she’s the one, Private.” She looked at her watch then back at the door, noticing Bucky there. “I have to see to another soldier. Why don’t you think on what you want to say, and I’ll come back to write for you. We’ll get that letter into the outgoing mail by morning.”

“Sorry,” said Bucky, as she approached. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I’ve been trying to see you alone for a couple of days.”

“It’s alright,” she answered, surprising him with her kind tone. “Follow me.”

She led him to a room, gesturing for him to sit on the treatment bed. Pulling up a chair, she sat and looked at him.

“Why are you so insistent on seeing me?” she asked. “I’m sure the other nurses have told you that I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone.”

“It seems lonely,” he replied. “We’re in the middle of a war, with soldiers dying or coming back with wounds that could change their lives drastically. I just thought we could go out for drinks, dance a little, make out a little and enjoy what time we have left with each other. Even if we don’t go past drinks, I just wanted a chance to get to know you.”

Her sad smile made him feel like he had just stepped over that line again. “What if I told you that I’ve already done that, twice. Not with you, obviously, but allowed myself to become involved with a soldier just like you.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no one like me.” His grin failed to bring out a similar response from her and Bucky’s face became serious. “What happened?”

“The first soldier I gave my heart to was killed in Sicily,” she said. “I was stationed in North Africa then. After he died, I was transferred to London. Met and fell in love with a bomber pilot. A month ago, he received a head injury on the flight back from Germany. He barely survived the surgery he needed to remove shrapnel from his brain. They transferred me here because I couldn’t do my job being near him. It was too painful. Being here gives me something to focus on.”

“You were in London recently,” said Bucky.

She nodded. “He didn’t regain consciousness before he died, but I already accepted that he was gone from me. I was there when he took his last breath. They offered to give me leave but where would I go? Home? I’m a nurse and I’m needed here. So, I do my job, eat, sleep, get up and do my job some more. It keeps me going.” She fixed her eyes on him. “That’s why I won’t go out with anyone, and I don’t want to get to know you personally. My heart isn’t in it and I’ve kind of accepted that maybe I’m not meant to fall in love. I’m not meant for the whole damn thing.” She stood up. “Now, if you would please allow me to do my job, I promised Private Wainwright that I would write a letter to his fiancée for him. I’d like to get it into the outgoing mail in the morning.”

Running his hand through his hair Bucky nodded and hopped off the bed. Allowing her to leave first, he watched as she returned to the bedside of the burnt airman. Smiling warmly at the young man, she picked up the writing paper and started to write as he dictated to her. As Bucky left the building, he looked up at the clear night sky, identifying several constellations that weren’t visible from Brooklyn. He pulled his pack of cigarettes out and lit one up, thinking of what Lt. Millie Lovegood had revealed to him.

He couldn’t fault her logic, and even though she said she accepted that the second man was already dead well before he took his last breath, he figured she was still hurting and grieving his death. So, maybe pursuing her for a date wasn’t in the cards but there was no reason they couldn’t be friends, was there? He took a long drag of his cigarette then moved his head back and let the smoke out forcefully. He could be her friend. It would be a good thing for him to be friends with her. He could do this.

Christmas morning breakfast was a special occasion as someone high up had arranged for fresh eggs and bacon to be procured and the cooks were making the eggs to order. There were also an assortment of pastries including cinnamon buns, danishes and muffins. Bucky, noticing the nurses hadn’t yet arrived took two large plates over to the pastry choices which were rapidly depleting, and loaded them up with an assortment of the tasty treats. When he brought them back to the table where the rest of the team were, several of the men reached out for them.

“Back off,” said Bucky, standing up with the plates in his hands so they were out of their reach. “These aren’t for your mugs. I’m saving them for the nurses. They’ll all be gone by the time they get here.”

“Still trying, hey Sarge?” asked Morita. “You think Lt. Lovegood is going to go out with you because you saved her a muffin?”

“Not trying to go out with her,” he answered. “She has her reasons to turn me down, and I respect them. Just being a friend to all of them. They work hard and I thought it would be nice to show them some appreciation.”

Several puzzled looks were exchanged, although Steve smiled warmly at his best friend, as Bucky had confided in him on his return to their barracks the night before. It was a nice thing to do for all of the nurses and he knew it would be appreciated by them. When the ladies did arrive, and their faces fell a little at the limited choice, Bucky got up with his two plates and set them down in front of the surprised nurses.

“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he smiled. “I had to fight them off to save some of the best for you.”

There was a chorus of “Thank you, Bucky” and “Thanks, Sarge” given, but Lt. Lovegood just presented him with a warm smile. He nodded and returned to his table, finishing off his coffee, before putting his coat on and heading out into the cold air. For the rest of the day, he relaxed, reading a book, then took in a Christmas movie in the mess hall as the sounds of the kitchen staff preparing the Christmas dinner occasionally drew his attention. With a full pack of cigarettes in hand, he stepped into the busy kitchen getting the attention of one of the ATS cooks, a lovely English woman named Marjorie who reminded him of a younger version of his mother. In the brisk atmosphere of the busy kitchen, he offered her the cigarettes for a favour, explaining how he wanted to make sure the nurses had a good selection of the food brought in for the Americans, when they came off duty. She negotiated for some of his chocolate rations as well, which he gladly gave up, knowing that Marjorie would come through for him. Then he asked for an extra slice of pumpkin pie be saved for him, to be picked up that evening.

“That’s a tall order, Sergeant,” she teased. “You must want it for someone special.”

“Yeah, a friend,” he smiled. “She’s missing her fella. He didn’t make it, so I’m just trying to be kind to her.”

“Alright, then. I’ll make sure it’s ready for you. You’re a good egg, Sergeant.”

“I try.”

With a small smile at her, he left her with the cigarettes, promising to come back with the chocolate right away. After making good on that, he joined the lineup that was already forming outside for Christmas dinner. The smells wafting out of the hall every time the door opened were mouth watering and the sense of anticipation was building in everyone. When the nurses arrived, they took up their positions at the end of the line, commiserating with each other that the food selection wouldn’t be that great by the time they got up to where it would be distributed. Then Marjorie’s supervisor, a matronly Sergeant Major, appeared at the door to the mess hall. She nodded at Bucky then strode down the line to where the nurses were waiting.

“Ladies, I have permission to allow you to enter first,” she smiled. “Colonel Phillips himself said that your efforts to provide care to our soldiers often go overlooked. Not today. Please, follow me in, before we allow the men inside.”

Bucky, still waiting in line, frowned when he heard the murmurs of how the old man had authorized the nurses getting served first, wondering if Marjorie had told a tall tale to her supervisor to get it happening. Regardless, the looks on their faces as they walked past the long line of men was worth it and he felt good about at least thinking of it. It didn’t matter if the Colonel upstaged him because they did deserve it. All the women here deserved to be appreciated.

By the time he got his food the place was full, there was Christmas music playing, and the laughter of good cheer brought a smile to everyone. As quickly as a table was vacated, an ATS kitchen helper was at the table, wiping it down and making sure the salt and pepper shakers were full for the next batch of soldiers. As the table next to his was being cleaned by Marjorie, she leaned over to him.

“Someone told the Colonel how you made sure the nurses had pastries available to them this morning. After you left Sergeant Major Worthington announced that the nurses would get first choice for the Christmas dinner, by the Colonel’s orders. You can have your cigarettes and chocolate back.”

“Keep them,” he smiled. “A Christmas present for another lady who should be appreciated. I’m sure you’ll make good use of them.”

Her face beamed, then she leaned close to him again. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll bring your extra slice of pie out for you right away.”

Once he received it, he left, returning to his bunk and placing it on his footlocker, while he laid on top of his bed. As the other soldiers on the Commandos entered the barracks, they glanced at the tin foil covered plate, but no one took it, nor did they say anything. It was as if they already knew it was meant for someone else. Later, after most of the others were asleep, Bucky quietly put his coat on, took the plate, and slipped outside, walking in the dark towards the medical wards where Lt. Lovegood was one of two nurses on duty. Peeking in the window into the ward, he saw her at her desk, the only light in the room coming from the one on the desktop, filling in notes, and occasionally glancing up at a soldier if one made a sound of distress. Quietly pushing the door open, he coughed lightly and smiled as she looked at him from her desk. The desk lamp made a halo of light appear around her head, touching something deep inside Bucky.

“I didn’t know if you had time to have some pie before you went on duty, so I brought you a piece,” he whispered, putting the plate on the desk.

“You must have bribed the kitchen staff to save it,” she joked. “The others said the pie was gone before the turkey.”

He shrugged. “I may have called in a favour.” He lifted a chair up from the next desk and placed it near hers. “I forgot the fork.”

“I can manage,” she smiled, unwrapping the tin foil. She picked the piece up in her hand and bit the end off. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He looked around at the half-filled ward. “Quiet night.”

She nodded. “They sent some of them to London for specialized treatment. Private Worthington is still here. He got his orders to return home in a few days. Might get there before his letter does.” She took another bite of the pie and offered it to Bucky. Carefully, he bit into it as she held it to his lips. “I know by your accent that you’re from New York. What else can you tell me about yourself?”

“Brooklyn, actually,” he grinned. “I thought you didn’t want to get personal.”

“Just being friendly.”

He breathed out. “I’m 27, was a dock worker, then was in art school for technical drawing. Always wanted to be an engineer but the Depression made it hard to afford college and the money I did make went to surviving. Captain Rogers and I have known each other since we were kids. He’s the brother my parents never had, although I have a sister. I read, like to listen to music and dance. That’s me, in a nutshell.”

“You’re also a lot of fun, by what the other nurses told me,” she added. “They all think you have fine qualities but you’re not ready to settle down. Sometimes, I’ve seen you look sad, like you wish you were somewhere else.”

He scoffed lightly but didn’t contradict her, wondering if his own worries about what he was hiding from everyone were visible to someone perceptive. She didn’t ask for more, so he didn’t offer any more details.

“How long have you been a nurse?” he asked.

“Two and a half years. I was in my final year of nursing school when Pearl Harbor happened, and I signed up for the service before I graduated. Didn’t get to North Africa until the Allies had control of parts of it in late 1942. Deployed to London in July 1943 and was there until this month.” She looked over at the men who were still sleeping. “I like my job but there are days I hate it, especially when a patient is broken and I’m not talking about his body. There’s so much hurt in them, and they’ll never be the same again.”

She sighed, then lifted the pie up and took another bite, before putting it back on the plate and pushing it towards him. The sound of a patient choking drew her immediately to his bed and she looked at Bucky.

“Would you go across the hall and summon Captain Harris? This man needs help.”

He went across and opened the door to another ward, where another nurse was checking a patient while the doctor was writing in a binder.

“Lt. Lovegood needs help with a patient,” said Bucky, stepping back as the doctor strode quickly past him.

He watched from the window as she and the doctor worked on clearing the obstruction from the patient’s airway. Knowing he could do nothing, Bucky left, stepping out into the clear winter’s night. The nurses here might not be facing guns, but they faced death every day. He wasn’t sure he could do what they did. On the walk back to his barracks he thought of how much they gave of themselves to the men in their care every day, always calmly and professionally. No wonder Lt. Lovegood had been offended when he made fun of her name, making a joke about the double entendre meaning of it. That she was still pleasant to him was proof she was a better person than he was.

Over the next week, he saw the nurse in passing, occasionally saying hi. They sometimes had coffee together, with others, not saying much but being pleasant to each other. He was surprised when the night before New Year’s Eve, she made an appearance with Stella at a pub in the local town, and he stood up, gesturing to them to sit with him and several other of the Howling Commandos. It was an even bigger surprise when they accepted and a scramble to find two other chairs saw all of them putting their best behaviour on.

“What can we get you ladies to drink?” asked Major Falsworth, ever the gentleman.

“Gin and tonic for me,” said Stella.

“Rum and Coke, please,” answered Lovegood, finding herself next to Bucky. She looked around. “This is quaint.”

“It’s friendly enough,” he replied. “They’re used to us and know that we keep the riff raff out.”

“That’s because we’re the riff raff,” joked Dum Dum, who extended his hand and introduced himself. “Haven’t seen you here before Lt. Lovegood.”

“No, I haven’t gone to any of the local pubs but I’m on night duty the next two nights and Stella, Lt. Meriweather, suggested I indulge for at least one night. Do you gentlemen come here often?”

“All the time,” replied Morita. “Sarge makes the rounds of most of the pubs when he’s on the prowl although lately he’s been limited to here or the base.” He jumped in surprise then reached under the table to rub his shin. “Ow, Sarge. What did you do that for?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Private. I just moved my feet. Thought I hit the table leg.”

Both women grinned, then thanked Falsworth as he returned with their drinks. As the evening went on, and the stories became wilder and funnier, Bucky found himself more aware of Millie, which she insisted on him calling her when they were off base. She laughed at many of the stories shared by the other men, often looking at him with a big smile on her face when they brought up some of his feats that weren’t classified. It was still early when Stella returned to base, as she was on duty at 6 am. Falsworth escorted her back, claiming he wished to write a letter to his family before lights out. The other four, Dum Dum, Morita, Jones and Dernier, left together, leaving Bucky and Millie on their own. For a busy and somewhat loud pub, it was quiet at their table, as they rarely talked, then Bucky finished his beer.

“I’m ready to go back,” he said. “Are you?”

She nodded and they stepped out into the dark night, a heavy cloud cover blocking the light of a slightly waning moon. Pulling a shielded torch from her purse she shone it on the sidewalk ahead of them as they headed towards the bus stop. A boisterous group of British soldiers barrelled into them and Bucky automatically put his arm around her to shield her from their intrusion. At that moment they both saw the bus pulling away from the stop some distance away.

“Well, I guess we walk,” she said, sounding slightly resigned to the prospect. “At least it’s not too cold.”

Keeping her hand in the crook of Bucky’s arm they walked side by side, keeping their thoughts to themselves. He noticed that she was shivering and pulled his overcoat off, draping it over her shoulders, despite her objections. With a considerable distance still to go, a lorry making a delivery to the base stopped and the driver offered them both a ride. They squeezed into the front seat with him and his assistant. It wasn’t much warmer in the unheated cab, but it got them to the base faster. He let them off as he offered the guard at the gate his papers. Bucky and Millie thanked him, then checked in with the other guard, signing their names on the list to show they were back.

“Your men seem very fond of you,” she remarked as they walked the final distance to the barracks, the nurses one first, since it was attached to the infirmary and medical wards. “I haven’t laughed like that for some time. You’re very informal with the ranks in your unit, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, it seems that way,” he agreed. “Major Falsworth could have his own unit in the British Army, but he prefers to be with us, and he doesn’t put himself above anyone else, even though we’re NCO’s and enlisted. Cap is usually with us but he’s in London with the Colonel. He makes the final decision, but we arrive at it together and if something goes wrong, he takes the blame. So far, we’ve been lucky.”

They stopped at the door to the nurse’s quarters, and she took his overcoat off, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re a gentleman, Bucky. It’s one of your finest qualities.”

He smiled self-consciously, then offered her his hand. When she took it and leaned forward to kiss him where his cheek met his lips it made him speechless. Without saying anything more, she turned and went inside, leaving him touching the skin where her lips had been. It took him some time to fall asleep as he thought about possibilities in ways he never had before.

There was an air of excitement on the base the following day, as a surprise dance had been approved for the mess hall on December 31, 1944. After breakfast, the mess hall was closed to allow for the group organizing the dance the opportunity to decorate it for the occasion, with streamers and bunting everywhere. Sandwiches were on the menu for lunch and dinner, distributed to the different barracks by runners sent to the kitchen. Everyone else spent the day preparing for the evening, as lineups at the showers and lavatory sinks showed most of the soldiers were inclined to actually be clean shaven for the event. Everyone at the base, male and female were invited, and there were rumours that a real band had been formed from the ranks to entertain everyone.

It was everything that everyone expected and for those who stayed on base there was a lot of fun, even though it was officially a dry event. Several privately owned flasks were still distributed throughout the hall, topping up the coffees and soft drinks made available to the rank and file. The officers on duty turned a blind eye to it, as long as the overall behaviour remained within the bounds of propriety. Bucky made himself available for duty, keeping an eye on the goings on, although he did take a turn on the dance floor with Marjorie, showing off their Lindy to the applause of everyone who were impressed with the ease the young sergeant moved in concert with the older ATS kitchen cook who could still dance up a storm.

Afterwards, noting the time, Bucky begged off for a quick break, hurrying over to the infirmary, with a piece of cake that was baked to celebrate the coming new year. With a big smile on his face, he stepped into Millie’s ward and lost the smile when he saw her at the bedside of a new patient, a soldier who had been hit by a lorry early that morning, as he was too drunk to get out of the way and in the clouded out blackout conditions wasn’t visible to the driver until it was too late. It was in the morning report and was the reason behind the on base dance, to keep the soldiers off the streets on this night of all nights. His body, encased in several casts covering his legs and arms, was immobilized but his eyes were staring up into the ceiling. The doctor, who had been listening to the man’s chest, shook his head and stood up, then looked at the time before marking something on the man’s chart. With a clarity that sliced into him, Bucky realized the man had just died. Slowly, sadly, Millie placed the man’s hands on his chest, then drew the sheet over his head and wearily stood up. Noticing Bucky, she shook her head, not wanting to talk to him at the moment. He withdrew to the foyer between the two wards, the piece of cake still in his hand, and sat on the bench along the way, waiting for her.

After an hour or so, well after midnight, two orderlies came out of a third door with a gurney and entered Millie’s ward. Leaving the cake on the bench, Bucky watched through the window as they carefully lifted the man from the bed and onto the gurney, then covered him with another sheet and brought him out the door where he was standing, disappearing through the third door. Looking through the window, Bucky saw Millie stripping the bed of its sheets, dropping them into a hamper, then she remade the bed. Her corners were precise and perfect. The doctor said something to her, and she nodded, putting her coat on and came out the door where he was.

“Not here,” she said tersely.

He followed her outside into the crisp winter air, leaving the cake behind. She walked to where there was an open space that showed all of the night sky, thousands of stars visible to them even with the almost full moon visible and lighting up the snowy landscape. A sob escaped from her huddled body and Bucky touched her shoulder. Whirling around she buried her face in his shoulder, weeping. Enclosing her in his arms, he murmured softly to her, telling her it was okay to cry. After some time releasing her grief, she pulled herself away from him, and looked beseechingly at his face. The moon lit her hair up, catching the loose strands in its silvery light, making her look otherworldly.

“Promise me,” she cried. “Promise you’ll come back to me. Promise.”

“I’ll come back to you,” he replied. “I’ll come back, and we’ll get married and have kids and a house and a yard. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy because I love you and you deserve to be loved fully and completely.”

“You better come back to me, Bucky,” she said, just before she kissed him passionately. “Don’t break your promise.”

“Never,” he smiled, cupping her tear-stained face in his hands. “I’ll always come back to you, Millie. Always.”

Present Day

Bucky stood up from the gravestone at Arlington National Cemetery, and brushed the leaves off his knees, then wiped the remaining tears from his face. It had taken some doing to track down what happened to Mildred Lovegood, who retired from the United States Army as a full colonel during the Vietnam War. She never married, always saying she was married to the job. She died in 1985, of cancer.

“She was the one,” he said to Sam, who had helped Bucky track down the career army nurse’s gravesite. “After I died, she didn’t look for love at all. Her World War II diary in the military museum said she believed she was cursed and that any man who loved her wouldn’t come back. She was wrong; it was wartime and just the way it was for some people. I would have spent a lifetime with her; with a home, family, pets … the whole damn thing.”

He ran his hand through his hair, then took the bouquet of red roses from Sam, placing them at the base of her headstone. His friend placed a warm hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing it. Some love stories were never meant to have a happy ending. At least for this one, he would have closure and for someone who spent so long lost to time, that was a victory all in itself. With a shaky breath, Bucky nodded, and the two men turned away from the grave. At the car, Bucky looked around at her final resting place, happy that Millie had been buried there. She deserved it, being the best damn nurse he ever knew. He would make the journey there many times, making good on his promise to always come back to her. It was the least he could do.

One Shots Masterlist

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